Socratesκαὶ μήν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, πολλὰ μὲν καὶ ἄλλα περὶ αὐτῆς ἐννοῶ, ὡς παντὸς ἄρα μᾶλλον ὀρθῶς ᾠκίζομεν τὴν πόλιν, οὐχ ἥκιστα δὲ ἐνθυμηθεὶς περὶ ποιήσεως λέγω.
τὸ ποῖον; ἔφη.
τὸ μηδαμῇ παραδέχεσθαι αὐτῆς ὅση μιμητική· παντὸς γὰρ μᾶλλον οὐ παραδεκτέα νῦν καὶ ἐναργέστερον, ὡς ἐμοὶ δοκεῖ, φαίνεται, ἐπειδὴ χωρὶς ἕκαστα διῄρηται τὰ τῆς ψυχῆς 595b εἴδη.
πῶς λέγεις;
Socrates“And in fact,” I said, “there are many other things about our city that make me think we were founding it in exactly the right way, but I say so not least when I think about poetry.”
“What about it?” he said.
“That we refused to admit any of it that is imitative. That it must not be admitted at all is even clearer now, it seems to me, since we’ve distinguished the parts of the soul from one 595b another.”
“What do you mean?”
ὡς μὲν πρὸς ὑμᾶς εἰρῆσθαι—οὐ γάρ μου κατερεῖτε πρὸς τοὺς τῆς τραγῳδίας ποιητὰς καὶ τοὺς ἄλλους ἅπαντας τοὺς μιμητικούς—λώβη ἔοικεν εἶναι πάντα τὰ τοιαῦτα τῆς τῶν ἀκουόντων διανοίας, ὅσοι μὴ ἔχουσι φάρμακον τὸ εἰδέναι αὐτὰ οἷα τυγχάνει ὄντα.
πῇ δή, ἔφη, διανοούμενος λέγεις;
“Just between ourselves—you won’t denounce me to the tragic poets and all the other imitators—all such things seem to be a corruption of the minds of those who hear them, unless they have as an antidote the knowledge of what these things really are.”
“What exactly are you thinking of,” he said, “when you say that?”
ῥητέον, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ· καίτοι φιλία γέ τίς με καὶ αἰδὼς ἐκ παιδὸς ἔχουσα περὶ Ὁμήρου ἀποκωλύει λέγειν. ἔοικε μὲν 595c γὰρ τῶν καλῶν ἁπάντων τούτων τῶν τραγικῶν πρῶτος διδάσκαλός τε καὶ ἡγεμὼν γενέσθαι. ἀλλʼ οὐ γὰρ πρό γε τῆς ἀληθείας τιμητέος ἀνήρ, ἀλλʼ, ὃ λέγω, ῥητέον.
πάνυ μὲν οὖν, ἔφη.
ἄκουε δή, μᾶλλον δὲ ἀποκρίνου.
Ἐρώτα.
μίμησιν ὅλως ἔχοις ἄν μοι εἰπεῖν ὅτι ποτʼ ἐστίν; οὐδὲ γάρ τοι αὐτὸς πάνυ τι συννοῶ τί βούλεται εἶναι.
ἦ που ἄρʼ, ἔφη, ἐγὼ συννοήσω.
“I’ll have to say it,” I said, “even though a certain love and reverence for Homer that I’ve had since I was a child holds me back from speaking. For he seems 595c to have been the first teacher and leader of all these fine tragic poets. Still, no man should be honored above the truth, so, as I say, I must speak.”
“Certainly,” he said.
“Listen, then—or rather, answer.”
“Ask.”
“Could you tell me what imitation in general is? I don’t quite understand myself what it’s supposed to be.”
“So I suppose I’m going to understand it!” he said.
The three beds
Socrates uses a god's, a carpenter's and a painter's bed to show imitation is far from truth.
οὐδέν γε, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ἄτοπον, ἐπεὶ πολλά τοι ὀξύτερον 596a βλεπόντων ἀμβλύτερον ὁρῶντες πρότεροι εἶδον.
ἔστιν, ἔφη, οὕτως· ἀλλὰ σοῦ παρόντος οὐδʼ ἂν προθυμηθῆναι οἷός τε εἴην εἰπεῖν, εἴ τί μοι καταφαίνεται, ἀλλʼ αὐτὸς ὅρα.
βούλει οὖν ἐνθένδε ἀρξώμεθα ἐπισκοποῦντες, ἐκ τῆς εἰωθυίας μεθόδου; εἶδος γάρ πού τι ἓν ἕκαστον εἰώθαμεν τίθεσθαι περὶ ἕκαστα τὰ πολλά, οἷς ταὐτὸν ὄνομα ἐπιφέρομεν. ἢ οὐ μανθάνεις;
μανθάνω.
θῶμεν δὴ καὶ νῦν ὅτι βούλει τῶν πολλῶν. οἷον, εἰ 596b ʼθʼέλεις, πολλαί πού εἰσι κλῖναι καὶ τράπεζαι.
πῶς δʼ οὔ;
“That wouldn’t be strange at all,” I said, “since people with duller sight often see things before those with sharper 596a sight.”
“That’s so,” he said, “but with you here I wouldn’t even have the nerve to say anything that occurs to me. You look for yourself.”
“Then shall we begin our inquiry from here, following our usual method? We usually posit, I think, a single form for each set of many things to which we give the same name. Or don’t you follow?”
“I follow.”
“Then let’s take now whichever of the many you like. For example, if 596b you like, there are many beds and tables.”
“Of course.”
ἀλλὰ ἰδέαι γέ που περὶ ταῦτα τὰ σκεύη δύο, μία μὲν κλίνης, μία δὲ τραπέζης.
ναί.
οὐκοῦν καὶ εἰώθαμεν λέγειν ὅτι ὁ δημιουργὸς ἑκατέρου τοῦ σκεύους πρὸς τὴν ἰδέαν βλέπων οὕτω ποιεῖ ὁ μὲν τὰς κλίνας, ὁ δὲ τὰς τραπέζας, αἷς ἡμεῖς χρώμεθα, καὶ τἆλλα κατὰ ταὐτά; οὐ γάρ που τήν γε ἰδέαν αὐτὴν δημιουργεῖ οὐδεὶς τῶν δημιουργῶν· πῶς γάρ;
οὐδαμῶς.
ἀλλʼ ὅρα δὴ καὶ τόνδε τίνα καλεῖς τὸν δημιουργόν. 596c
τὸν ποῖον;
ὃς πάντα ποιεῖ, ὅσαπερ εἷς ἕκαστος τῶν χειροτεχνῶν.
“But there are only two forms for these pieces of furniture, one of bed and one of table.”
“Yes.”
“And aren’t we also accustomed to say that the craftsman of each of them looks toward the form when he makes the beds, or the tables, that we use, and likewise with everything else? For surely no craftsman makes the form itself. How could he?”
“He couldn’t.”
“Now see what you’d call this craftsman.” 596c
“Which one?”
“The one who makes everything that each of the individual craftsmen makes.”
δεινόν τινα λέγεις καὶ θαυμαστὸν ἄνδρα.
οὔπω γε, ἀλλὰ τάχα μᾶλλον φήσεις. ὁ αὐτὸς γὰρ οὗτος χειροτέχνης οὐ μόνον πάντα οἷός τε σκεύη ποιῆσαι, ἀλλὰ καὶ τὰ ἐκ τῆς γῆς φυόμενα ἅπαντα ποιεῖ καὶ ζῷα πάντα ἐργάζεται, τά τε ἄλλα καὶ ἑαυτόν, καὶ πρὸς τούτοις γῆν καὶ οὐρανὸν καὶ θεοὺς καὶ πάντα τὰ ἐν οὐρανῷ καὶ τὰ ἐν Ἅιδου ὑπὸ γῆς ἅπαντα ἐργάζεται. 596d
πάνυ θαυμαστόν, ἔφη, λέγεις σοφιστήν.
“That’s a clever and amazing man you’re talking about.”
“Not yet—soon you’ll say so even more. This same craftsman can make not only every piece of furniture; he also makes everything that grows from the earth, and produces all living things, himself included, and besides these he produces earth and heaven and gods and everything in heaven and everything in Hades beneath the earth.” 596d
“That’s a truly amazing sophist you’re describing,” he said.
ἀπιστεῖς; ἦν δʼ ἐγώ. καί μοι εἰπέ, τὸ παράπαν οὐκ ἄν σοι δοκεῖ εἶναι τοιοῦτος δημιουργός, ἢ τινὶ μὲν τρόπῳ γενέσθαι ἂν τούτων ἁπάντων ποιητής, τινὶ δὲ οὐκ ἄν; ἢ οὐκ αἰσθάνῃ ὅτι κἂν αὐτὸς οἷός τʼ εἴης πάντα ταῦτα ποιῆσαι τρόπῳ γέ τινι;
καὶ τίς, ἔφη, ὁ τρόπος οὗτος;
“Don’t you believe me?” I said. “Tell me, do you think there couldn’t be such a craftsman at all? Or that in one way someone could become the maker of all these things, but in another way couldn’t? Don’t you see that you yourself could make all these things, in a way?”
“And what way is that?” he said.
οὐ χαλεπός, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ἀλλὰ πολλαχῇ καὶ ταχὺ δημιουργούμενος, τάχιστα δέ που, εἰ ʼθέλεις λαβὼν κάτοπτρον 596e περιφέρειν πανταχῇ· ταχὺ μὲν ἥλιον ποιήσεις καὶ τὰ ἐν τῷ οὐρανῷ, ταχὺ δὲ γῆν, ταχὺ δὲ σαυτόν τε καὶ τἆλλα ζῷα καὶ σκεύη καὶ φυτὰ καὶ πάντα ὅσα νυνδὴ ἐλέγετο.
ναί, ἔφη, φαινόμενα, οὐ μέντοι ὄντα γέ που τῇ ἀληθείᾳ.
καλῶς, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, καὶ εἰς δέον ἔρχῃ τῷ λόγῳ. τῶν τοιούτων γὰρ οἶμαι δημιουργῶν καὶ ὁ ζωγράφος ἐστίν. ἦ γάρ;
πῶς γὰρ οὔ;
“It isn’t difficult,” I said. “It can be done in many ways and quickly—quickest of all, I suppose, if you’re willing to take a mirror and 596e carry it around everywhere. You’ll quickly make the sun and the things in the heavens, quickly the earth, quickly yourself and the other animals and furniture and plants and everything we were just talking about.”
“Yes,” he said, “things that appear, but not things that really are.”
“Good,” I said. “You’ve come to the argument just where you should. The painter too, I think, is one of these craftsmen, isn’t he?”
“Of course.”
ἀλλὰ φήσεις οὐκ ἀληθῆ οἶμαι αὐτὸν ποιεῖν ἃ ποιεῖ. καίτοι τρόπῳ γέ τινι καὶ ὁ ζωγράφος κλίνην ποιεῖ· ἢ οὔ;
ναί, ἔφη, φαινομένην γε καὶ οὗτος.
τί δὲ ὁ κλινοποιός; οὐκ ἄρτι μέντοι ἔλεγες ὅτι οὐ τὸ εἶδος ποιεῖ, ὃ δή φαμεν εἶναι ὃ ἔστι κλίνη, ἀλλὰ κλίνην τινά;
ἔλεγον γάρ.
“But you’ll say, I think, that what he makes isn’t true. And yet in a way the painter too makes a bed, doesn’t he?”
“Yes,” he said, “he too makes a bed that appears.”
“What about the bed-maker? Weren’t you just saying that he doesn’t make the form, which we say is what a bed is, but a particular bed?”
“I was.”
οὐκοῦν εἰ μὴ ὃ ἔστιν ποιεῖ, οὐκ ἂν τὸ ὂν ποιοῖ, ἀλλά τι τοιοῦτον οἷον τὸ ὄν, ὂν δὲ οὔ· τελέως δὲ εἶναι ὂν τὸ τοῦ κλινουργοῦ ἔργον ἢ ἄλλου τινὸς χειροτέχνου εἴ τις φαίη, κινδυνεύει οὐκ ἂν ἀληθῆ λέγειν;
οὔκουν, ἔφη, ὥς γʼ ἂν δόξειεν τοῖς περὶ τοὺς τοιούσδε λόγους διατρίβουσιν.
μηδὲν ἄρα θαυμάζωμεν εἰ καὶ τοῦτο ἀμυδρόν τι τυγχάνει ὂν πρὸς ἀλήθειαν. 597b
μὴ γάρ.
βούλει οὖν, ἔφην, ἐπʼ αὐτῶν τούτων ζητήσωμεν τὸν μιμητὴν τοῦτον, τίς ποτʼ ἐστίν;
εἰ βούλει, ἔφη.
“Then if he doesn’t make what a bed is, he wouldn’t be making what is, but something like what is, which is not what is. And if anyone said that the work of the bed-maker or any other craftsman completely is, he’d probably be saying something untrue?”
“He would,” he said, “at least in the view of those who spend their time on arguments like these.”
“Then let’s not be surprised if this too turns out to be something dim compared with the truth.” 597b
“No, let’s not.”
“Then do you want us,” I said, “to use these very examples to look for this imitator, and find out what he is?”
“If you like,” he said.
οὐκοῦν τριτταί τινες κλῖναι αὗται γίγνονται· μία μὲν ἡ ἐν τῇ φύσει οὖσα, ἣν φαῖμεν ἄν, ὡς ἐγᾦμαι, θεὸν ἐργάσασθαι. ἢ τίνʼ ἄλλον;
οὐδένα, οἶμαι.
μία δέ γε ἣν ὁ τέκτων.
ναί, ἔφη.
μία δὲ ἣν ὁ ζωγράφος. ἦ γάρ;
ἔστω.
ζωγράφος δή, κλινοποιός, θεός, τρεῖς οὗτοι ἐπιστάται τρισὶν εἴδεσι κλινῶν.
ναὶ τρεῖς. 597c
“Well, these beds turn out to be of three kinds. One is the one in nature, which I think we’d say a god made. Or who else?”
“No one else, I think.”
“And one the carpenter makes.”
“Yes,” he said.
“And one the painter makes, right?”
“Let’s say so.”
“So painter, bed-maker, god: these three are in charge of three kinds of bed.”
“Yes, three.” 597c
ὁ μὲν δὴ θεός, εἴτε οὐκ ἐβούλετο, εἴτε τις ἀνάγκη ἐπῆν μὴ πλέον ἢ μίαν ἐν τῇ φύσει ἀπεργάσασθαι αὐτὸν κλίνην, οὕτως ἐποίησεν μίαν μόνον αὐτὴν ἐκείνην ὃ ἔστιν κλίνη· δύο δὲ τοιαῦται ἢ πλείους οὔτε ἐφυτεύθησαν ὑπὸ τοῦ θεοῦ οὔτε μὴ φυῶσιν.
πῶς δή; ἔφη.
ὅτι, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, εἰ δύο μόνας ποιήσειεν, πάλιν ἂν μία ἀναφανείη ἧς ἐκεῖναι ἂν αὖ ἀμφότεραι τὸ εἶδος ἔχοιεν, καὶ εἴη ἂν ὃ ἔστιν κλίνη ἐκείνη ἀλλʼ οὐχ αἱ δύο.
ὀρθῶς, ἔφη. 597d
“Now the god, whether because he didn’t want to or because some necessity compelled him not to make more than one bed in nature, made only one, the very one that is what a bed is. Two or more such beds were never produced by the god, and never will be.”
“Why is that?” he said.
“Because,” I said, “if he made just two, one again would appear whose form they would both have, and that would be what a bed is, not the two.”
“Right,” he said. 597d
ταῦτα δὴ οἶμαι εἰδὼς ὁ θεός, βουλόμενος εἶναι ὄντως κλίνης ποιητὴς ὄντως οὔσης, ἀλλὰ μὴ κλίνης τινὸς μηδὲ κλινοποιός τις, μίαν φύσει αὐτὴν ἔφυσεν.
ἔοικεν.
βούλει οὖν τοῦτον μὲν φυτουργὸν τούτου προσαγορεύωμεν, ἤ τι τοιοῦτον;
δίκαιον γοῦν, ἔφη, ἐπειδήπερ φύσει γε καὶ τοῦτο καὶ τἆλλα πάντα πεποίηκεν.
τί δὲ τὸν τέκτονα; ἆρʼ οὐ δημιουργὸν κλίνης;
ναί.
ἦ καὶ τὸν ζωγράφον δημιουργὸν καὶ ποιητὴν τοῦ τοιούτου;
οὐδαμῶς.
ἀλλὰ τί αὐτὸν κλίνης φήσεις εἶναι; 597e
“The god knew this, I think, and wanted to be the real maker of a bed that really is, not the maker of some particular bed, nor some particular bed-maker. So he produced it by nature as one.”
“That seems likely.”
“Then shall we call him its nature-maker, or something like that?”
“That would be fair,” he said, “since he has made both this and everything else by nature.”
“And what about the carpenter? Isn’t he a craftsman of beds?”
“Yes.”
“And is the painter too a craftsman and maker of such a thing?”
“Not at all.”
“Then what will you say he is, with respect to a bed?” 597e
τοῦτο, ἦ δʼ ὅς, ἔμοιγε δοκεῖ μετριώτατʼ ἂν προσαγορεύεσθαι, μιμητὴς οὗ ἐκεῖνοι δημιουργοί.
εἶεν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ· τὸν τοῦ τρίτου ἄρα γεννήματος ἀπὸ τῆς φύσεως μιμητὴν καλεῖς;
πάνυ μὲν οὖν, ἔφη.
τοῦτʼ ἄρα ἔσται καὶ ὁ τραγῳδοποιός, εἴπερ μιμητής ἐστι, τρίτος τις ἀπὸ βασιλέως καὶ τῆς ἀληθείας πεφυκώς, καὶ πάντες οἱ ἄλλοι μιμηταί.
κινδυνεύει.
τὸν μὲν δὴ μιμητὴν ὡμολογήκαμεν. εἰπὲ δέ μοι περὶ 598a τοῦ ζωγράφου τόδε· πότερα ἐκεῖνο αὐτὸ τὸ ἐν τῇ φύσει ἕκαστον δοκεῖ σοι ἐπιχειρεῖν μιμεῖσθαι ἢ τὰ τῶν δημιουργῶν ἔργα;
“It seems to me,” he said, “that the most reasonable thing to call him is an imitator of what those others are craftsmen of.”
“Very well,” I said. “So you call the one whose product is at the third remove from nature an imitator?”
“Certainly,” he said.
“Then this will be true of the tragic poet too, if he’s an imitator: he is by nature third from the king and the truth, and so are all the other imitators.”
“Probably.”
“Well, we’ve agreed about the imitator. But tell me this about 598a the painter: does he seem to you to try to imitate each thing itself in nature, or the works of craftsmen?”
τὰ τῶν δημιουργῶν, ἔφη.
ἆρα οἷα ἔστιν ἢ οἷα φαίνεται; τοῦτο γὰρ ἔτι διόρισον.
πῶς λέγεις; ἔφη.
ὧδε· κλίνη, ἐάντε ἐκ πλαγίου αὐτὴν θεᾷ ἐάντε καταντικρὺ ἢ ὁπῃοῦν, μή τι διαφέρει αὐτὴ ἑαυτῆς, ἢ διαφέρει μὲν οὐδέν, φαίνεται δὲ ἀλλοία; καὶ τἆλλα ὡσαύτως;
οὕτως, ἔφη· φαίνεται, διαφέρει δʼ οὐδέν. 598b
τοῦτο δὴ αὐτὸ σκόπει· πρὸς πότερον ἡ γραφικὴ πεποίηται περὶ ἕκαστον; πότερα πρὸς τὸ ὄν, ὡς ἔχει, μιμήσασθαι, ἢ πρὸς τὸ φαινόμενον, ὡς φαίνεται, φαντάσματος ἢ ἀληθείας οὖσα μίμησις;
φαντάσματος, ἔφη.
“The works of craftsmen,” he said.
“As they are, or as they appear? You still have to settle that.”
“What do you mean?” he said.
“This: if you look at a bed from the side, or straight on, or from any angle, does it differ at all from itself? Or does it not differ at all, but only appear different? And the same with other things?”
“That’s it,” he said. “It appears different, but doesn’t differ at all.” 598b
“Then consider this very point. What is painting aimed at in each case? At imitating what is, as it is, or what appears, as it appears? Is it an imitation of appearance, or of truth?”
“Of appearance,” he said.
πόρρω ἄρα που τοῦ ἀληθοῦς ἡ μιμητική ἐστιν καί, ὡς ἔοικεν, διὰ τοῦτο πάντα ἀπεργάζεται, ὅτι σμικρόν τι ἑκάστου ἐφάπτεται, καὶ τοῦτο εἴδωλον. οἷον ὁ ζωγράφος, φαμέν, ζωγραφήσει ἡμῖν σκυτοτόμον, τέκτονα, τοὺς ἄλλους δημιουργούς, 598c περὶ οὐδενὸς τούτων ἐπαΐων τῶν τεχνῶν· ἀλλʼ ὅμως παῖδάς γε καὶ ἄφρονας ἀνθρώπους, εἰ ἀγαθὸς εἴη ζωγράφος, γράψας ἂν τέκτονα καὶ πόρρωθεν ἐπιδεικνὺς ἐξαπατῷ ἂν τῷ δοκεῖν ὡς ἀληθῶς τέκτονα εἶναι.
τί δʼ οὔ;
“Then imitation is surely far from the truth, and that, it seems, is why it can produce everything: because it grasps just a small part of each thing, and that part is an image. The painter, for example, we say, will paint us a shoemaker, a carpenter, and the other craftsmen, 598c without understanding anything about their crafts. And still, if he’s a good painter, he could paint a carpenter, show it from a distance, and deceive children and foolish people into thinking it really is a carpenter.”
“Of course.”
ἀλλὰ γὰρ οἶμαι ὦ φίλε, τόδε δεῖ περὶ πάντων τῶν τοιούτων διανοεῖσθαι· ἐπειδάν τις ἡμῖν ἀπαγγέλλῃ περί του, ὡς ἐνέτυχεν ἀνθρώπῳ πάσας ἐπισταμένῳ τὰς δημιουργίας καὶ τἆλλα πάντα ὅσα εἷς ἕκαστος οἶδεν, οὐδὲν ὅτι οὐχὶ 598d ἀκριβέστερον ὁτουοῦν ἐπισταμένῳ, ὑπολαμβάνειν δεῖ τῷ τοιούτῳ ὅτι εὐήθης τις ἄνθρωπος, καί, ὡς ἔοικεν, ἐντυχὼν γόητί τινι καὶ μιμητῇ ἐξηπατήθη, ὥστε ἔδοξεν αὐτῷ πάσσοφος εἶναι, διὰ τὸ αὐτὸς μὴ οἷός τʼ εἶναι ἐπιστήμην καὶ ἀνεπιστημοσύνην καὶ μίμησιν ἐξετάσαι.
ἀληθέστατα, ἔφη.
“But here, my friend, is what I think we should bear in mind about all such things. Whenever someone reports to us about a person, that he’s met someone who knows all the crafts and everything else that each individual knows, and there’s nothing he doesn’t know 598d more precisely than anyone, we should reply that he’s a simple-minded fellow who, it seems, has met some charlatan and imitator and been fooled into thinking him all-wise, because he himself can’t tell knowledge from ignorance and imitation.”
“Very true,” he said.
Homer and the poets on trial
Socrates argues that Homer and the tragic poets lack knowledge and feed the soul's worse part.
οὐκοῦν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, μετὰ τοῦτο ἐπισκεπτέον τήν τε τραγῳδίαν καὶ τὸν ἡγεμόνα αὐτῆς Ὅμηρον, ἐπειδή τινων 598e ἀκούομεν ὅτι οὗτοι πάσας μὲν τέχνας ἐπίστανται, πάντα δὲ τὰ ἀνθρώπεια τὰ πρὸς ἀρετὴν καὶ κακίαν, καὶ τά γε θεῖα· ἀνάγκη γὰρ τὸν ἀγαθὸν ποιητήν, εἰ μέλλει περὶ ὧν ἂν ποιῇ καλῶς ποιήσειν, εἰδότα ἄρα ποιεῖν, ἢ μὴ οἷόν τε εἶναι ποιεῖν.
“Then after this,” I said, “we must examine tragedy and its leader, Homer, since we hear some 598e people say that these poets know all the crafts, and all human affairs that bear on excellence and badness, and divine affairs too. For a good poet, they say, if he’s going to write well about whatever he writes about, must know it when he writes, or else he won’t be able to write.
δεῖ δὴ ἐπισκέψασθαι πότερον μιμηταῖς τούτοις οὗτοι ἐντυχόντες ἐξηπάτηνται καὶ τὰ ἔργα αὐτῶν ὁρῶντες 599a οὐκ αἰσθάνονται τριττὰ ἀπέχοντα τοῦ ὄντος καὶ ῥᾴδια ποιεῖν μὴ εἰδότι τὴν ἀλήθειαν—φαντάσματα γὰρ ἀλλʼ οὐκ ὄντα ποιοῦσιν—ἤ τι καὶ λέγουσιν καὶ τῷ ὄντι οἱ ἀγαθοὶ ποιηταὶ ἴσασιν περὶ ὧν δοκοῦσιν τοῖς πολλοῖς εὖ λέγειν.
πάνυ μὲν οὖν, ἔφη, ἐξεταστέον.
οἴει οὖν, εἴ τις ἀμφότερα δύναιτο ποιεῖν, τό τε μιμηθησόμενον καὶ τὸ εἴδωλον, ἐπὶ τῇ τῶν εἰδώλων δημιουργίᾳ ἑαυτὸν ἀφεῖναι ἂν σπουδάζειν καὶ τοῦτο προστήσασθαι τοῦ 599b ἑαυτοῦ βίου ὡς βέλτιστον ἔχοντα;
“So we must examine whether these people have met imitators like these and been deceived, and when they see their works 599a fail to notice that they are at the third remove from what is, and easy to produce without knowing the truth—since what they produce are appearances, not things that are—or whether there’s something in what they say, and good poets really do know about the things the many think they speak well about.”
“We certainly must examine it,” he said.
“Then do you think that if someone could make both—the thing to be imitated and the image—he would let himself take image-making seriously, and put it at the forefront of 599b his life as the best thing he had?”
οὐκ ἔγωγε.
ἀλλʼ εἴπερ γε οἶμαι ἐπιστήμων εἴη τῇ ἀληθείᾳ τούτων πέρι ἅπερ καὶ μιμεῖται, πολὺ πρότερον ἐν τοῖς ἔργοις ἂν σπουδάσειεν ἢ ἐπὶ τοῖς μιμήμασι, καὶ πειρῷτο ἂν πολλὰ καὶ καλὰ ἔργα ἑαυτοῦ καταλιπεῖν μνημεῖα, καὶ εἶναι προθυμοῖτʼ ἂν μᾶλλον ὁ ἐγκωμιαζόμενος ἢ ὁ ἐγκωμιάζων.
οἶμαι, ἔφη· οὐ γὰρ ἐξ ἴσου ἥ τε τιμὴ καὶ ἡ ὠφελία.
“I don’t.”
“Rather, if he truly had knowledge, I think, of the things he imitates, he’d be far more serious about real deeds than about imitations of them, and would try to leave behind many fine deeds as memorials of himself, and would be more eager to be the one praised than the one praising.”
“I think so,” he said. “The honor and the benefit aren’t equal.”
τῶν μὲν τοίνυν ἄλλων πέρι μὴ ἀπαιτῶμεν λόγον Ὅμηρον 599c ἢ ἄλλον ὁντινοῦν τῶν ποιητῶν, ἐρωτῶντες εἰ ἰατρικὸς ἦν τις αὐτῶν ἀλλὰ μὴ μιμητὴς μόνον ἰατρικῶν λόγων, τίνας ὑγιεῖς ποιητής τις τῶν παλαιῶν ἢ τῶν νέων λέγεται πεποιηκέναι, ὥσπερ Ἀσκληπιός, ἢ τίνας μαθητὰς ἰατρικῆς κατελίπετο, ὥσπερ ἐκεῖνος τοὺς ἐκγόνους, μηδʼ αὖ περὶ τὰς ἄλλας τέχνας αὐτοὺς ἐρωτῶμεν, ἀλλʼ ἐῶμεν· περὶ δὲ ὧν μεγίστων τε καὶ καλλίστων ἐπιχειρεῖ λέγειν Ὅμηρος, πολέμων τε πέρι καὶ στρατηγιῶν καὶ διοικήσεων πόλεων, καὶ 599d παιδείας πέρι ἀνθρώπου, δίκαιόν που ἐρωτᾶν αὐτὸν πυνθανομένους· ὦ φίλε Ὅμηρε, εἴπερ μὴ τρίτος ἀπὸ τῆς ἀληθείας εἶ ἀρετῆς πέρι, εἰδώλου δημιουργός, ὃν δὴ μιμητὴν ὡρισάμεθα, ἀλλὰ καὶ δεύτερος, καὶ οἷός τε ἦσθα γιγνώσκειν ποῖα ἐπιτηδεύματα βελτίους ἢ χείρους ἀνθρώπους ποιεῖ ἰδίᾳ καὶ δημοσίᾳ, λέγε ἡμῖν τίς τῶν πόλεων διὰ σὲ βέλτιον ᾤκησεν, ὥσπερ διὰ Λυκοῦργον Λακεδαίμων καὶ διʼ ἄλλους πολλοὺς 599e πολλαὶ μεγάλαι τε καὶ σμικραί;
“About other things, then, let’s not demand an account from Homer 599c or any other poet by asking whether any of them was a doctor and not just an imitator of doctors’ talk—which poet, old or new, is said to have made anyone healthy, as Asclepius did, or what students of medicine he left behind, as Asclepius left his descendants. And let’s not ask them about the other crafts either, but let that go. But about the greatest and finest things Homer undertakes to speak of—wars and generalship and the government of cities, and 599d the education of human beings—it’s surely fair to question him and ask: ‘Dear Homer, if you are not third from the truth where excellence is concerned, a craftsman of images, which is how we defined an imitator, but second, and could recognize what practices make people better or worse in private and in public, tell us which city was better governed because of you, as Sparta was because of Lycurgus, and many 599e cities, great and small, because of many others?
σὲ δὲ τίς αἰτιᾶται πόλις νομοθέτην ἀγαθὸν γεγονέναι καὶ σφᾶς ὠφεληκέναι; Χαρώνδαν μὲν γὰρ Ἰταλία καὶ Σικελία, καὶ ἡμεῖς Σόλωνα· σὲ δὲ τίς; ἕξει τινὰ εἰπεῖν;
“‘What city credits you with having been a good lawgiver and having benefited them? Italy and Sicily credit Charondas, and we credit Solon. But who credits you?’ Will he be able to name one?”
οὐκ οἶμαι, ἔφη ὁ Γλαύκων· οὔκουν λέγεταί γε οὐδʼ ὑπʼ αὐτῶν Ὁμηριδῶν.
ἀλλὰ δή τις πόλεμος ἐπὶ Ὁμήρου ὑπʼ ἐκείνου ἄρχοντος ἢ συμβουλεύοντος εὖ πολεμηθεὶς μνημονεύεται;
οὐδείς.
ἀλλʼ οἷα δὴ εἰς τὰ ἔργα σοφοῦ ἀνδρὸς πολλαὶ ἐπίνοιαι καὶ εὐμήχανοι εἰς τέχνας ἤ τινας ἄλλας πράξεις λέγονται, ὥσπερ αὖ Θάλεώ τε πέρι τοῦ Μιλησίου καὶ Ἀναχάρσιος τοῦ Σκύθου;
οὐδαμῶς τοιοῦτον οὐδέν.
“I don’t think so,” said Glaucon. “At any rate, not even the Homeridae claim it.”
“Well, is any war in Homer’s day remembered as having been fought well under his command or on his advice?”
“None.”
“Then are many clever inventions for the crafts or other practical activities attributed to him, of the kind you’d expect from a wise man at work, as they are to Thales of Miletus and Anacharsis the Scythian?”
“Nothing like that at all.”
ἀλλὰ δὴ εἰ μὴ δημοσίᾳ, ἰδίᾳ τισὶν ἡγεμὼν παιδείας αὐτὸς ζῶν λέγεται Ὅμηρος γενέσθαι, οἳ ἐκεῖνον ἠγάπων ἐπὶ 600b συνουσίᾳ καὶ τοῖς ὑστέροις ὁδόν τινα παρέδοσαν βίου Ὁμηρικήν, ὥσπερ Πυθαγόρας αὐτός τε διαφερόντως ἐπὶ τούτῳ ἠγαπήθη, καὶ οἱ ὕστεροι ἔτι καὶ νῦν Πυθαγόρειον τρόπον ἐπονομάζοντες τοῦ βίου διαφανεῖς πῃ δοκοῦσιν εἶναι ἐν τοῖς ἄλλοις;
“Well, if not in public, is Homer said to have been, while he lived, a leader in education for particular people in private, who loved him for his 600b company and handed down to those after them a Homeric way of life? Pythagoras, for instance, was especially loved for this himself, and his successors even now call their way of life Pythagorean and seem somehow to stand out among other people.”
οὐδʼ αὖ, ἔφη, τοιοῦτον οὐδὲν λέγεται. ὁ γὰρ Κρεώφυλος, ὦ Σώκρατες, ἴσως, ὁ τοῦ Ὁμήρου ἑταῖρος, τοῦ ὀνόματος ἂν γελοιότερος ἔτι πρὸς παιδείαν φανείη, εἰ τὰ λεγόμενα περὶ Ὁμήρου ἀληθῆ. λέγεται γὰρ ὡς πολλή τις ἀμέλεια περὶ 600c αὐτὸν ἦν ἐπʼ αὐτοῦ ἐκείνου, ὅτε ἔζη.
“Nothing like that is said about him either,” he said. “As for Creophylus, Socrates, Homer’s companion, his education might prove even more laughable than his name, if what’s said about Homer is true. For they say Homer was badly neglected by 600c him in his own day, while he was alive.”
λέγεται γὰρ οὖν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ. ἀλλʼ οἴει, ὦ Γλαύκων, εἰ τῷ ὄντι οἷός τʼ ἦν παιδεύειν ἀνθρώπους καὶ βελτίους ἀπεργάζεσθαι Ὅμηρος, ἅτε περὶ τούτων οὐ μιμεῖσθαι ἀλλὰ γιγνώσκειν δυνάμενος, οὐκ ἄρʼ ἂν πολλοὺς ἑταίρους ἐποιήσατο καὶ ἐτιμᾶτο καὶ ἠγαπᾶτο ὑπʼ αὐτῶν, ἀλλὰ Πρωταγόρας μὲν ἄρα ὁ Ἀβδηρίτης καὶ Πρόδικος ὁ Κεῖος καὶ ἄλλοι πάμπολλοι δύνανται τοῖς ἐφʼ ἑαυτῶν παριστάναι ἰδίᾳ συγγιγνόμενοι 600d ὡς οὔτε οἰκίαν οὔτε πόλιν τὴν αὑτῶν διοικεῖν οἷοί τʼ ἔσονται, ἐὰν μὴ σφεῖς αὐτῶν ἐπιστατήσωσιν τῆς παιδείας, καὶ ἐπὶ ταύτῃ τῇ σοφίᾳ οὕτω σφόδρα φιλοῦνται, ὥστε μόνον οὐκ ἐπὶ ταῖς κεφαλαῖς περιφέρουσιν αὐτοὺς οἱ ἑταῖροι· Ὅμηρον δʼ ἄρα οἱ ἐπʼ ἐκείνου, εἴπερ οἷός τʼ ἦν πρὸς ἀρετὴν ὀνῆσαι ἀνθρώπους, ἢ Ἡσίοδον ῥαψῳδεῖν ἂν περιιόντας εἴων, καὶ οὐχὶ μᾶλλον ἂν αὐτῶν ἀντείχοντο ἢ τοῦ χρυσοῦ καὶ 600e ἠνάγκαζον παρὰ σφίσιν οἴκοι εἶναι, ἢ εἰ μὴ ἔπειθον, αὐτοὶ ἂν ἐπαιδαγώγουν ὅπῃ ᾖσαν, ἕως ἱκανῶς παιδείας μεταλάβοιεν;
“Yes, that’s what they say,” I said. “But do you think, Glaucon, that if Homer had really been able to educate people and make them better, since he’d have had knowledge of these things and not just the ability to imitate them, he wouldn’t have gained many companions and been honored and loved by them? Protagoras of Abdera, Prodicus of Ceos, and a great many others can convince their contemporaries, by spending time with them in private, 600d that they won’t be able to manage their household or their city unless these men supervise their education; and they’re loved so intensely for this wisdom that their companions all but carry them around on their heads. Would Homer’s contemporaries, then, if he had been able to help people toward excellence, have let him, or Hesiod, go around reciting poems? Wouldn’t they have clung to them more than to gold and 600e forced them to stay at home with them, or, if they couldn’t persuade them, followed them around themselves wherever they went, until they’d had enough education?”
παντάπασιν, ἔφη, δοκεῖς μοι, ὦ Σώκρατες, ἀληθῆ λέγειν.
οὐκοῦν τιθῶμεν ἀπὸ Ὁμήρου ἀρξαμένους πάντας τοὺς ποιητικοὺς μιμητὰς εἰδώλων ἀρετῆς εἶναι καὶ τῶν ἄλλων περὶ ὧν ποιοῦσιν, τῆς δὲ ἀληθείας οὐχ ἅπτεσθαι, ἀλλʼ ὥσπερ νυνδὴ ἐλέγομεν, ὁ ζωγράφος σκυτοτόμον ποιήσει δοκοῦντα 601a εἶναι, αὐτός τε οὐκ ἐπαΐων περὶ σκυτοτομίας καὶ τοῖς μὴ ἐπαΐουσιν, ἐκ τῶν χρωμάτων δὲ καὶ σχημάτων θεωροῦσιν;
πάνυ μὲν οὖν.
“I think what you say is entirely true, Socrates,” he said.
“Then shall we take it that all poets, starting with Homer, are imitators of images of excellence and of the other things they write about, and don’t grasp the truth? Just as we were saying a moment ago, the painter will make what looks like a shoemaker, 601a though he himself understands nothing about shoemaking, to people who don’t understand it either, but judge by colors and shapes?”
“Certainly.”
οὕτω δὴ οἶμαι καὶ τὸν ποιητικὸν φήσομεν χρώματα ἄττα ἑκάστων τῶν τεχνῶν τοῖς ὀνόμασι καὶ ῥήμασιν ἐπιχρωματίζειν αὐτὸν οὐκ ἐπαΐοντα ἀλλʼ ἢ μιμεῖσθαι, ὥστε ἑτέροις τοιούτοις ἐκ τῶν λόγων θεωροῦσι δοκεῖν, ἐάντε περὶ σκυτοτομίας τις λέγῃ ἐν μέτρῳ καὶ ῥυθμῷ καὶ ἁρμονίᾳ, πάνυ εὖ δοκεῖν λέγεσθαι, ἐάντε περὶ στρατηγίας ἐάντε περὶ ἄλλου 601b ὁτουοῦν· οὕτω φύσει αὐτὰ ταῦτα μεγάλην τινὰ κήλησιν ἔχειν. ἐπεὶ γυμνωθέντα γε τῶν τῆς μουσικῆς χρωμάτων τὰ τῶν ποιητῶν, αὐτὰ ἐφʼ αὑτῶν λεγόμενα, οἶμαί σε εἰδέναι οἷα φαίνεται. τεθέασαι γάρ που.
ἔγωγʼ, ἔφη.
“In the same way, I think, we’ll say that the poet uses words and phrases to paint on the colors of each of the crafts, though he himself understands nothing but how to imitate, so that to others like him, who judge by the words, it seems that if someone speaks about shoemaking in meter and rhythm and harmony, he speaks very well—or about generalship, or about anything 601b else. So great is the spell these things naturally have. For when the poets’ works are stripped of their musical colors and spoken on their own, I think you know how they look. You’ve surely seen it.”
“I have,” he said.
οὐκοῦν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ἔοικεν τοῖς τῶν ὡραίων προσώποις, καλῶν δὲ μή, οἷα γίγνεται ἰδεῖν ὅταν αὐτὰ τὸ ἄνθος προλίπῃ;
παντάπασιν, ἦ δʼ ὅς.
ἴθι δή, τόδε ἄθρει· ὁ τοῦ εἰδώλου ποιητής, ὁ μιμητής, φαμέν, τοῦ μὲν ὄντος οὐδὲν ἐπαΐει, τοῦ δὲ φαινομένου· οὐχ 601c οὕτως;
ναί.
μὴ τοίνυν ἡμίσεως αὐτὸ καταλίπωμεν ῥηθέν, ἀλλʼ ἱκανῶς ἴδωμεν.
λέγε, ἔφη.
ζωγράφος, φαμέν, ἡνίας τε γράψει καὶ χαλινόν;
ναί.
ποιήσει δέ γε σκυτοτόμος καὶ χαλκεύς;
πάνυ γε.
“Aren’t they,” I said, “like the faces of people who are young but not beautiful, as they look when their bloom has left them?”
“Exactly,” he said.
“Come, then, consider this. The maker of the image, the imitator, we say, understands nothing about what is, only about what appears. Isn’t 601c that so?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s not leave it half said, but look at it properly.”
“Go on,” he said.
“A painter, we say, will paint reins and a bit?”
“Yes.”
“But a leatherworker and a smith will make them?”
“Certainly.”
ἆρʼ οὖν ἐπαΐει οἵας δεῖ τὰς ἡνίας εἶναι καὶ τὸν χαλινὸν ὁ γραφεύς; ἢ οὐδʼ ὁ ποιήσας, ὅ τε χαλκεὺς καὶ ὁ σκυτεύς, ἀλλʼ ἐκεῖνος ὅσπερ τούτοις ἐπίσταται χρῆσθαι, μόνος ὁ ἱππικός;
ἀληθέστατα.
ἆρʼ οὖν οὐ περὶ πάντα οὕτω φήσομεν ἔχειν;
πῶς; 601d
περὶ ἕκαστον ταύτας τινὰς τρεῖς τέχνας εἶναι, χρησομένην, ποιήσουσαν, μιμησομένην;
ναί.
οὐκοῦν ἀρετὴ καὶ κάλλος καὶ ὀρθότης ἑκάστου σκεύους καὶ ζῴου καὶ πράξεως οὐ πρὸς ἄλλο τι ἢ τὴν χρείαν ἐστίν, πρὸς ἣν ἂν ἕκαστον ᾖ πεποιημένον ἢ πεφυκός;
οὕτως.
“Now does the painter understand what the reins and the bit should be like? Or doesn’t even the one who makes them, the smith or the leatherworker, understand it, but only the one who knows how to use them, the horseman?”
“Very true.”
“And won’t we say it’s like this with everything?”
“How?” 601d
“That for each thing there are these three crafts: one that will use it, one that will make it, and one that will imitate it?”
“Yes.”
“And aren’t the excellence, beauty, and correctness of each piece of equipment, each living thing, and each action related to nothing but the use for which each was made, or for which it is naturally suited?”
“That’s so.”
πολλὴ ἄρα ἀνάγκη τὸν χρώμενον ἑκάστῳ ἐμπειρότατόν τε εἶναι καὶ ἄγγελον γίγνεσθαι τῷ ποιητῇ οἷα ἀγαθὰ ἢ κακὰ ποιεῖ ἐν τῇ χρείᾳ ᾧ χρῆται· οἷον αὐλητής που αὐλοποιῷ 601e ἐξαγγέλλει περὶ τῶν αὐλῶν, οἳ ἂν ὑπηρετῶσιν ἐν τῷ αὐλεῖν, καὶ ἐπιτάξει οἵους δεῖ ποιεῖν, ὁ δʼ ὑπηρετήσει.
πῶς δʼ οὔ;
οὐκοῦν ὁ μὲν εἰδὼς ἐξαγγέλλει περὶ χρηστῶν καὶ πονηρῶν αὐλῶν, ὁ δὲ πιστεύων ποιήσει;
ναί.
“So it’s entirely necessary that the user of each thing be the most experienced with it, and that he tell the maker how well or badly the thing he uses performs in use. A pipe-player, for example, 601e reports to the pipe-maker about the pipes that serve him in his playing, and will prescribe how they should be made, and the maker will serve him.”
“Of course.”
“So the one who knows reports on good and bad pipes, and the other, trusting him, will make them?”
“Yes.”
τοῦ αὐτοῦ ἄρα σκεύους ὁ μὲν ποιητὴς πίστιν ὀρθὴν ἕξει περὶ κάλλους τε καὶ πονηρίας, συνὼν τῷ εἰδότι καὶ ἀναγκαζόμενος 602a ἀκούειν παρὰ τοῦ εἰδότος, ὁ δὲ χρώμενος ἐπιστήμην.
πάνυ γε.
ὁ δὲ μιμητὴς πότερον ἐκ τοῦ χρῆσθαι ἐπιστήμην ἕξει περὶ ὧν ἂν γράφῃ, εἴτε καλὰ καὶ ὀρθὰ εἴτε μή, ἢ δόξαν ὀρθὴν διὰ τὸ ἐξ ἀνάγκης συνεῖναι τῷ εἰδότι καὶ ἐπιτάττεσθαι οἷα χρὴ γράφειν;
οὐδέτερα.
οὔτε ἄρα εἴσεται οὔτε ὀρθὰ δοξάσει ὁ μιμητὴς περὶ ὧν ἂν μιμῆται πρὸς κάλλος ἢ πονηρίαν.
οὐκ ἔοικεν.
“So about the same piece of equipment, the maker will have correct belief about its fineness and badness, because he associates with the one who knows and is compelled 602a to listen to him, while the user will have knowledge.”
“Certainly.”
“And the imitator? Will he have knowledge, from using them, of whether the things he paints are fine and correct or not? Or correct opinion, through being compelled to associate with the one who knows and being told how he should paint them?”
“Neither.”
“So the imitator will neither know nor have correct opinion about the things he imitates, as to their fineness or badness.”
“It seems not.”
χαρίεις ἂν εἴη ὁ ἐν τῇ ποιήσει μιμητικὸς πρὸς σοφίαν περὶ ὧν ἂν ποιῇ.
οὐ πάνυ. 602b
ἀλλʼ οὖν δὴ ὅμως γε μιμήσεται, οὐκ εἰδὼς περὶ ἑκάστου ὅπῃ πονηρὸν ἢ χρηστόν· ἀλλʼ, ὡς ἔοικεν, οἷον φαίνεται καλὸν εἶναι τοῖς πολλοῖς τε καὶ μηδὲν εἰδόσιν, τοῦτο μιμήσεται.
τί γὰρ ἄλλο;
“Then the imitator in poetry would be in a charming state of wisdom about the things he writes about!”
“Hardly.” 602b
“Still, he’ll go on imitating anyway, without knowing in what way each thing is bad or good. Instead, it seems, he’ll imitate whatever appears fine to the many, who know nothing.”
“What else?”
ταῦτα μὲν δή, ὥς γε φαίνεται, ἐπιεικῶς ἡμῖν διωμολόγηται, τόν τε μιμητικὸν μηδὲν εἰδέναι ἄξιον λόγου περὶ ὧν μιμεῖται, ἀλλʼ εἶναι παιδιάν τινα καὶ οὐ σπουδὴν τὴν μίμησιν, τούς τε τῆς τραγικῆς ποιήσεως ἁπτομένους ἐν ἰαμβείοις καὶ ἐν ἔπεσι πάντας εἶναι μιμητικοὺς ὡς οἷόν τε μάλιστα.
πάνυ μὲν οὖν. 602c
πρὸς Διός, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, τὸ δὲ δὴ μιμεῖσθαι τοῦτο οὐ περὶ τρίτον μέν τί ἐστιν ἀπὸ τῆς ἀληθείας; ἦ γάρ;
ναί.
πρὸς δὲ δὴ ποῖόν τί ἐστιν τῶν τοῦ ἀνθρώπου ἔχον τὴν δύναμιν ἣν ἔχει;
“Well, it seems we’re fairly well agreed on these points: that the imitator knows nothing worth mentioning about the things he imitates, that imitation is a kind of play and not a serious business, and that those who take up tragic poetry, in iambic or epic verse, are all imitators to the highest possible degree.”
“Certainly.” 602c
“Now, by Zeus,” I said, “isn’t this imitating concerned with something at the third remove from the truth? Isn’t that so?”
“Yes.”
“Then on what sort of part of a human being does it exert the power it has?”
τοῦ ποίου τινὸς πέρι λέγεις;
τοῦ τοιοῦδε· ταὐτόν που ἡμῖν μέγεθος ἐγγύθεν τε καὶ πόρρωθεν διὰ τῆς ὄψεως οὐκ ἴσον φαίνεται.
οὐ γάρ.
καὶ ταὐτὰ καμπύλα τε καὶ εὐθέα ἐν ὕδατί τε θεωμένοις καὶ ἔξω, καὶ κοῖλά τε δὴ καὶ ἐξέχοντα διὰ τὴν περὶ τὰ χρώματα αὖ πλάνην τῆς ὄψεως, καὶ πᾶσά τις ταραχὴ δήλη 602d ἡμῖν ἐνοῦσα αὕτη ἐν τῇ ψυχῇ· ᾧ δὴ ἡμῶν τῷ παθήματι τῆς φύσεως ἡ σκιαγραφία ἐπιθεμένη γοητείας οὐδὲν ἀπολείπει, καὶ ἡ θαυματοποιία καὶ αἱ ἄλλαι πολλαὶ τοιαῦται μηχαναί.
ἀληθῆ.
“What sort of part are you asking about?”
“This sort. The same magnitude, I suppose, doesn’t look equal to us through our sight when it’s near and when it’s far away.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“And the same things look bent and straight when we view them in water and out of it, and concave and convex too, because sight is misled in turn by colors; and every sort of confusion of this kind is clearly 602d present in our soul. It’s this weakness in our nature that shadow-painting exploits, and it falls short of nothing in sorcery; so do conjuring and the many other tricks like it.”
“True.”
ἆρʼ οὖν οὐ τὸ μετρεῖν καὶ ἀριθμεῖν καὶ ἱστάναι βοήθειαι χαριέσταται πρὸς αὐτὰ ἐφάνησαν, ὥστε μὴ ἄρχειν ἐν ἡμῖν τὸ φαινόμενον μεῖζον ἢ ἔλαττον ἢ πλέον ἢ βαρύτερον, ἀλλὰ τὸ λογισάμενον καὶ μετρῆσαν ἢ καὶ στῆσαν;
πῶς γὰρ οὔ; 602e
ἀλλὰ μὴν τοῦτό γε τοῦ λογιστικοῦ ἂν εἴη τοῦ ἐν ψυχῇ ἔργον.
τούτου γὰρ οὖν.
τούτῳ δὲ πολλάκις μετρήσαντι καὶ σημαίνοντι μείζω ἄττα εἶναι ἢ ἐλάττω ἕτερα ἑτέρων ἢ ἴσα τἀναντία φαίνεται ἅμα περὶ ταὐτά.
ναί.
“Well, haven’t measuring, counting and weighing turned out to be the most welcome helpers against these things, so that what rules in us isn’t what appears bigger or smaller or more or heavier, but what has calculated and measured, or even weighed?”
“Of course.” 602e
“And that, surely, would be the work of the reasoning part in the soul.”
“Yes, it would be that part’s.”
“Yet often, when this part has measured and indicates that some things are bigger or smaller than others, or equal, the opposite appears to it at the same time about the same things.”
“Yes.”
οὐκοῦν ἔφαμεν τῷ αὐτῷ ἅμα περὶ ταὐτὰ ἐναντία δοξάζειν ἀδύνατον εἶναι;
καὶ ὀρθῶς γʼ ἔφαμεν.
τὸ παρὰ τὰ μέτρα ἄρα δοξάζον τῆς ψυχῆς τῷ κατὰ τὰ μέτρα οὐκ ἂν εἴη ταὐτόν.
οὐ γὰρ οὖν.
ἀλλὰ μὴν τὸ μέτρῳ γε καὶ λογισμῷ πιστεῦον βέλτιστον ἂν εἴη τῆς ψυχῆς.
τί μήν;
τὸ ἄρα τούτῳ ἐναντιούμενον τῶν φαύλων ἄν τι εἴη ἐν ἡμῖν.
ἀνάγκη.
“Now didn’t we say that it’s impossible for the same thing to hold opposite opinions about the same things at the same time?”
“And we were right to say it.”
“Then the part of the soul that forms opinions contrary to the measurements can’t be the same as the part that forms them in accordance with the measurements.”
“No, it can’t.”
“But the part that trusts measurement and calculation would be the best part of the soul.”
“Of course.”
“So the part opposed to it would be one of the inferior things in us.”
“Necessarily.”
τοῦτο τοίνυν διομολογήσασθαι βουλόμενος ἔλεγον ὅτι ἡ γραφικὴ καὶ ὅλως ἡ μιμητικὴ πόρρω μὲν τῆς ἀληθείας ὂν τὸ αὑτῆς ἔργον ἀπεργάζεται, πόρρω δʼ αὖ φρονήσεως ὄντι τῷ 603b ἐν ἡμῖν προσομιλεῖ τε καὶ ἑταίρα καὶ φίλη ἐστὶν ἐπʼ οὐδενὶ ὑγιεῖ οὐδʼ ἀληθεῖ.
παντάπασιν, ἦ δʼ ὅς.
φαύλη ἄρα φαύλῳ συγγιγνομένη φαῦλα γεννᾷ ἡ μιμητική.
ἔοικεν.
πότερον, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ἡ κατὰ τὴν ὄψιν μόνον, ἢ καὶ κατὰ τὴν ἀκοήν, ἣν δὴ ποίησιν ὀνομάζομεν;
εἰκός γʼ, ἔφη, καὶ ταύτην.
“This, then, is what I wanted us to agree on when I said that painting, and imitation as a whole, produces its own work far from the truth, and that it keeps company with the part of us 603b that is far from understanding, and is its companion and friend for no healthy or true purpose.”
“Absolutely,” he said.
“So imitation, an inferior thing mating with an inferior thing, breeds inferior offspring.”
“So it seems.”
“Is that true only of the kind that concerns sight,” I said, “or also of the kind that concerns hearing, which we call poetry?”
“Probably that kind too,” he said.
μὴ τοίνυν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, τῷ εἰκότι μόνον πιστεύσωμεν ἐκ τῆς γραφικῆς, ἀλλὰ καὶ ἐπʼ αὐτὸ αὖ ἔλθωμεν τῆς διανοίας 603c τοῦτο ᾧ προσομιλεῖ ἡ τῆς ποιήσεως μιμητική, καὶ ἴδωμεν φαῦλον ἢ σπουδαῖόν ἐστιν.
ἀλλὰ χρή.
ὧδε δὴ προθώμεθα· πράττοντας, φαμέν, ἀνθρώπους μιμεῖται ἡ μιμητικὴ βιαίους ἢ ἑκουσίας πράξεις, καὶ ἐκ τοῦ πράττειν ἢ εὖ οἰομένους ἢ κακῶς πεπραγέναι, καὶ ἐν τούτοις δὴ πᾶσιν ἢ λυπουμένους ἢ χαίροντας. μή τι ἄλλο ἦν παρὰ ταῦτα;
οὐδέν.
“Then let’s not rely only on the likelihood drawn from painting,” I said. “Let’s go on to that very part of the mind 603c with which poetic imitation keeps company, and see whether it’s inferior or worth taking seriously.”
“We must.”
“Let’s set it out like this. Imitation, we say, imitates human beings performing actions, forced or voluntary, who think that as a result of their actions they have fared well or badly, and who in all of this feel either pain or pleasure. Was there anything besides these?”
“Nothing.”
ἆρʼ οὖν ἐν ἅπασι τούτοις ὁμονοητικῶς ἄνθρωπος διάκειται; 603d ἢ ὥσπερ κατὰ τὴν ὄψιν ἐστασίαζεν καὶ ἐναντίας εἶχεν ἐν ἑαυτῷ δόξας ἅμα περὶ τῶν αὐτῶν, οὕτω καὶ ἐν ταῖς πράξεσι στασιάζει τε καὶ μάχεται αὐτὸς αὑτῷ; ἀναμιμνῄσκομαι δὲ ὅτι τοῦτό γε νῦν οὐδὲν δεῖ ἡμᾶς διομολογεῖσθαι· ἐν γὰρ τοῖς ἄνω λόγοις ἱκανῶς πάντα ταῦτα διωμολογησάμεθα, ὅτι μυρίων τοιούτων ἐναντιωμάτων ἅμα γιγνομένων ἡ ψυχὴ γέμει ἡμῶν.
ὀρθῶς, ἔφη.
ὀρθῶς γάρ, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ· ἀλλʼ ὃ τότε ἀπελίπομεν, νῦν μοι 603e δοκεῖ ἀναγκαῖον εἶναι διεξελθεῖν.
τὸ ποῖον; ἔφη.
“Then in all these situations is a person of one mind with himself? 603d Or, just as with sight he was at odds with himself and held opposite opinions within himself about the same things at the same time, is he also at odds and at war with himself in his actions? But I’m reminded that we don’t need to reach agreement on this now. In our earlier discussion we agreed well enough on all of it: that our soul is full of countless oppositions of this kind occurring at the same time.”
“Rightly,” he said.
“Yes, rightly,” I said. “But what we left out then, I think we now 603e have to go through.”
“What’s that?” he said.
ἀνήρ, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ἐπιεικὴς τοιᾶσδε τύχης μετασχών, ὑὸν ἀπολέσας ἤ τι ἄλλο ὧν περὶ πλείστου ποιεῖται, ἐλέγομέν που καὶ τότε ὅτι ῥᾷστα οἴσει τῶν ἄλλων.
πάνυ γε.
νῦν δέ γε τόδʼ ἐπισκεψώμεθα, πότερον οὐδὲν ἀχθέσεται, ἢ τοῦτο μὲν ἀδύνατον, μετριάσει δέ πως πρὸς λύπην.
οὕτω μᾶλλον, ἔφη, τό γε ἀληθές.
τόδε νῦν μοι περὶ αὐτοῦ εἰπέ· πότερον μᾶλλον αὐτὸν οἴει τῇ λύπῃ μαχεῖσθαί τε καὶ ἀντιτείνειν, ὅταν ὁρᾶται ὑπὸ τῶν ὁμοίων, ἢ ὅταν ἐν ἐρημίᾳ μόνος αὐτὸς καθʼ αὑτὸν γίγνηται;
“A decent man,” I said, “who meets with a misfortune like losing a son, or anything else he values most, will bear it more easily than others. We said that then too, I think.”
“Certainly.”
“Now let’s look at this: will he feel no grief at all, or is that impossible, and will he instead somehow be moderate in the face of pain?”
“The second is closer to the truth,” he said.
“Now tell me this about him. Do you think he’ll fight and resist his pain more when he’s seen by his peers, or when he’s alone by himself in solitude?”
πολύ που, ἔφη, διοίσει, ὅταν ὁρᾶται.
μονωθεὶς δέ γε οἶμαι πολλὰ μὲν τολμήσει φθέγξασθαι, ἃ εἴ τις αὐτοῦ ἀκούοι αἰσχύνοιτʼ ἄν, πολλὰ δὲ ποιήσει, ἃ οὐκ ἂν δέξαιτό τινα ἰδεῖν δρῶντα.
οὕτως ἔχει, ἔφη.
οὐκοῦν τὸ μὲν ἀντιτείνειν διακελευόμενον λόγος καὶ νόμος 604b ἐστίν, τὸ δὲ ἕλκον ἐπὶ τὰς λύπας αὐτὸ τὸ πάθος;
ἀληθῆ.
ἐναντίας δὲ ἀγωγῆς γιγνομένης ἐν τῷ ἀνθρώπῳ περὶ τὸ αὐτὸ ἅμα, δύο φαμὲν αὐτὼ ἀναγκαῖον εἶναι.
πῶς δʼ οὔ;
“Far more, I suppose,” he said, “when he’s seen.”
“But when he’s alone, I think, he’ll dare to say many things he’d be ashamed for anyone to hear, and do many things he wouldn’t want anyone to see him doing.”
“That’s so,” he said.
“Now what urges him to resist is reason and law, 604b and what drags him toward grief is the feeling itself?”
“True.”
“And when there are opposite pulls in a person about the same thing at the same time, we say there must be two things in him.”
“Of course.”
οὐκοῦν τὸ μὲν ἕτερον τῷ νόμῳ ἕτοιμον πείθεσθαι, ᾗ ὁ νόμος ἐξηγεῖται;
πῶς;
λέγει που ὁ νόμος ὅτι κάλλιστον ὅτι μάλιστα ἡσυχίαν ἄγειν ἐν ταῖς συμφοραῖς καὶ μὴ ἀγανακτεῖν, ὡς οὔτε δήλου ὄντος τοῦ ἀγαθοῦ τε καὶ κακοῦ τῶν τοιούτων, οὔτε εἰς τὸ πρόσθεν οὐδὲν προβαῖνον τῷ χαλεπῶς φέροντι, οὔτε τι τῶν 604c ἀνθρωπίνων ἄξιον ὂν μεγάλης σπουδῆς, ὅ τε δεῖ ἐν αὐτοῖς ὅτι τάχιστα παραγίγνεσθαι ἡμῖν, τούτῳ ἐμποδὼν γιγνόμενον τὸ λυπεῖσθαι.
τίνι, ἦ δʼ ὅς, λέγεις;
“And isn’t one of them ready to obey the law, wherever the law leads?”
“How do you mean?”
“The law says, I suppose, that it’s finest to stay as calm as possible in misfortunes and not be upset. It isn’t clear what is good or bad in such things; taking it hard gets you nowhere; nothing 604c human is worth great seriousness; and grieving gets in the way of the thing that ought to come to our aid as quickly as possible in these circumstances.”
“Gets in the way of what?” he said.
τῷ βουλεύεσθαι, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, περὶ τὸ γεγονὸς καὶ ὥσπερ ἐν πτώσει κύβων πρὸς τὰ πεπτωκότα τίθεσθαι τὰ αὑτοῦ πράγματα, ὅπῃ ὁ λόγος αἱρεῖ βέλτιστʼ ἂν ἔχειν, ἀλλὰ μὴ προσπταίσαντας καθάπερ παῖδας ἐχομένους τοῦ πληγέντος ἐν τῷ βοᾶν διατρίβειν, ἀλλʼ ἀεὶ ἐθίζειν τὴν ψυχὴν ὅτι 604d τάχιστα γίγνεσθαι πρὸς τὸ ἰᾶσθαί τε καὶ ἐπανορθοῦν τὸ πεσόν τε καὶ νοσῆσαν, ἰατρικῇ θρηνῳδίαν ἀφανίζοντα.
ὀρθότατα γοῦν ἄν τις, ἔφη, πρὸς τὰς τύχας οὕτω προσφέροιτο.
οὐκοῦν, φαμέν, τὸ μὲν βέλτιστον τούτῳ τῷ λογισμῷ ἐθέλει ἕπεσθαι.
δῆλον δή.
“Of deliberating about what has happened,” I said, “and, as with a throw of the dice, arranging one’s affairs in light of how things have fallen, in whatever way reason judges best. We shouldn’t be like children who’ve taken a knock, clutching the sore spot and wasting our time howling. We should always train the soul to turn as 604d quickly as possible to healing and to setting right what has fallen and is sick, doing away with lament through medicine.”
“That would certainly be the most correct way to deal with misfortunes,” he said.
“And the best part of us, we say, is willing to follow this reasoning.”
“Clearly.”
τὸ δὲ πρὸς τὰς ἀναμνήσεις τε τοῦ πάθους καὶ πρὸς τοὺς ὀδυρμοὺς ἄγον καὶ ἀπλήστως ἔχον αὐτῶν ἆρʼ οὐκ ἀλόγιστόν τε φήσομεν εἶναι καὶ ἀργὸν καὶ δειλίας φίλον;
φήσομεν μὲν οὖν. 604e
οὐκοῦν τὸ μὲν πολλὴν μίμησιν καὶ ποικίλην ἔχει, τὸ ἀγανακτητικόν, τὸ δὲ φρόνιμόν τε καὶ ἡσύχιον ἦθος, παραπλήσιον ὂν ἀεὶ αὐτὸ αὑτῷ, οὔτε ῥᾴδιον μιμήσασθαι οὔτε μιμουμένου εὐπετὲς καταμαθεῖν, ἄλλως τε καὶ πανηγύρει καὶ παντοδαποῖς ἀνθρώποις εἰς θέατρα συλλεγομένοις· ἀλλοτρίου γάρ που πάθους ἡ μίμησις αὐτοῖς γίγνεται.
παντάπασι μὲν οὖν.
“And the part that leads us to dwell on the memory of our suffering and to lamentation, and can never get enough of them—won’t we say it’s irrational, idle, and a friend of cowardice?”
“We will.” 604e
“Now the fretful part offers plenty of varied material for imitation. But the sensible and calm character, always much the same as itself, is neither easy to imitate nor, when imitated, easy to understand—especially for a festival crowd, all sorts of people gathered in theaters. The imitation is of a state of feeling that’s foreign to them.”
“Absolutely.”
ὁ δὴ μιμητικὸς ποιητὴς δῆλον ὅτι οὐ πρὸς τὸ τοιοῦτον τῆς ψυχῆς πέφυκέ τε καὶ ἡ σοφία αὐτοῦ τούτῳ ἀρέσκειν πέπηγεν, εἰ μέλλει εὐδοκιμήσειν ἐν τοῖς πολλοῖς, ἀλλὰ πρὸς τὸ ἀγανακτητικόν τε καὶ ποικίλον ἦθος διὰ τὸ εὐμίμητον εἶναι.
δῆλον.
“Clearly, then, the imitative poet isn’t naturally drawn toward that part of the soul, and his wisdom isn’t geared to pleasing it, if he’s going to win a good name among the many. He’s drawn toward the fretful and varied character, because it’s easy to imitate.”
“Clearly.”
οὐκοῦν δικαίως ἂν αὐτοῦ ἤδη ἐπιλαμβανοίμεθα, καὶ τιθεῖμεν ἀντίστροφον αὐτὸν τῷ ζωγράφῳ· καὶ γὰρ τῷ φαῦλα ποιεῖν πρὸς ἀλήθειαν ἔοικεν αὐτῷ, καὶ τῷ πρὸς ἕτερον τοιοῦτον 605b ὁμιλεῖν τῆς ψυχῆς ἀλλὰ μὴ πρὸς τὸ βέλτιστον, καὶ ταύτῃ ὡμοίωται. καὶ οὕτως ἤδη ἂν ἐν δίκῃ οὐ παραδεχοίμεθα εἰς μέλλουσαν εὐνομεῖσθαι πόλιν, ὅτι τοῦτο ἐγείρει τῆς ψυχῆς καὶ τρέφει καὶ ἰσχυρὸν ποιῶν ἀπόλλυσι τὸ λογιστικόν, ὥσπερ ἐν πόλει ὅταν τις μοχθηροὺς ἐγκρατεῖς ποιῶν παραδιδῷ τὴν πόλιν, τοὺς δὲ χαριεστέρους φθείρῃ· ταὐτὸν καὶ τὸν μιμητικὸν ποιητὴν φήσομεν κακὴν πολιτείαν ἰδίᾳ ἑκάστου τῇ ψυχῇ ἐμποιεῖν, τῷ ἀνοήτῳ αὐτῆς 605c χαριζόμενον καὶ οὔτε τὰ μείζω οὔτε τὰ ἐλάττω διαγιγνώσκοντι, ἀλλὰ τὰ αὐτὰ τοτὲ μὲν μεγάλα ἡγουμένῳ, τοτὲ δὲ σμικρά, εἴδωλα εἰδωλοποιοῦντα, τοῦ δὲ ἀληθοῦς πόρρω πάνυ ἀφεστῶτα.
“So now we’d be justified in taking hold of him and setting him beside the painter as his counterpart. He resembles the painter in producing things that are inferior with respect to truth; and he’s like him in this too, that he keeps company with 605b a part of the soul that is likewise inferior, and not with the best part. And so we’d at last be justified in refusing to admit him into a city that is going to be well governed, because he arouses this part of the soul, nourishes it, and by making it strong destroys the reasoning part—just as happens in a city when someone makes bad men powerful and hands the city over to them, and ruins the better sort. In the same way we’ll say that the imitative poet sets up a bad constitution privately in each person’s soul, gratifying its senseless part, 605c which can’t tell bigger from smaller but thinks the same things are now big, now small. He makes mere images, and stands very far from the truth.”
πάνυ μὲν οὖν.
οὐ μέντοι πω τό γε μέγιστον κατηγορήκαμεν αὐτῆς. τὸ γὰρ καὶ τοὺς ἐπιεικεῖς ἱκανὴν εἶναι λωβᾶσθαι, ἐκτὸς πάνυ τινῶν ὀλίγων, πάνδεινόν που.
τί δʼ οὐ μέλλει, εἴπερ γε δρᾷ αὐτό;
“Certainly.”
“But we haven’t yet made the gravest accusation against it. Its ability to corrupt even decent people, with very few exceptions, is surely quite terrible.”
“How could it not be, if it really does that?”
ἀκούων σκόπει. οἱ γάρ που βέλτιστοι ἡμῶν ἀκροώμενοι Ὁμήρου ἢ ἄλλου τινὸς τῶν τραγῳδοποιῶν μιμουμένου 605d τινὰ τῶν ἡρώων ἐν πένθει ὄντα καὶ μακρὰν ῥῆσιν ἀποτείνοντα ἐν τοῖς ὀδυρμοῖς ἢ καὶ ᾄδοντάς τε καὶ κοπτομένους, οἶσθʼ ὅτι χαίρομέν τε καὶ ἐνδόντες ἡμᾶς αὐτοὺς ἑπόμεθα συμπάσχοντες καὶ σπουδάζοντες ἐπαινοῦμεν ὡς ἀγαθὸν ποιητήν, ὃς ἂν ἡμᾶς ὅτι μάλιστα οὕτω διαθῇ.
οἶδα· πῶς δʼ οὔ;
“Listen and consider. When the best of us hear Homer, or one of the other tragic poets, imitating 605d one of the heroes in mourning, drawing out a long speech of lamentation, or singing and beating their breasts, you know that we enjoy it. We give ourselves up to it and follow along, sharing the suffering, and we earnestly praise as a good poet whoever puts us most in that state.”
“I know. Of course.”
ὅταν δὲ οἰκεῖόν τινι ἡμῶν κῆδος γένηται, ἐννοεῖς αὖ ὅτι ἐπὶ τῷ ἐναντίῳ καλλωπιζόμεθα, ἂν δυνώμεθα ἡσυχίαν ἄγειν 605e καὶ καρτερεῖν, ὡς τοῦτο μὲν ἀνδρὸς ὄν, ἐκεῖνο δὲ γυναικός, ὃ τότε ἐπῃνοῦμεν.
ἐννοῶ, ἔφη.
ἦ καλῶς οὖν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, οὗτος ὁ ἔπαινος ἔχει, τὸ ὁρῶντα τοιοῦτον ἄνδρα, οἷον ἑαυτόν τις μὴ ἀξιοῖ εἶναι ἀλλʼ αἰσχύνοιτο ἄν, μὴ βδελύττεσθαι ἀλλὰ χαίρειν τε καὶ ἐπαινεῖν;
οὐ μὰ τὸν Δίʼ, ἔφη, οὐκ εὐλόγῳ ἔοικεν.
ναί, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, εἰ ἐκείνῃ γʼ αὐτὸ σκοποίης.
πῇ;
“But when a sorrow of our own comes to one of us, you notice that we pride ourselves on the opposite—on being able to keep calm 605e and endure it—on the grounds that this is a man’s part, and what we praised back then a woman’s.”
“I notice,” he said.
“Then is this praise right,” I said, “when we see a man of a kind we wouldn’t think fit to be ourselves, and would be ashamed to be, and instead of being disgusted we enjoy it and praise him?”
“No, by Zeus,” he said, “that doesn’t seem reasonable.”
“No,” I said, “especially if you look at it this way.”
“How?”
εἰ ἐνθυμοῖο ὅτι τὸ βίᾳ κατεχόμενον τότε ἐν ταῖς οἰκείαις συμφοραῖς καὶ πεπεινηκὸς τοῦ δακρῦσαί τε καὶ ἀποδύρασθαι ἱκανῶς καὶ ἀποπλησθῆναι, φύσει ὂν τοιοῦτον οἷον τούτων ἐπιθυμεῖν, τότʼ ἐστὶν τοῦτο τὸ ὑπὸ τῶν ποιητῶν πιμπλάμενον καὶ χαῖρον· τὸ δὲ φύσει βέλτιστον ἡμῶν, ἅτε οὐχ ἱκανῶς πεπαιδευμένον λόγῳ οὐδὲ ἔθει, ἀνίησιν τὴν φυλακὴν τοῦ 606b θρηνώδους τούτου, ἅτε ἀλλότρια πάθη θεωροῦν καὶ ἑαυτῷ οὐδὲν αἰσχρὸν ὂν εἰ ἄλλος ἀνὴρ ἀγαθὸς φάσκων εἶναι ἀκαίρως πενθεῖ, τοῦτον ἐπαινεῖν καὶ ἐλεεῖν, ἀλλʼ ἐκεῖνο κερδαίνειν ἡγεῖται, τὴν ἡδονήν, καὶ οὐκ ἂν δέξαιτο αὐτῆς στερηθῆναι καταφρονήσας ὅλου τοῦ ποιήματος. λογίζεσθαι γὰρ οἶμαι ὀλίγοις τισὶν μέτεστιν ὅτι ἀπολαύειν ἀνάγκη ἀπὸ τῶν ἀλλοτρίων εἰς τὰ οἰκεῖα· θρέψαντα γὰρ ἐν ἐκείνοις ἰσχυρὸν τὸ ἐλεινὸν οὐ ῥᾴδιον ἐν τοῖς αὑτοῦ πάθεσι κατέχειν. 606c
“If you consider that the part of us held down by force in our own misfortunes, which has been hungering to weep and wail to its heart’s content and be satisfied, since by nature it desires these things, is the very part that the poets fill up and gratify. And the naturally best part of us, because it hasn’t been adequately educated by reason or habit, relaxes its guard over 606b this mournful part. It’s watching someone else’s sufferings, after all, and there’s nothing shameful for itself in praising and pitying another man who claims to be good but grieves out of season. Rather, it thinks it gains something—the pleasure—and wouldn’t accept being deprived of it by despising the whole poem. For only a few, I think, are capable of reckoning that what we enjoy from others’ experiences necessarily carries over into our own. Once you’ve nourished the pitying part and made it strong on those, it isn’t easy to hold it down in your own sufferings.” 606c
ἀληθέστατα, ἔφη.
ἆρʼ οὖν οὐχ ὁ αὐτὸς λόγος καὶ περὶ τοῦ γελοίου; ὅτι, ἃν αὐτὸς αἰσχύνοιο γελωτοποιῶν, ἐν μιμήσει δὲ κωμῳδικῇ ἢ καὶ ἰδίᾳ ἀκούων σφόδρα χαρῇς καὶ μὴ μισῇς ὡς πονηρά, ταὐτὸν ποιεῖς ὅπερ ἐν τοῖς ἐλέοις; ὃ γὰρ τῷ λόγῳ αὖ κατεῖχες ἐν σαυτῷ βουλόμενον γελωτοποιεῖν, φοβούμενος δόξαν βωμολοχίας, τότʼ αὖ ἀνιεῖς, καὶ ἐκεῖ νεανικὸν ποιήσας ἔλαθες πολλάκις ἐν τοῖς οἰκείοις ἐξενεχθεὶς ὥστε κωμῳδοποιὸς γενέσθαι.
καὶ μάλα, ἔφη. 606d
“Very true,” he said.
“And doesn’t the same argument apply to the laughable? If there are jokes you’d be ashamed to make yourself, but you hear them in comic imitation, or even in private, and enjoy them hugely instead of hating them as base, aren’t you doing the same as with pity? The part of you that wanted to play the clown, which you held down with reason for fear of being thought a buffoon, you now let loose; and having made it lively there, you’re often carried away without noticing in your own life, so that you turn into a comic poet yourself.”
“Very much so,” he said. 606d
καὶ περὶ ἀφροδισίων δὴ καὶ θυμοῦ καὶ περὶ πάντων τῶν ἐπιθυμητικῶν τε καὶ λυπηρῶν καὶ ἡδέων ἐν τῇ ψυχῇ, ἃ δή φαμεν πάσῃ πράξει ἡμῖν ἕπεσθαι, ὅτι τοιαῦτα ἡμᾶς ἡ ποιητικὴ μίμησις ἐργάζεται· τρέφει γὰρ ταῦτα ἄρδουσα, δέον αὐχμεῖν, καὶ ἄρχοντα ἡμῖν καθίστησιν, δέον ἄρχεσθαι αὐτὰ ἵνα βελτίους τε καὶ εὐδαιμονέστεροι ἀντὶ χειρόνων καὶ ἀθλιωτέρων γιγνώμεθα.
οὐκ ἔχω ἄλλως φάναι, ἦ δʼ ὅς. 606e
“And as for sex and anger and all the desires, pains and pleasures in the soul, which we say accompany our every action, poetic imitation has the same effect on us. It nourishes them by watering them when they ought to dry up, and sets them up as our rulers when they ought to be ruled, so that we may become better and happier rather than worse and more wretched.”
“I can’t say otherwise,” he said. 606e
οὐκοῦν, εἶπον, ὦ Γλαύκων, ὅταν Ὁμήρου ἐπαινέταις ἐντύχῃς λέγουσιν ὡς τὴν Ἑλλάδα πεπαίδευκεν οὗτος ὁ ποιητὴς καὶ πρὸς διοίκησίν τε καὶ παιδείαν τῶν ἀνθρωπίνων πραγμάτων ἄξιος ἀναλαβόντι μανθάνειν τε καὶ κατὰ τοῦτον τὸν ποιητὴν πάντα τὸν αὑτοῦ βίον κατασκευασάμενον ζῆν, 607a φιλεῖν μὲν χρὴ καὶ ἀσπάζεσθαι ὡς ὄντας βελτίστους εἰς ὅσον δύνανται, καὶ συγχωρεῖν Ὅμηρον ποιητικώτατον εἶναι καὶ πρῶτον τῶν τραγῳδοποιῶν, εἰδέναι δὲ ὅτι ὅσον μόνον ὕμνους θεοῖς καὶ ἐγκώμια τοῖς ἀγαθοῖς ποιήσεως παραδεκτέον εἰς πόλιν·
“Then, Glaucon,” I said, “when you meet admirers of Homer who say that this poet educated Greece, and that for managing human affairs and educating people in them he deserves to be taken up and studied, and that one should arrange one’s whole life by following this poet, 607a you should love and welcome them as people who are as good as they’re able to be, and agree that Homer is the most poetic of poets and the first of the tragedians. But you should know that the only poetry we can admit into our city is hymns to the gods and praises of good people.
εἰ δὲ τὴν ἡδυσμένην Μοῦσαν παραδέξῃ ἐν μέλεσιν ἢ ἔπεσιν, ἡδονή σοι καὶ λύπη ἐν τῇ πόλει βασιλεύσετον ἀντὶ νόμου τε καὶ τοῦ κοινῇ ἀεὶ δόξαντος εἶναι βελτίστου λόγου.
ἀληθέστατα, ἔφη. 607b
“If you admit the honeyed Muse in lyric or epic verse, pleasure and pain will be kings in your city instead of law and the reasoning that the community has always judged best.”
“Very true,” he said. 607b
The ancient quarrel
Socrates notes the ancient quarrel between philosophy and poetry and invites poetry to defend itself.
ταῦτα δή, ἔφην, ἀπολελογήσθω ἡμῖν ἀναμνησθεῖσιν περὶ ποιήσεως, ὅτι εἰκότως ἄρα τότε αὐτὴν ἐκ τῆς πόλεως ἀπεστέλλομεν τοιαύτην οὖσαν· ὁ γὰρ λόγος ἡμᾶς ᾕρει. προσείπωμεν δὲ αὐτῇ, μὴ καί τινα σκληρότητα ἡμῶν καὶ ἀγροικίαν καταγνῷ, ὅτι παλαιὰ μέν τις διαφορὰ φιλοσοφίᾳ τε καὶ ποιητικῇ· καὶ γὰρ ἡ λακέρυζα πρὸς δεσπόταν κύων ἐκείνη κραυγάζουσα καὶ μέγας ἐν ἀφρόνων κενεαγορίαισι 607c καὶ ὁ τῶν διασόφων ὄχλος κρατῶν καὶ οἱ λεπτῶς μεριμνῶντες, ὅτι ἄρα πένονται, καὶ ἄλλα μυρία σημεῖα παλαιᾶς ἐναντιώσεως τούτων. ὅμως δὲ εἰρήσθω ὅτι ἡμεῖς γε, εἴ τινα ἔχοι λόγον εἰπεῖν ἡ πρὸς ἡδονὴν ποιητικὴ καὶ ἡ μίμησις, ὡς χρὴ αὐτὴν εἶναι ἐν πόλει εὐνομουμένῃ, ἅσμενοι ἂν καταδεχοίμεθα, ὡς σύνισμέν γε ἡμῖν αὐτοῖς κηλουμένοις ὑπʼ αὐτῆς· ἀλλὰ γὰρ τὸ δοκοῦν ἀληθὲς οὐχ ὅσιον προδιδόναι.
“Let that be our defense, then,” I said, “now that we’ve come back to the subject of poetry: that we had good reason, back then, to send it out of the city, being what it is. The argument compelled us. And let’s tell it further, so that it doesn’t convict us of harshness and boorishness, that there’s an ancient quarrel between philosophy and poetry. There’s ‘the yelping dog that bays at its master,’ and ‘great in the empty chatter of fools,’ 607c and ‘the mob of the overwise that holds sway,’ and ‘the subtle thinkers who are beggars after all,’ and countless other signs of their old opposition. All the same, let it be said that if poetry aimed at pleasure, and imitation, have any argument to offer why they should exist in a well-governed city, we’d be glad to take them back, since we’re well aware of being charmed by it ourselves. But it isn’t right to betray what seems to be true.
ἦ γάρ, ὦ φίλε, οὐ κηλῇ ὑπʼ αὐτῆς 607d καὶ σύ, καὶ μάλιστα ὅταν διʼ Ὁμήρου θεωρῇς αὐτήν;
“Aren’t you charmed by it too, my friend, 607d especially when you view it through Homer?”
πολύ γε.
οὐκοῦν δικαία ἐστὶν οὕτω κατιέναι, ἀπολογησαμένη ἐν μέλει ἤ τινι ἄλλῳ μέτρῳ;
πάνυ μὲν οὖν.
δοῖμεν δέ γέ που ἂν καὶ τοῖς προστάταις αὐτῆς, ὅσοι μὴ ποιητικοί, φιλοποιηταὶ δέ, ἄνευ μέτρου λόγον ὑπὲρ αὐτῆς εἰπεῖν, ὡς οὐ μόνον ἡδεῖα ἀλλὰ καὶ ὠφελίμη πρὸς τὰς πολιτείας καὶ τὸν βίον τὸν ἀνθρώπινόν ἐστιν· καὶ εὐμενῶς ἀκουσόμεθα. 607e κερδανοῦμεν γάρ που ἐὰν μὴ μόνον ἡδεῖα φανῇ ἀλλὰ καὶ ὠφελίμη.
πῶς δʼ οὐ μέλλομεν, ἔφη, κερδαίνειν;
“Very much.”
“Then isn’t it right for it to come back on these terms, once it has made its defense in lyric or some other meter?”
“Certainly.”
“And we’d surely also let its champions who aren’t poets themselves, but lovers of poetry, speak on its behalf in prose, and show that it’s not only pleasant but also beneficial to constitutions and to human life. We’ll listen kindly. 607e We’ll gain, surely, if it turns out to be not only pleasant but beneficial.”
“How could we not gain?” he said.
εἰ δέ γε μή, ὦ φίλε ἑταῖρε, ὥσπερ οἱ ποτέ του ἐρασθέντες, ἐὰν ἡγήσωνται μὴ ὠφέλιμον εἶναι τὸν ἔρωτα, βίᾳ μέν, ὅμως δὲ ἀπέχονται, καὶ ἡμεῖς οὕτως, διὰ τὸν ἐγγεγονότα μὲν ἔρωτα τῆς τοιαύτης ποιήσεως ὑπὸ τῆς τῶν καλῶν πολιτειῶν 608a τροφῆς, εὖνοι μὲν ἐσόμεθα φανῆναι αὐτὴν ὡς βελτίστην καὶ ἀληθεστάτην, ἕως δʼ ἂν μὴ οἵα τʼ ᾖ ἀπολογήσασθαι, ἀκροασόμεθʼ αὐτῆς ἐπᾴδοντες ἡμῖν αὐτοῖς τοῦτον τὸν λόγον, ὃν λέγομεν, καὶ ταύτην τὴν ἐπῳδήν, εὐλαβούμενοι πάλιν ἐμπεσεῖν εἰς τὸν παιδικόν τε καὶ τὸν τῶν πολλῶν ἔρωτα. ᾀσόμεθα δʼ οὖν ὡς οὐ σπουδαστέον ἐπὶ τῇ τοιαύτῃ ποιήσει ὡς ἀληθείας τε ἁπτομένῃ καὶ σπουδαίᾳ, ἀλλʼ εὐλαβητέον 608b αὐτὴν ὂν τῷ ἀκροωμένῳ, περὶ τῆς ἐν αὑτῷ πολιτείας δεδιότι, καὶ νομιστέα ἅπερ εἰρήκαμεν περὶ ποιήσεως.
“But if not, my dear friend, then we’ll be like people who’ve once fallen in love with someone and, if they decide the love isn’t beneficial, keep away from it, by force but keep away all the same. Because of the love for such poetry bred in us by our upbringing in 608a fine constitutions, we’ll be glad for it to prove as good and as true as possible. But as long as it can’t make its defense, we’ll listen to it while chanting this argument of ours to ourselves as a counter-charm, taking care not to fall back into the childish love that most people have. So we’ll chant that such poetry mustn’t be taken seriously, as though it grasped the truth and were a serious thing; the listener should be on guard 608b against it, fearing for the constitution within himself, and should hold to what we’ve said about poetry.”
παντάπασιν, ἦ δʼ ὅς, σύμφημι.
μέγας γάρ, ἔφην, ὁ ἀγών, ὦ φίλε Γλαύκων, μέγας, οὐχ ὅσος δοκεῖ, τὸ χρηστὸν ἢ κακὸν γενέσθαι, ὥστε οὔτε τιμῇ ἐπαρθέντα οὔτε χρήμασιν οὔτε ἀρχῇ οὐδεμιᾷ οὐδέ γε ποιητικῇ ἄξιον ἀμελῆσαι δικαιοσύνης τε καὶ τῆς ἄλλης ἀρετῆς.
σύμφημί σοι, ἔφη, ἐξ ὧν διεληλύθαμεν· οἶμαι δὲ καὶ ἄλλον ὁντινοῦν. 608c
καὶ μήν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, τά γε μέγιστα ἐπίχειρα ἀρετῆς καὶ προκείμενα ἆθλα οὐ διεληλύθαμεν.
ἀμήχανόν τι, ἔφη, λέγεις μέγεθος, εἰ τῶν εἰρημένων μείζω ἐστὶν ἄλλα.
“I agree completely,” he said.
“Yes,” I said, “for the contest is great, my dear Glaucon, great—greater than it seems—the contest over becoming good or bad. So it isn’t worth being carried away by honor or money or any office, or by poetry either, into neglecting justice and the rest of excellence.”
“I agree with you,” he said, “from what we’ve gone through; and I think anyone else would too.” 608c
“And yet,” I said, “we haven’t gone through the greatest rewards of excellence, the prizes set out for it.”
“You’re talking about something of extraordinary size,” he said, “if there are others greater than those we’ve mentioned.”
The immortality of the soul
Socrates argues the soul is immortal because its own evil, injustice, cannot destroy it.
τί δʼ ἄν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ἔν γε ὀλίγῳ χρόνῳ μέγα γένοιτο; πᾶς γὰρ οὗτός γε ὁ ἐκ παιδὸς μέχρι πρεσβύτου χρόνος πρὸς πάντα ὀλίγος πού τις ἂν εἴη.
οὐδὲν μὲν οὖν, ἔφη.
τί οὖν; οἴει ἀθανάτῳ πράγματι ὑπὲρ τοσούτου δεῖν 608d χρόνου ἐσπουδακέναι, ἀλλʼ οὐχ ὑπὲρ τοῦ παντός;
οἶμαι ἔγωγʼ, ἔφη· ἀλλὰ τί τοῦτο λέγεις;
οὐκ ᾔσθησαι, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ὅτι ἀθάνατος ἡμῶν ἡ ψυχὴ καὶ οὐδέποτε ἀπόλλυται;
καὶ ὃς ἐμβλέψας μοι καὶ θαυμάσας εἶπε· μὰ Δίʼ, οὐκ ἔγωγε· σὺ δὲ τοῦτʼ ἔχεις λέγειν;
“What could be great in a short time?” I said. “This whole span from childhood to old age would surely be short compared with all time.”
“It’s nothing at all,” he said.
“Well then? Do you think an immortal thing should be concerned with so short a 608d time, and not with all time?”
“I do,” he said. “But what are you getting at?”
“Haven’t you realized,” I said, “that our soul is immortal and never perishes?”
He looked at me in amazement and said, “No, by Zeus, I haven’t. Can you really argue that?”
εἰ μὴ ἀδικῶ γʼ, ἔφην. οἶμαι δὲ καὶ σύ· οὐδὲν γὰρ χαλεπόν.
ἔμοιγʼ, ἔφη· σοῦ δʼ ἂν ἡδέως ἀκούσαιμι τὸ οὐ χαλεπὸν τοῦτο.
ἀκούοις ἄν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ.
λέγε μόνον, ἔφη.
ἀγαθόν τι, εἶπον, καὶ κακὸν καλεῖς;
ἔγωγε. 608e
ἆρʼ οὖν ὥσπερ ἐγὼ περὶ αὐτῶν διανοῇ;
τὸ ποῖον;
τὸ μὲν ἀπολλύον καὶ διαφθεῖρον πᾶν τὸ κακὸν εἶναι, τὸ δὲ σῷζον καὶ ὠφελοῦν τὸ ἀγαθόν.
ἔγωγʼ, ἔφη.
“I’d be doing wrong if I couldn’t,” I said. “And I think you could too. There’s nothing difficult about it.”
“There is for me,” he said. “But I’d be glad to hear this not-difficult thing from you.”
“Then listen,” I said.
“Just go ahead,” he said.
“You call some things good and some bad?” I said.
“I do.” 608e
“Do you think about them the way I do?”
“What way?”
“That what destroys and corrupts is always the bad, and what preserves and benefits is the good.”
“I do,” he said.
τί δέ; κακὸν ἑκάστῳ τι καὶ ἀγαθὸν λέγεις; οἷον ὀφθαλμοῖς 609a ὀφθαλμίαν καὶ σύμπαντι τῷ σώματι νόσον, σίτῳ τε ἐρυσίβην, σηπεδόνα τε ξύλοις, χαλκῷ δὲ καὶ σιδήρῳ ἰόν, καί, ὅπερ λέγω, σχεδὸν πᾶσι σύμφυτον ἑκάστῳ κακόν τε καὶ νόσημα;
ἔγωγʼ, ἔφη.
οὐκοῦν ὅταν τῴ τι τούτων προσγένηται, πονηρόν τε ποιεῖ ᾧ προσεγένετο, καὶ τελευτῶν ὅλον διέλυσεν καὶ ἀπώλεσεν;
πῶς γὰρ οὔ;
“And what about this? Do you say there’s something bad and something good for each thing? For example, for the eyes 609a eye disease, for the whole body sickness, for grain blight, rot for wood, rust for bronze and iron—and, as I say, for nearly everything an evil and disease of its own that belongs to its nature?”
“I do,” he said.
“And when one of these attaches itself to something, doesn’t it make the thing it attaches to bad, and in the end dissolve and destroy it completely?”
“Of course.”
τὸ σύμφυτον ἄρα κακὸν ἑκάστου καὶ ἡ πονηρία ἕκαστον ἀπόλλυσιν, ἢ εἰ μὴ τοῦτο ἀπολεῖ, οὐκ ἂν ἄλλο γε αὐτὸ ἔτι 609b διαφθείρειεν. οὐ γὰρ τό γε ἀγαθὸν μή ποτέ τι ἀπολέσῃ, οὐδὲ αὖ τὸ μήτε κακὸν μήτε ἀγαθόν.
πῶς γὰρ ἄν; ἔφη.
ἐὰν ἄρα τι εὑρίσκωμεν τῶν ὄντων, ᾧ ἔστι μὲν κακὸν ὃ ποιεῖ αὐτὸ μοχθηρόν, τοῦτο μέντοι οὐχ οἷόν τε αὐτὸ λύειν ἀπολλύον, οὐκ ἤδη εἰσόμεθα ὅτι τοῦ πεφυκότος οὕτως ὄλεθρος οὐκ ἦν;
οὕτως, ἔφη, εἰκός.
“So each thing is destroyed by its own innate evil and badness; or if that doesn’t destroy it, nothing else could 609b corrupt it. For the good would never destroy anything, nor would what is neither bad nor good.”
“How could they?” he said.
“So if we find something that has an evil that makes it bad, but which can’t dissolve and destroy it, won’t we know at once that a thing of that nature can’t be destroyed?”
“That seems likely,” he said.
τί οὖν; ἦν δʼ ἐγώ· ψυχῇ ἆρʼ οὐκ ἔστιν ὃ ποιεῖ αὐτὴν αὐτὴν κακήν;
καὶ μάλα, ἔφη· ἃ νυνδὴ διῇμεν πάντα, ἀδικία τε καὶ 609c ἀκολασία καὶ δειλία καὶ ἀμαθία.
“Well then,” I said, “isn’t there something that makes the soul bad?”
“Very much so,” he said. “All the things we were just going through: injustice, 609c intemperance, cowardice and ignorance.”
ἦ οὖν τι τούτων αὐτὴν διαλύει τε καὶ ἀπόλλυσι; καὶ ἐννόει μὴ ἐξαπατηθῶμεν οἰηθέντες τὸν ἄδικον ἄνθρωπον καὶ ἀνόητον, ὅταν ληφθῇ ἀδικῶν, τότε ἀπολωλέναι ὑπὸ τῆς ἀδικίας, πονηρίας οὔσης ψυχῆς. ἀλλʼ ὧδε ποίει· ὥσπερ σῶμα ἡ σώματος πονηρία νόσος οὖσα τήκει καὶ διόλλυσι καὶ ἄγει εἰς τὸ μηδὲ σῶμα εἶναι, καὶ ἃ νυνδὴ ἐλέγομεν 609d ἅπαντα ὑπὸ τῆς οἰκείας κακίας, τῷ προσκαθῆσθαι καὶ ἐνεῖναι διαφθειρούσης, εἰς τὸ μὴ εἶναι ἀφικνεῖται—οὐχ οὕτω;
ναί.
“Then does any of these dissolve and destroy it? And be careful that we’re not deceived into thinking that when an unjust and foolish person is caught doing wrong, he has been destroyed by injustice, since injustice is the soul’s badness. Look at it this way instead. Just as the body’s badness, which is disease, wastes and ruins a body and brings it to the point of not being a body at all, so all the things we were just talking about 609d arrive at not being through their own evil, which attaches itself to them, settles in them and corrupts them. Isn’t that so?”
“Yes.”
ἴθι δή, καὶ ψυχὴν κατὰ τὸν αὐτὸν τρόπον σκόπει. ἆρα ἐνοῦσα ἐν αὐτῇ ἀδικία καὶ ἡ ἄλλη κακία τῷ ἐνεῖναι καὶ προσκαθῆσθαι φθείρει αὐτὴν καὶ μαραίνει, ἕως ἂν εἰς θάνατον ἀγαγοῦσα τοῦ σώματος χωρίσῃ;
οὐδαμῶς, ἔφη, τοῦτό γε.
ἀλλὰ μέντοι ἐκεῖνό γε ἄλογον, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, τὴν μὲν ἄλλου πονηρίαν ἀπολλύναι τι, τὴν δὲ αὑτοῦ μή.
ἄλογον. 609e
“Come on, then, and consider the soul in the same way. Do the injustice and other badness present in it, by being present and attaching themselves, corrupt it and make it waste away until they bring it to death and separate it from the body?”
“Not at all,” he said.
“And yet it’s unreasonable,” I said, “that the badness of something else should destroy a thing, while its own badness doesn’t.”
“It’s unreasonable.” 609e
ἐννόει γάρ, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ὦ Γλαύκων, ὅτι οὐδʼ ὑπὸ τῆς τῶν σιτίων πονηρίας, ἣ ἂν ᾖ αὐτῶν ἐκείνων, εἴτε παλαιότης εἴτε σαπρότης εἴτε ἡτισοῦν οὖσα, οὐκ οἰόμεθα δεῖν σῶμα ἀπόλλυσθαι·
ἀλλʼ ἐὰν μὲν ἐμποιῇ ἡ αὐτῶν πονηρία τῶν σιτίων τῷ σώματι σώματος μοχθηρίαν, φήσομεν αὐτὸ διʼ ἐκεῖνα ὑπὸ τῆς αὑτοῦ κακίας νόσου οὔσης ἀπολωλέναι· ὑπὸ 610a δὲ σιτίων πονηρίας ἄλλων ὄντων ἄλλο ὂν τὸ σῶμα, ὑπʼ ἀλλοτρίου κακοῦ μὴ ἐμποιήσαντος τὸ ἔμφυτον κακόν, οὐδέποτε ἀξιώσομεν διαφθείρεσθαι.
ὀρθότατʼ αὖ, ἔφη, λέγεις.
“Consider, Glaucon,” I said, “that we don’t think a body should be destroyed by the badness of foods either, whatever badness belongs to the foods themselves, whether staleness or rottenness or anything else.
“But if the badness of the foods themselves produces in the body a badness of the body, we’ll say that, by way of them, the body was destroyed by its own evil, which is disease. But 610a we’ll never accept that the body, which is one thing, is destroyed by the badness of foods, which are another—by an alien evil that has not produced in it the evil that belongs to it.”
“Again, you’re quite right,” he said.
κατὰ τὸν αὐτὸν τοίνυν λόγον, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ἐὰν μὴ σώματος πονηρία ψυχῇ ψυχῆς πονηρίαν ἐμποιῇ, μή ποτε ἀξιῶμεν ὑπὸ ἀλλοτρίου κακοῦ ἄνευ τῆς ἰδίας πονηρίας ψυχὴν ἀπόλλυσθαι, τῷ ἑτέρου κακῷ ἕτερον.
ἔχει γάρ, ἔφη, λόγον.
“By the same argument, then,” I said, “unless a badness of the body produces in the soul a badness of the soul, let’s never accept that the soul is destroyed by an alien evil without its own particular badness, one thing by the evil of another.”
“That makes sense,” he said.
ἢ τοίνυν ταῦτα ἐξελέγξωμεν ὅτι οὐ καλῶς λέγομεν, ἢ 610b ἕως ἂν ᾖ ἀνέλεγκτα, μή ποτε φῶμεν ὑπὸ πυρετοῦ μηδʼ αὖ ὑπʼ ἄλλης νόσου μηδʼ αὖ ὑπὸ σφαγῆς, μηδʼ εἴ τις ὅτι σμικρότατα ὅλον τὸ σῶμα κατατέμοι, ἕνεκα τούτων μηδὲν μᾶλλόν ποτε ψυχὴν ἀπόλλυσθαι, πρὶν ἄν τις ἀποδείξῃ ὡς διὰ ταῦτα τὰ παθήματα τοῦ σώματος αὐτὴ ἐκείνη ἀδικωτέρα καὶ ἀνοσιωτέρα γίγνεται· ἀλλοτρίου δὲ κακοῦ ἐν ἄλλῳ γιγνομένου, τοῦ δὲ ἰδίου ἑκάστῳ μὴ ἐγγιγνομένου, 610c μήτε ψυχὴν μήτε ἄλλο μηδὲν ἐῶμεν φάναι τινὰ ἀπόλλυσθαι.
“So either let’s refute these claims and show we’re wrong, or, 610b as long as they stand unrefuted, let’s never say that the soul is ever any the more destroyed by fever or any other disease, or by having one’s throat cut, not even if someone chops the whole body into the tiniest pieces—not until someone shows that because of these things happening to the body the soul itself becomes more unjust and more unholy. When an alien evil arises in something else, but the evil that belongs to each thing doesn’t arise in it, 610c let’s not allow anyone to say that the soul or anything else is destroyed.”
ἀλλὰ μέντοι, ἔφη, τοῦτό γε οὐδείς ποτε δείξει, ὡς τῶν ἀποθνῃσκόντων ἀδικώτεραι αἱ ψυχαὶ διὰ τὸν θάνατον γίγνονται.
“But certainly,” he said, “no one will ever show that the souls of the dying become more unjust because of death.”
ἐὰν δέ γέ τις, ἔφην ἐγώ, ὁμόσε τῷ λόγῳ τολμᾷ ἰέναι καὶ λέγειν ὡς πονηρότερος καὶ ἀδικώτερος γίγνεται ὁ ἀποθνῄσκων, ἵνα δὴ μὴ ἀναγκάζηται ἀθανάτους τὰς ψυχὰς ὁμολογεῖν, ἀξιώσομέν που, εἰ ἀληθῆ λέγει ὁ ταῦτα λέγων, τὴν ἀδικίαν εἶναι θανάσιμον τῷ ἔχοντι ὥσπερ νόσον, καὶ ὑπʼ 610d αὐτοῦ, τοῦ ἀποκτεινύντος τῇ ἑαυτοῦ φύσει, ἀποθνῄσκειν τοὺς λαμβάνοντας αὐτό, τοὺς μὲν μάλιστα θᾶττον, τοὺς δʼ ἧττον σχολαίτερον, ἀλλὰ μὴ ὥσπερ νῦν διὰ τοῦτο ὑπʼ ἄλλων δίκην ἐπιτιθέντων ἀποθνῄσκουσιν οἱ ἄδικοι.
“But if someone,” I said, “dares to come to grips with the argument and say that a dying man does become worse and more unjust, so as to avoid being forced to admit that souls are immortal, we’ll surely claim, if what he says is true, that injustice is fatal to whoever has it, like a disease, and that those who catch it die of 610d it, since it kills by its own nature—those who have most of it more quickly, those who have less more slowly. It wouldn’t be as it is now, when the unjust die because of it at the hands of others who punish them.”
μὰ Δίʼ, ἦ δʼ ὅς, οὐκ ἄρα πάνδεινον φανεῖται ἡ ἀδικία, εἰ θανάσιμον ἔσται τῷ λαμβάνοντι—ἀπαλλαγὴ γὰρ ἂν εἴη κακῶν—ἀλλὰ μᾶλλον οἶμαι αὐτὴν φανήσεσθαι πᾶν τοὐναντίον 610e τοὺς ἄλλους ἀποκτεινῦσαν, εἴπερ οἷόν τε, τὸν δʼ ἔχοντα καὶ μάλα ζωτικὸν παρέχουσαν, καὶ πρός γʼ ἔτι τῷ ζωτικῷ ἄγρυπνον· οὕτω πόρρω που, ὡς ἔοικεν, ἐσκήνηται τοῦ θανάσιμος εἶναι.
“By Zeus,” he said, “then injustice won’t look so very terrible after all, if it’s going to be fatal to whoever catches it—it would be a release from troubles. No, I think it’ll turn out to be quite the opposite: 610e it kills others, if it can, while making its possessor very much alive—and not only alive but wide awake. That’s how far, it seems, it has pitched its tent from being fatal.”
καλῶς, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, λέγεις. ὁπότε γὰρ δὴ μὴ ἱκανὴ ἥ γε οἰκεία πονηρία καὶ τὸ οἰκεῖον κακὸν ἀποκτεῖναι καὶ ἀπολέσαι ψυχήν, σχολῇ τό γε ἐπʼ ἄλλου ὀλέθρῳ τεταγμένον κακὸν ψυχὴν ἤ τι ἄλλο ἀπολεῖ, πλὴν ἐφʼ ᾧ τέτακται.
σχολῇ γʼ, ἔφη, ὥς γε τὸ εἰκός.
οὐκοῦν ὁπότε μηδʼ ὑφʼ ἑνὸς ἀπόλλυται κακοῦ, μήτε 611a οἰκείου μήτε ἀλλοτρίου, δῆλον ὅτι ἀνάγκη αὐτὸ ἀεὶ ὂν εἶναι· εἰ δʼ ἀεὶ ὄν, ἀθάνατον.
ἀνάγκη, ἔφη.
“You’re right,” I said. “For when a thing’s own badness, its own evil, isn’t enough to kill and destroy the soul, an evil appointed for the destruction of something else will hardly destroy the soul or anything else, except what it’s appointed for.”
“Hardly,” he said, “as seems likely.”
“So since it isn’t destroyed by any evil at all, 611a whether its own or alien, clearly it must always be. And if it always is, it’s immortal.”
“Necessarily,” he said.
τοῦτο μὲν τοίνυν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, οὕτως ἐχέτω· εἰ δʼ ἔχει, ἐννοεῖς ὅτι ἀεὶ ἂν εἶεν αἱ αὐταί. οὔτε γὰρ ἄν που ἐλάττους γένοιντο μηδεμιᾶς ἀπολλυμένης, οὔτε αὖ πλείους· εἰ γὰρ ὁτιοῦν τῶν ἀθανάτων πλέον γίγνοιτο, οἶσθʼ ὅτι ἐκ τοῦ θνητοῦ ἂν γίγνοιτο καὶ πάντα ἂν εἴη τελευτῶντα ἀθάνατα.
ἀληθῆ λέγεις.
ἀλλʼ, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, μήτε τοῦτο οἰώμεθα—ὁ γὰρ λόγος οὐκ 611b ἐάσει—μήτε γε αὖ τῇ ἀληθεστάτῃ φύσει τοιοῦτον εἶναι ψυχήν, ὥστε πολλῆς ποικιλίας καὶ ἀνομοιότητός τε καὶ διαφορᾶς γέμειν αὐτὸ πρὸς αὑτό.
πῶς λέγεις; ἔφη.
“Let that be so, then,” I said. “And if it is, you realize that the souls would always be the same ones. They couldn’t become fewer, since none is destroyed, nor again more numerous. For if any immortal thing were to increase, you know it would come from the mortal, and everything would end up immortal.”
“That’s true.”
“But,” I said, “let’s not believe that—the argument won’t 611b allow it—nor again that in its truest nature the soul is the sort of thing that’s full of much variety, unlikeness and difference within itself.”
“What do you mean?” he said.
οὐ ῥᾴδιον, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ἀίδιον εἶναι σύνθετόν τε ἐκ πολλῶν καὶ μὴ τῇ καλλίστῃ κεχρημένον συνθέσει, ὡς νῦν ἡμῖν ἐφάνη ἡ ψυχή.
οὔκουν εἰκός γε.
“It isn’t easy,” I said, “for something to be everlasting if it’s composed of many parts and not put together in the finest way, as the soul appeared to us just now.”
“No, it isn’t likely.”
ὅτι μὲν τοίνυν ἀθάνατον ψυχή, καὶ ὁ ἄρτι λόγος καὶ οἱ ἄλλοι ἀναγκάσειαν ἄν· οἷον δʼ ἐστὶν τῇ ἀληθείᾳ, οὐ λελωβημένον 611c δεῖ αὐτὸ θεάσασθαι ὑπό τε τῆς τοῦ σώματος κοινωνίας καὶ ἄλλων κακῶν, ὥσπερ νῦν ἡμεῖς θεώμεθα, ἀλλʼ οἷόν ἐστιν καθαρὸν γιγνόμενον, τοιοῦτον ἱκανῶς λογισμῷ διαθεατέον, καὶ πολύ γε κάλλιον αὐτὸ εὑρήσει καὶ ἐναργέστερον δικαιοσύνας τε καὶ ἀδικίας διόψεται καὶ πάντα ἃ νῦν διήλθομεν.
“Well, that the soul is immortal, both our recent argument and the others would compel us to accept. But to see what it is really like, we mustn’t look at it maimed, 611c as we do now, by its partnership with the body and by other evils. We must study it adequately, with reasoning, as it is when it becomes pure. Then one will find it far more beautiful, and will make out more clearly justice and injustice and everything we’ve now gone through.
νῦν δὲ εἴπομεν μὲν ἀληθῆ περὶ αὐτοῦ, οἷον ἐν τῷ παρόντι φαίνεται· τεθεάμεθα μέντοι διακείμενον αὐτό, ὥσπερ οἱ τὸν 611d θαλάττιον Γλαῦκον ὁρῶντες οὐκ ἂν ἔτι ῥᾳδίως αὐτοῦ ἴδοιεν τὴν ἀρχαίαν φύσιν, ὑπὸ τοῦ τά τε παλαιὰ τοῦ σώματος μέρη τὰ μὲν ἐκκεκλάσθαι, τὰ δὲ συντετρῖφθαι καὶ πάντως λελωβῆσθαι ὑπὸ τῶν κυμάτων, ἄλλα δὲ προσπεφυκέναι, ὄστρεά τε καὶ φυκία καὶ πέτρας, ὥστε παντὶ μᾶλλον θηρίῳ ἐοικέναι ἢ οἷος ἦν φύσει, οὕτω καὶ τὴν ψυχὴν ἡμεῖς θεώμεθα διακειμένην ὑπὸ μυρίων κακῶν. ἀλλὰ δεῖ, ὦ Γλαύκων, ἐκεῖσε βλέπειν.
“What we’ve said about it is true of how it appears at present. But we’ve seen it in a condition like that of the 611d sea-god Glaucus. Those who see him can no longer easily make out his original nature, because some of the old parts of his body have been broken off, others crushed and completely maimed by the waves, while other things have grown onto him—shells, seaweed and rocks—so that he looks more like any beast than what he was by nature. That’s the condition we see the soul in too, beset by countless evils. But we have to look over there, Glaucon.”
ποῖ; ἦ δʼ ὅς. 611e
εἰς τὴν φιλοσοφίαν αὐτῆς, καὶ ἐννοεῖν ὧν ἅπτεται καὶ οἵων ἐφίεται ὁμιλιῶν, ὡς συγγενὴς οὖσα τῷ τε θείῳ καὶ ἀθανάτῳ καὶ τῷ ἀεὶ ὄντι, καὶ οἵα ἂν γένοιτο τῷ τοιούτῳ πᾶσα ἐπισπομένη καὶ ὑπὸ ταύτης τῆς ὁρμῆς ἐκκομισθεῖσα ἐκ τοῦ πόντου ἐν ᾧ νῦν ἐστίν, καὶ περικρουσθεῖσα πέτρας 612a τε καὶ ὄστρεα ἃ νῦν αὐτῇ, ἅτε γῆν ἑστιωμένῃ, γεηρὰ καὶ πετρώδη πολλὰ καὶ ἄγρια περιπέφυκεν ὑπὸ τῶν εὐδαιμόνων λεγομένων ἑστιάσεων.
“Where?” he said. 611e
“At its love of wisdom. We have to consider what it grasps and what company it longs for, since it’s akin to the divine and immortal and to what always is; and what it would become if it followed that wholly and were carried by this impulse out of the sea it’s in now, and had the rocks 612a and shells knocked off it—all that earthy, rocky, wild growth that now encrusts it because it feasts on earth, at those banquets people call happy.
καὶ τότʼ ἄν τις ἴδοι αὐτῆς τὴν ἀληθῆ φύσιν, εἴτε πολυειδὴς εἴτε μονοειδής, εἴτε ὅπῃ ἔχει καὶ ὅπως· νῦν δὲ τὰ ἐν τῷ ἀνθρωπίνῳ βίῳ πάθη τε καὶ εἴδη, ὡς ἐγᾦμαι, ἐπιεικῶς αὐτῆς διεληλύθαμεν.
παντάπασι μὲν οὖν, ἔφη.
“Then one could see its true nature, whether it has many forms or one, or in what way it is and how. But for now, I think, we’ve given a fair account of what it undergoes and the forms it takes in human life.”
“Absolutely,” he said.
οὐκοῦν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, τά τε ἄλλα ἀπελυσάμεθα ἐν τῷ λόγῳ, 612b καὶ οὐ τοὺς μισθοὺς οὐδὲ τὰς δόξας δικαιοσύνης ἐπῃνέκαμεν, ὥσπερ Ἡσίοδόν τε καὶ Ὅμηρον ὑμεῖς ἔφατε, ἀλλʼ αὐτὸ δικαιοσύνην αὐτῇ ψυχῇ ἄριστον ηὕρομεν, καὶ ποιητέον εἶναι αὐτῇ τὰ δίκαια, ἐάντʼ ἔχῃ τὸν Γύγου δακτύλιον, ἐάντε μή, καὶ πρὸς τοιούτῳ δακτυλίῳ τὴν Ἄιδος κυνῆν;
ἀληθέστατα, ἔφη, λέγεις.
“Well,” I said, “haven’t we cleared away the other objections in our argument, 612b without praising the rewards and reputations of justice, as you said Hesiod and Homer do? We’ve found that justice itself is the best thing for the soul itself, and that the soul must do what is just whether it has the ring of Gyges or not, and the cap of Hades on top of such a ring.”
“Very true,” he said.
The rewards of justice
Socrates restores to justice the rewards it earns from gods and humans during life.
ἆρʼ οὖν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ὦ Γλαύκων, νῦν ἤδη ἀνεπίφθονόν ἐστιν πρὸς ἐκείνοις καὶ τοὺς μισθοὺς τῇ δικαιοσύνῃ καὶ τῇ 612c ἄλλῃ ἀρετῇ ἀποδοῦναι, ὅσους τε καὶ οἵους τῇ ψυχῇ παρέχει παρʼ ἀνθρώπων τε καὶ θεῶν, ζῶντός τε ἔτι τοῦ ἀνθρώπου καὶ ἐπειδὰν τελευτήσῃ;
παντάπασι μὲν οὖν, ἦ δʼ ὅς.
ἆρʼ οὖν ἀποδώσετέ μοι ἃ ἐδανείσασθε ἐν τῷ λόγῳ;
τί μάλιστα;
“Then, Glaucon,” I said, “surely no one can now object if, in addition to those, we also give back to justice and the rest 612c of excellence their rewards, as many and as great as they provide for the soul from human beings and gods, both while a person is still alive and after he has died?”
“Absolutely,” he said.
“Then will you give me back what you borrowed in the argument?”
“What exactly?”
ἔδωκα ὑμῖν τὸν δίκαιον δοκεῖν ἄδικον εἶναι καὶ τὸν ἄδικον δίκαιον· ὑμεῖς γὰρ ᾐτεῖσθε, κἂν εἰ μὴ δυνατὸν εἴη ταῦτα λανθάνειν καὶ θεοὺς καὶ ἀνθρώπους, ὅμως δοτέον εἶναι τοῦ λόγου ἕνεκα, ἵνα αὐτὴ δικαιοσύνη πρὸς ἀδικίαν αὐτὴν 612d κριθείη. ἢ οὐ μνημονεύεις;
ἀδικοίην μεντἄν, ἔφη, εἰ μή.
“I granted you that the just man should seem unjust and the unjust man just. You asked for it: even if it wasn’t possible for these things to escape the notice of gods and men, still it had to be granted for the sake of the argument, so that justice itself could be judged against injustice itself. 612d Or don’t you remember?”
“I’d be doing wrong,” he said, “if I didn’t.”
ἐπειδὴ τοίνυν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, κεκριμέναι εἰσί, πάλιν ἀπαιτῶ ὑπὲρ δικαιοσύνης, ὥσπερ ἔχει δόξης καὶ παρὰ θεῶν καὶ παρʼ ἀνθρώπων, καὶ ἡμᾶς ὁμολογεῖν περὶ αὐτῆς δοκεῖσθαι οὕτω, ἵνα καὶ τὰ νικητήρια κομίσηται, ἀπὸ τοῦ δοκεῖν κτωμένη ἃ δίδωσι τοῖς ἔχουσιν αὐτήν, ἐπειδὴ καὶ τὰ ἀπὸ τοῦ εἶναι ἀγαθὰ διδοῦσα ἐφάνη καὶ οὐκ ἐξαπατῶσα τοὺς τῷ ὄντι λαμβάνοντας αὐτήν. 612e
δίκαια, ἔφη, αἰτῇ.
οὐκοῦν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, πρῶτον μὲν τοῦτο ἀποδώσετε, ὅτι θεούς γε οὐ λανθάνει ἑκάτερος αὐτῶν οἷός ἐστιν;
ἀποδώσομεν, ἔφη.
“Well, since they’ve been judged,” I said, “I ask for it back on behalf of justice: that we too agree that she is regarded by gods and men as she actually is, so that she can also carry off the prizes of victory, which she gains from seeming and gives to those who have her. After all, she has been shown to give the good things that come from being just, and not to deceive those who truly take hold of her.” 612e
“What you ask is just,” he said.
“Then first,” I said, “will you give back this: that the gods, at least, aren’t deceived about what each of the two men is really like?”
“We will,” he said.
εἰ δὲ μὴ λανθάνετον, ὁ μὲν θεοφιλὴς ἂν εἴη, ὁ δὲ θεομισής, ὥσπερ καὶ κατʼ ἀρχὰς ὡμολογοῦμεν.
ἔστι ταῦτα.
τῷ δὲ θεοφιλεῖ οὐχ ὁμολογήσομεν, ὅσα γε ἀπὸ θεῶν 613a γίγνεται, πάντα γίγνεσθαι ὡς οἷόν τε ἄριστα, εἰ μή τι ἀναγκαῖον αὐτῷ κακὸν ἐκ προτέρας ἁμαρτίας ὑπῆρχεν;
πάνυ μὲν οὖν.
“And if they aren’t deceived, one would be loved by the gods and the other hated, as we agreed at the beginning.”
“That’s so.”
“And won’t we agree that for the one the gods love, everything that comes from the gods 613a comes in the best possible way, unless some unavoidable evil was his from an earlier wrong?”
“Certainly.”
οὕτως ἄρα ὑποληπτέον περὶ τοῦ δικαίου ἀνδρός, ἐάντʼ ἐν πενίᾳ γίγνηται ἐάντʼ ἐν νόσοις ἤ τινι ἄλλῳ τῶν δοκούντων κακῶν, ὡς τούτῳ ταῦτα εἰς ἀγαθόν τι τελευτήσει ζῶντι ἢ καὶ ἀποθανόντι. οὐ γὰρ δὴ ὑπό γε θεῶν ποτε ἀμελεῖται ὃς ἂν προθυμεῖσθαι ἐθέλῃ δίκαιος γίγνεσθαι καὶ ἐπιτηδεύων 613b ἀρετὴν εἰς ὅσον δυνατὸν ἀνθρώπῳ ὁμοιοῦσθαι θεῷ.
εἰκός γʼ, ἔφη, τὸν τοιοῦτον μὴ ἀμελεῖσθαι ὑπὸ τοῦ ὁμοίου.
οὐκοῦν περὶ τοῦ ἀδίκου τἀναντία τούτων δεῖ διανοεῖσθαι;
σφόδρα γε.
τὰ μὲν δὴ παρὰ θεῶν τοιαῦτʼ ἄττʼ ἂν εἴη νικητήρια τῷ δικαίῳ.
“So this is how we must think of the just man: whether he falls into poverty or illness or any other of the things that seem bad, it will end in something good for him, in life or even in death. For the gods never neglect anyone who is eager to become just and, by practicing 613b excellence, to become as like a god as a human being can.”
“It’s likely,” he said, “that a man like that isn’t neglected by the one he resembles.”
“And mustn’t we think the opposite of all this about the unjust man?”
“Very much so.”
“Such, then, would be the prizes of victory that the just man receives from the gods.”
τί δέ, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, παρʼ ἀνθρώπων; ἆρʼ οὐχ ὧδε ἔχει, εἰ δεῖ τὸ ὂν τιθέναι; οὐχ οἱ μὲν δεινοί τε καὶ ἄδικοι δρῶσιν ὅπερ οἱ δρομῆς ὅσοι ἂν θέωσιν εὖ ἀπὸ τῶν κάτω, ἀπὸ δὲ τῶν ἄνω μή; τὸ μὲν πρῶτον ὀξέως ἀποπηδῶσιν, τελευτῶντες 613c δὲ καταγέλαστοι γίγνονται, τὰ ὦτα ἐπὶ τῶν ὤμων ἔχοντες καὶ ἀστεφάνωτοι ἀποτρέχοντες· οἱ δὲ τῇ ἀληθείᾳ δρομικοὶ εἰς τέλος ἐλθόντες τά τε ἆθλα λαμβάνουσιν καὶ στεφανοῦνται. οὐχ οὕτω καὶ περὶ τῶν δικαίων τὸ πολὺ συμβαίνει; πρὸς τὸ τέλος ἑκάστης πράξεως καὶ ὁμιλίας καὶ τοῦ βίου εὐδοκιμοῦσί τε καὶ τὰ ἆθλα παρὰ τῶν ἀνθρώπων φέρονται;
“And what about the rewards from human beings?” I said. “Isn’t this how things are, if we’re to state the truth? Don’t clever but unjust people do just what runners do who run the outward leg well but not the return? They spring off sharply at first, but by the end 613c they’re a laughingstock, trotting off uncrowned with their ears drooping onto their shoulders. But real runners reach the finish, take the prizes and are crowned. Isn’t it generally the same with just people too? Toward the end of each undertaking, each association, and of life itself, they earn a good name and carry off the prizes from their fellow human beings.”
ἀνέξῃ ἄρα λέγοντος ἐμοῦ περὶ τούτων ἅπερ αὐτὸς ἔλεγες 613d περὶ τῶν ἀδίκων; ἐρῶ γὰρ δὴ ὅτι οἱ μὲν δίκαιοι, ἐπειδὰν πρεσβύτεροι γένωνται, ἐν τῇ αὑτῶν πόλει ἄρχουσί τε ἂν βούλωνται τὰς ἀρχάς, γαμοῦσί τε ὁπόθεν ἂν βούλωνται, ἐκδιδόασί τε εἰς οὓς ἂν ἐθέλωσι· καὶ πάντα ἃ σὺ περὶ ἐκείνων, ἐγὼ νῦν λέγω περὶ τῶνδε. καὶ αὖ καὶ περὶ τῶν ἀδίκων, ὅτι οἱ πολλοὶ αὐτῶν, καὶ ἐὰν νέοι ὄντες λάθωσιν, ἐπὶ τέλους τοῦ δρόμου αἱρεθέντες καταγέλαστοί εἰσιν καὶ γέροντες γιγνόμενοι ἄθλιοι προπηλακίζονται ὑπὸ ξένων τε 613e καὶ ἀστῶν, μαστιγούμενοι καὶ ἃ ἄγροικα ἔφησθα σὺ εἶναι, ἀληθῆ λέγων—εἶτα στρεβλώσονται καὶ ἐκκαυθήσονται— πάντα ἐκεῖνα οἴου καὶ ἐμοῦ ἀκηκοέναι ὡς πάσχουσιν. ἀλλʼ ὃ λέγω, ὅρα εἰ ἀνέξῃ.
“Then will you put up with my saying about them what you yourself said 613d about the unjust? For I’m going to say that the just, once they’re older, hold office in their own city if they want to, marry from whatever family they want, and give their children in marriage to whomever they please. Everything you said about those others, I now say about these. And about the unjust, in turn, I’ll say that most of them, even if they escape notice while they’re young, are caught at the end of the race and made a laughingstock; and as they grow old they’re wretched and abused by foreigners 613e and citizens alike. They’re whipped, and suffer the things you called crude—and you were right—then they’ll be racked and burned. Imagine you’ve heard me say that they suffer all of that. But see whether you’ll put up with what I’m saying.”
καὶ πάνυ, ἔφη· δίκαια γὰρ λέγεις.
ἃ μὲν τοίνυν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, ζῶντι τῷ δικαίῳ παρὰ θεῶν τε 614a καὶ ἀνθρώπων ἆθλά τε καὶ μισθοὶ καὶ δῶρα γίγνεται πρὸς ἐκείνοις τοῖς ἀγαθοῖς οἷς αὐτὴ παρείχετο ἡ δικαιοσύνη, τοιαῦτʼ ἂν εἴη.
καὶ μάλʼ, ἔφη, καλά τε καὶ βέβαια.
ταῦτα τοίνυν, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, οὐδέν ἐστι πλήθει οὐδὲ μεγέθει πρὸς ἐκεῖνα ἃ τελευτήσαντα ἑκάτερον περιμένει· χρὴ δʼ αὐτὰ ἀκοῦσαι, ἵνα τελέως ἑκάτερος αὐτῶν ἀπειλήφῃ τὰ ὑπὸ τοῦ λόγου ὀφειλόμενα ἀκοῦσαι. 614b
“Certainly,” he said. “What you say is just.”
“Then these,” I said, “would be the prizes, wages, and gifts that come to the just man while he’s alive, from gods 614a and human beings, in addition to those good things that justice itself provided.”
“And fine and secure ones they are,” he said.
“Yet these are nothing,” I said, “in number or in size, compared with what awaits each of the two after death. We should hear about those, so that each of them may receive in full the hearing the argument owes him.” 614b
λέγοις ἄν, ἔφη, ὡς οὐ πολλὰ ἄλλʼ ἥδιον ἀκούοντι.
“Please tell us,” he said. “There aren’t many things I’d rather hear.”
The myth of Er
Socrates tells of Er, who returns from death to describe judgment, the choice of lives and rebirth.
ἀλλʼ οὐ μέντοι σοι, ἦν δʼ ἐγώ, Ἀλκίνου γε ἀπόλογον ἐρῶ, ἀλλʼ ἀλκίμου μὲν ἀνδρός, Ἠρὸς τοῦ Ἀρμενίου, τὸ γένος Παμφύλου· ὅς ποτε ἐν πολέμῳ τελευτήσας, ἀναιρεθέντων δεκαταίων τῶν νεκρῶν ἤδη διεφθαρμένων, ὑγιὴς μὲν ἀνῃρέθη, κομισθεὶς δʼ οἴκαδε μέλλων θάπτεσθαι δωδεκαταῖος ἐπὶ τῇ πυρᾷ κείμενος ἀνεβίω, ἀναβιοὺς δʼ ἔλεγεν ἃ ἐκεῖ ἴδοι. ἔφη δέ, ἐπειδὴ οὗ ἐκβῆναι, τὴν ψυχὴν πορεύεσθαι 614c μετὰ πολλῶν, καὶ ἀφικνεῖσθαι σφᾶς εἰς τόπον τινὰ δαιμόνιον, ἐν ᾧ τῆς τε γῆς δύʼ εἶναι χάσματα ἐχομένω ἀλλήλοιν καὶ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ αὖ ἐν τῷ ἄνω ἄλλα καταντικρύ.
Well, it isn’t a tale for Alcinous that I’ll tell you, I said, but the tale of a stalwart man: Er, son of Armenius, a Pamphylian by birth. He was once killed in war. When the dead were taken up on the tenth day, already decaying, he was taken up intact; and he was brought home to be buried, and on the twelfth day, as he lay on the pyre, he came back to life. Once revived, he told what he had seen there. He said that when his soul had gone out of him, it traveled 614c with many others, and they came to an uncanny place, where there were two openings in the earth next to each other, and two more in the heaven above, facing them.
δικαστὰς δὲ μεταξὺ τούτων καθῆσθαι, οὕς, ἐπειδὴ διαδικάσειαν, τοὺς μὲν δικαίους κελεύειν πορεύεσθαι τὴν εἰς δεξιάν τε καὶ ἄνω διὰ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ, σημεῖα περιάψαντας τῶν δεδικασμένων ἐν τῷ πρόσθεν, τοὺς δὲ ἀδίκους τὴν εἰς ἀριστεράν τε καὶ κάτω, ἔχοντας καὶ τούτους ἐν τῷ ὄπισθεν σημεῖα πάντων ὧν 614d ἔπραξαν. ἑαυτοῦ δὲ προσελθόντος εἰπεῖν ὅτι δέοι αὐτὸν ἄγγελον ἀνθρώποις γενέσθαι τῶν ἐκεῖ καὶ διακελεύοιντό οἱ ἀκούειν τε καὶ θεᾶσθαι πάντα τὰ ἐν τῷ τόπῳ. ὁρᾶν δὴ ταύτῃ μὲν καθʼ ἑκάτερον τὸ χάσμα τοῦ οὐρανοῦ τε καὶ τῆς γῆς ἀπιούσας τὰς ψυχάς, ἐπειδὴ αὐταῖς δικασθείη, κατὰ δὲ τὼ ἑτέρω ἐκ μὲν τοῦ ἀνιέναι ἐκ τῆς γῆς μεστὰς αὐχμοῦ τε καὶ κόνεως, ἐκ δὲ τοῦ ἑτέρου καταβαίνειν ἑτέρας ἐκ τοῦ 614e οὐρανοῦ καθαράς.
Between these sat judges. Whenever they had given their verdict, they ordered the just to take the road to the right and upward through the heaven, with tokens of the judgments fastened on their fronts, and the unjust to take the road to the left and downward, these too wearing on their backs tokens of everything they 614d had done. When he himself came forward, they told him that he was to be a messenger to human beings about what was there, and they instructed him to listen to and watch everything in the place. So he saw, on this side, souls departing through one opening of heaven and one of earth, once they had been judged; and at the other two, souls coming up out of the earth full of grime and dust, and other souls coming down out of 614e heaven, clean.
καὶ τὰς ἀεὶ ἀφικνουμένας ὥσπερ ἐκ πολλῆς πορείας φαίνεσθαι ἥκειν, καὶ ἁσμένας εἰς τὸν λειμῶνα ἀπιούσας οἷον ἐν πανηγύρει κατασκηνᾶσθαι, καὶ ἀσπάζεσθαί τε ἀλλήλας ὅσαι γνώριμαι, καὶ πυνθάνεσθαι τάς τε ἐκ τῆς γῆς ἡκούσας παρὰ τῶν ἑτέρων τὰ ἐκεῖ καὶ τὰς ἐκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ τὰ παρʼ ἐκείναις.
The souls that kept arriving looked as if they had come from a long journey. They went off gladly to the meadow and camped there as if at a festival. Those who knew each other exchanged greetings, and the ones who had come from the earth asked the others about things up there, while the ones from heaven asked about what had happened to them.
διηγεῖσθαι δὲ ἀλλήλαις τὰς 615a μὲν ὀδυρομένας τε καὶ κλαούσας, ἀναμιμνῃσκομένας ὅσα τε καὶ οἷα πάθοιεν καὶ ἴδοιεν ἐν τῇ ὑπὸ γῆς πορείᾳ—εἶναι δὲ τὴν πορείαν χιλιέτη—τὰς δʼ αὖ ἐκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ εὐπαθείας διηγεῖσθαι καὶ θέας ἀμηχάνους τὸ κάλλος.
They told each other their stories, the one group 615a grieving and weeping as they recalled how many things, and what kinds, they had suffered and seen on their journey under the earth—the journey lasted a thousand years—while those from heaven, in turn, told of delights and of sights of unimaginable beauty.
τὰ μὲν οὖν πολλά, ὦ Γλαύκων, πολλοῦ χρόνου διηγήσασθαι· τὸ δʼ οὖν κεφάλαιον ἔφη τόδε εἶναι, ὅσα πώποτέ τινα ἠδίκησαν καὶ ὅσους ἕκαστοι, ὑπὲρ ἁπάντων δίκην δεδωκέναι ἐν μέρει, ὑπὲρ ἑκάστου δεκάκις—τοῦτο δʼ εἶναι κατὰ ἑκατονταετηρίδα 615b ἑκάστην, ὡς βίου ὄντος τοσούτου τοῦ ἀνθρωπίνου—ἵνα δεκαπλάσιον τὸ ἔκτεισμα τοῦ ἀδικήματος ἐκτίνοιεν, καὶ οἷον εἴ τινες πολλοῖς θανάτων ἦσαν αἴτιοι, ἢ πόλεις προδόντες ἢ στρατόπεδα, καὶ εἰς δουλείας ἐμβεβληκότες ἤ τινος ἄλλης κακουχίας μεταίτιοι, πάντων τούτων δεκαπλασίας ἀλγηδόνας ὑπὲρ ἑκάστου κομίσαιντο, καὶ αὖ εἴ τινας εὐεργεσίας εὐεργετηκότες καὶ δίκαιοι καὶ ὅσιοι γεγονότες εἶεν, κατὰ ταὐτὰ 615c τὴν ἀξίαν κομίζοιντο. τῶν δὲ εὐθὺς γενομένων καὶ ὀλίγον χρόνον βιούντων πέρι ἄλλα ἔλεγεν οὐκ ἄξια μνήμης.
To tell it all, Glaucon, would take a long time. But the sum of it, he said, was this. For all the wrongs they had ever done anyone, and for every person each had wronged, they had paid the penalty for them all in turn, ten times over for each. That is, once every hundred 615b years, since that is the length of a human life, so that they might pay back ten times the crime. For example, if some had caused many deaths, by betraying cities or armies, or had thrown people into slavery or shared the blame for some other ill-treatment, they received ten times the pain for each of these. And again, if they had done good deeds and had been just and pious, they received their due reward 615c in the same proportion. About those who died as soon as they were born, or lived only a short time, he said other things not worth recording.
εἰς δὲ θεοὺς ἀσεβείας τε καὶ εὐσεβείας καὶ γονέας καὶ αὐτόχειρος φόνου μείζους ἔτι τοὺς μισθοὺς διηγεῖτο.
For impiety and piety toward gods and parents, and for murder by one’s own hand, he described still greater repayments.
ἔφη γὰρ δὴ παραγενέσθαι ἐρωτωμένῳ ἑτέρῳ ὑπὸ ἑτέρου ὅπου εἴη Ἀρδιαῖος ὁ μέγας. ὁ δὲ Ἀρδιαῖος οὗτος τῆς Παμφυλίας ἔν τινι πόλει τύραννος ἐγεγόνει, ἤδη χιλιοστὸν ἔτος εἰς ἐκεῖνον τὸν χρόνον, γέροντά τε πατέρα ἀποκτείνας 615d καὶ πρεσβύτερον ἀδελφόν, καὶ ἄλλα δὴ πολλά τε καὶ ἀνόσια εἰργασμένος, ὡς ἐλέγετο. ἔφη οὖν τὸν ἐρωτώμενον εἰπεῖν, “οὐχ ἥκει,” φάναι, “οὐδʼ ἂν ἥξει δεῦρο. ἐθεασάμεθα γὰρ οὖν δὴ καὶ τοῦτο τῶν δεινῶν θεαμάτων· ἐπειδὴ ἐγγὺς τοῦ στομίου ἦμεν μέλλοντες ἀνιέναι καὶ τἆλλα πάντα πεπονθότες, ἐκεῖνόν τε κατείδομεν ἐξαίφνης καὶ ἄλλους—σχεδόν τι αὐτῶν τοὺς πλείστους τυράννους· ἦσαν δὲ καὶ ἰδιῶταί τινες τῶν 615e μεγάλα ἡμαρτηκότων—οὓς οἰομένους ἤδη ἀναβήσεσθαι οὐκ ἐδέχετο τὸ στόμιον, ἀλλʼ ἐμυκᾶτο ὁπότε τις τῶν οὕτως ἀνιάτως ἐχόντων εἰς πονηρίαν ἢ μὴ ἱκανῶς δεδωκὼς δίκην ἐπιχειροῖ ἀνιέναι.”
He said he was there when one soul asked another where Ardiaeus the Great was. This Ardiaeus had been tyrant of some city in Pamphylia a thousand years before that time. He had killed his aged father 615d and his elder brother, and had committed many other unholy acts besides, so it was said. The one who was asked, he said, replied: “He hasn’t come, and he never will come here. This too was one of the terrible sights we saw. When we were near the mouth, about to go up, having gone through everything else, we suddenly caught sight of him and others—most of them, pretty well, were tyrants, though there were also some private individuals who had 615e committed great crimes. They thought they were about to go up, but the mouth wouldn’t admit them; it bellowed whenever one of those who were so incurably bad, or who hadn’t paid a sufficient penalty, tried to go up.
“ἐνταῦθα δὴ ἄνδρες, ἔφη, ἄγριοι, διάπυροι ἰδεῖν, παρεστῶτες καὶ καταμανθάνοντες τὸ φθέγμα, τοὺς μὲν διαλαβόντες ἦγον, τὸν δὲ Ἀρδιαῖον καὶ ἄλλους συμποδίσαντες 616a χεῖράς τε καὶ πόδας καὶ κεφαλήν, καταβαλόντες καὶ ἐκδείραντες, εἷλκον παρὰ τὴν ὁδὸν ἐκτὸς ἐπʼ ἀσπαλάθων κνάμπτοντες, καὶ τοῖς ἀεὶ παριοῦσι σημαίνοντες ὧν ἕνεκά τε καὶ ὅτι εἰς τὸν Τάρταρον ἐμπεσούμενοι ἄγοιντο.” ἔνθα δὴ φόβων, ἔφη, πολλῶν καὶ παντοδαπῶν σφίσι γεγονότων, τοῦτον ὑπερβάλλειν, μὴ γένοιτο ἑκάστῳ τὸ φθέγμα ὅτε ἀναβαίνοι, καὶ ἁσμενέστατα ἕκαστον σιγήσαντος ἀναβῆναι. καὶ τὰς μὲν δὴ δίκας τε καὶ τιμωρίας τοιαύτας τινὰς 616b εἶναι, καὶ αὖ τὰς εὐεργεσίας ταύταις ἀντιστρόφους.
“At that point,” he said, “some savage men, fiery to look at, who were standing by and understood the sound, seized some of them and led them off. But Ardiaeus and others they bound 616a hand and foot and head, threw them down and flayed them, and dragged them off the road, carding them on thorn bushes, and explaining to each group that passed by why they were being taken away, and that they were going to be thrown into Tartarus.” There, he said, of the many fears of every kind they had felt, this one surpassed them all: that the sound might come for each of them as he went up; and each went up most gladly when it stayed silent. Such, then, were the judgments and punishments, 616b and the rewards were their counterparts.
ἐπειδὴ δὲ τοῖς ἐν τῷ λειμῶνι ἑκάστοις ἑπτὰ ἡμέραι γένοιντο, ἀναστάντας ἐντεῦθεν δεῖν τῇ ὀγδόῃ πορεύεσθαι, καὶ ἀφικνεῖσθαι τεταρταίους ὅθεν καθορᾶν ἄνωθεν διὰ παντὸς τοῦ οὐρανοῦ καὶ γῆς τεταμένον φῶς εὐθύ, οἷον κίονα, μάλιστα τῇ ἴριδι προσφερῆ, λαμπρότερον δὲ καὶ καθαρώτερον· εἰς ὃ ἀφικέσθαι προελθόντες ἡμερησίαν ὁδόν, καὶ ἰδεῖν αὐτόθι κατὰ 616c μέσον τὸ φῶς ἐκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ τὰ ἄκρα αὐτοῦ τῶν δεσμῶν τεταμένα—εἶναι γὰρ τοῦτο τὸ φῶς σύνδεσμον τοῦ οὐρανοῦ, οἷον τὰ ὑποζώματα τῶν τριήρων, οὕτω πᾶσαν συνέχον τὴν περιφοράν—ἐκ δὲ τῶν ἄκρων τεταμένον ἀνάγκης ἄτρακτον, διʼ οὗ πάσας ἐπιστρέφεσθαι τὰς περιφοράς· οὗ τὴν μὲν ἠλακάτην τε καὶ τὸ ἄγκιστρον εἶναι ἐξ ἀδάμαντος, τὸν δὲ σφόνδυλον μεικτὸν ἔκ τε τούτου καὶ ἄλλων γενῶν.
When each group had spent seven days in the meadow, they had to get up and move on on the eighth, and on the fourth day they came to a place from which they could see, from above, a straight light stretched through the whole of heaven and earth, like a column, most like the rainbow, but brighter and purer. They reached it after going on another day’s journey, and there, at 616c the middle of the light, they saw the ends of its bonds stretched from heaven—for this light was what bound heaven together, holding the whole revolving vault together like the undergirding ropes of triremes. And from the ends was stretched the spindle of Necessity, by which all the revolutions are turned. Its shaft and its hook were of adamant, and its whorl was a blend of this and other kinds of material.
τὴν δὲ 616d τοῦ σφονδύλου φύσιν εἶναι τοιάνδε· τὸ μὲν σχῆμα οἵαπερ ἡ τοῦ ἐνθάδε, νοῆσαι δὲ δεῖ ἐξ ὧν ἔλεγεν τοιόνδε αὐτὸν εἶναι, ὥσπερ ἂν εἰ ἐν ἑνὶ μεγάλῳ σφονδύλῳ κοίλῳ καὶ ἐξεγλυμμένῳ διαμπερὲς ἄλλος τοιοῦτος ἐλάττων ἐγκέοιτο ἁρμόττων, καθάπερ οἱ κάδοι οἱ εἰς ἀλλήλους ἁρμόττοντες, καὶ οὕτω δὴ τρίτον ἄλλον καὶ τέταρτον καὶ ἄλλους τέτταρας. ὀκτὼ γὰρ εἶναι τοὺς σύμπαντας σφονδύλους, ἐν ἀλλήλοις ἐγκειμένους, 616e κύκλους ἄνωθεν τὰ χείλη φαίνοντας, νῶτον συνεχὲς ἑνὸς σφονδύλου ἀπεργαζομένους περὶ τὴν ἠλακάτην· ἐκείνην δὲ διὰ μέσου τοῦ ὀγδόου διαμπερὲς ἐληλάσθαι.
The 616d nature of the whorl was this. Its shape was like the ones here, but from what he said we must picture it like this: as if inside one large whorl, hollowed out right through, there lay another smaller one of the same kind, fitting into it, the way nesting pots fit into one another; and so on with a third and a fourth and four more. For there were eight whorls in all, set inside one another, 616e showing their rims as circles from above and forming the continuous back of a single whorl around the shaft; and the shaft was driven right through the middle of the eighth.
τὸν μὲν οὖν πρῶτόν τε καὶ ἐξωτάτω σφόνδυλον πλατύτατον τὸν τοῦ χείλους κύκλον ἔχειν, τὸν δὲ τοῦ ἕκτου δεύτερον, τρίτον δὲ τὸν τοῦ τετάρτου, τέταρτον δὲ τὸν τοῦ ὀγδόου, πέμπτον δὲ τὸν τοῦ ἑβδόμου, ἕκτον δὲ τὸν τοῦ πέμπτου, ἕβδομον δὲ τὸν τοῦ τρίτου, ὄγδοον δὲ τὸν τοῦ δευτέρου.
The first and outermost whorl had the widest circular rim; the sixth’s was second; the fourth’s third; the eighth’s fourth; the seventh’s fifth; the fifth’s sixth; the third’s seventh; and the second’s eighth.
καὶ τὸν μὲν τοῦ μεγίστου ποικίλον, τὸν δὲ τοῦ ἑβδόμου λαμπρότατον, τὸν δὲ 617a τοῦ ὀγδόου τὸ χρῶμα ἀπὸ τοῦ ἑβδόμου ἔχειν προσλάμποντος, τὸν δὲ τοῦ δευτέρου καὶ πέμπτου παραπλήσια ἀλλήλοις, ξανθότερα ἐκείνων, τρίτον δὲ λευκότατον χρῶμα ἔχειν, τέταρτον δὲ ὑπέρυθρον, δεύτερον δὲ λευκότητι τὸν ἕκτον. κυκλεῖσθαι δὲ δὴ στρεφόμενον τὸν ἄτρακτον ὅλον μὲν τὴν αὐτὴν φοράν, ἐν δὲ τῷ ὅλῳ περιφερομένῳ τοὺς μὲν ἐντὸς ἑπτὰ κύκλους τὴν ἐναντίαν τῷ ὅλῳ ἠρέμα περιφέρεσθαι, αὐτῶν δὲ τούτων τάχιστα μὲν ἰέναι τὸν ὄγδοον, δευτέρους δὲ καὶ ἅμα 617b ἀλλήλοις τόν τε ἕβδομον καὶ ἕκτον καὶ πέμπτον· τὸν τρίτον δὲ φορᾷ ἰέναι, ὡς σφίσι φαίνεσθαι, ἐπανακυκλούμενον τὸν τέταρτον, τέταρτον δὲ τὸν τρίτον καὶ πέμπτον τὸν δεύτερον. στρέφεσθαι δὲ αὐτὸν ἐν τοῖς τῆς ἀνάγκης γόνασιν.
The rim of the largest was spangled; that of the seventh was brightest; that of 617a the eighth took its color from the seventh shining on it; those of the second and fifth were like each other, yellower than those; the third had the whitest color; the fourth was reddish; and the sixth was second in whiteness. The spindle as a whole turned around with a single motion, but within the whole as it revolved, the seven inner circles revolved slowly in the opposite direction to the whole. Of these the eighth went fastest; second, and together 617b with one another, came the seventh, sixth and fifth; third in speed, as it appeared to them, the fourth went with its counter-revolution; fourth was the third, and fifth the second. And the spindle turned on the knees of Necessity.
ἐπὶ δὲ τῶν κύκλων αὐτοῦ ἄνωθεν ἐφʼ ἑκάστου βεβηκέναι Σειρῆνα συμπεριφερομένην, φωνὴν μίαν ἱεῖσαν, ἕνα τόνον· ἐκ πασῶν δὲ ὀκτὼ οὐσῶν μίαν ἁρμονίαν συμφωνεῖν. ἄλλας δὲ καθημένας 617c πέριξ διʼ ἴσου τρεῖς, ἐν θρόνῳ ἑκάστην, θυγατέρας τῆς ἀνάγκης, Μοίρας, λευχειμονούσας, στέμματα ἐπὶ τῶν κεφαλῶν ἐχούσας, Λάχεσίν τε καὶ Κλωθὼ καὶ Ἄτροπον, ὑμνεῖν πρὸς τὴν τῶν Σειρήνων ἁρμονίαν, Λάχεσιν μὲν τὰ γεγονότα, Κλωθὼ δὲ τὰ ὄντα, Ἄτροπον δὲ τὰ μέλλοντα. καὶ τὴν μὲν Κλωθὼ τῇ δεξιᾷ χειρὶ ἐφαπτομένην συνεπιστρέφειν τοῦ ἀτράκτου τὴν ἔξω περιφοράν, διαλείπουσαν χρόνον, τὴν δὲ Ἄτροπον τῇ ἀριστερᾷ τὰς ἐντὸς αὖ ὡσαύτως· τὴν δὲ Λάχεσιν 617d ἐν μέρει ἑκατέρας ἑκατέρᾳ τῇ χειρὶ ἐφάπτεσθαι. σφᾶς οὖν, ἐπειδὴ ἀφικέσθαι, εὐθὺς δεῖν ἰέναι πρὸς τὴν Λάχεσιν.
On top of each of its circles, up above, stood a Siren, carried around with it and uttering a single sound, a single note; and from all eight together there sounded a single harmony. Three others sat around it, 617c at equal distances, each on a throne: the daughters of Necessity, the Fates, dressed in white, with garlands on their heads—Lachesis, Clotho and Atropos—singing to the Sirens’ harmony, Lachesis of what has been, Clotho of what is, and Atropos of what is to be. Clotho, touching the outer revolution of the spindle with her right hand, helped turn it, pausing from time to time; Atropos did the same to the inner ones with her left; and Lachesis 617d touched each in turn with either hand. So when they arrived, they had to go straight to Lachesis.
προφήτην οὖν τινα σφᾶς πρῶτον μὲν ἐν τάξει διαστῆσαι, ἔπειτα λαβόντα ἐκ τῶν τῆς Λαχέσεως γονάτων κλήρους τε καὶ βίων παραδείγματα, ἀναβάντα ἐπί τι βῆμα ὑψηλὸν εἰπεῖν—
A spokesman first arranged them in order; then he took lots and patterns of lives from the knees of Lachesis, climbed up onto a high platform, and said:
“ἀνάγκης θυγατρὸς κόρης Λαχέσεως λόγος. Ψυχαὶ ἐφήμεροι, ἀρχὴ ἄλλης περιόδου θνητοῦ γένους θανατηφόρου. 617e οὐχ ὑμᾶς δαίμων λήξεται, ἀλλʼ ὑμεῖς δαίμονα αἱρήσεσθε. πρῶτος δʼ ὁ λαχὼν πρῶτος αἱρείσθω βίον ᾧ συνέσται ἐξ ἀνάγκης. ἀρετὴ δὲ ἀδέσποτον, ἣν τιμῶν καὶ ἀτιμάζων πλέον καὶ ἔλαττον αὐτῆς ἕκαστος ἕξει. αἰτία ἑλομένου· θεὸς ἀναίτιος.”
ταῦτα εἰπόντα ῥῖψαι ἐπὶ πάντας τοὺς κλήρους, τὸν δὲ παρʼ αὑτὸν πεσόντα ἕκαστον ἀναιρεῖσθαι πλὴν οὗ, ἓ δὲ οὐκ ἐᾶν· τῷ δὲ ἀνελομένῳ δῆλον εἶναι ὁπόστος εἰλήχει.
“This is the word of Lachesis, maiden daughter of Necessity. Souls of a day, here begins another cycle of mortal kind, one that ends in death. 617e No guardian spirit will be allotted to you; you will choose your guardian spirit. Let the one who draws the first lot be first to choose a life, to which he will be bound by necessity. Excellence has no master: each will have more or less of it as he honors or dishonors it. The blame is the chooser’s; god is blameless.”
Having said this, he threw the lots out among them all, and each picked up the one that fell beside him—except Er, whom he didn’t allow to; and whoever picked one up could see what number he had drawn.
μετὰ δὲ τοῦτο αὖθις τὰ τῶν βίων παραδείγματα εἰς τὸ πρόσθεν σφῶν θεῖναι ἐπὶ τὴν γῆν, πολὺ πλείω τῶν παρόντων. εἶναι δὲ παντοδαπά· ζῴων τε γὰρ πάντων βίους καὶ δὴ καὶ τοὺς ἀνθρωπίνους ἅπαντας. τυραννίδας τε γὰρ ἐν αὐτοῖς εἶναι, τὰς μὲν διατελεῖς, τὰς δὲ καὶ μεταξὺ διαφθειρομένας καὶ εἰς πενίας τε καὶ φυγὰς καὶ εἰς πτωχείας τελευτώσας· εἶναι δὲ καὶ δοκίμων ἀνδρῶν βίους, τοὺς μὲν ἐπὶ εἴδεσιν καὶ κατὰ κάλλη καὶ τὴν ἄλλην ἰσχύν 618b τε καὶ ἀγωνίαν, τοὺς δʼ ἐπὶ γένεσιν καὶ προγόνων ἀρεταῖς, καὶ ἀδοκίμων κατὰ ταῦτα, ὡσαύτως δὲ καὶ γυναικῶν.
After this he set the patterns of lives on the ground in front of them, far more of them than there were souls present. They were of every kind: lives of all the animals, and all human lives as well. Among them were tyrannies, some lasting to the end, others collapsing midway and ending in poverty, exile and beggary. There were also lives of men of repute, some for their looks and beauty and for strength 618b and prowess in contests generally, others for their birth and the excellences of their ancestors; and lives of men without repute on these same counts; and likewise lives of women.
ψυχῆς δὲ τάξιν οὐκ ἐνεῖναι διὰ τὸ ἀναγκαίως ἔχειν ἄλλον ἑλομένην βίον ἀλλοίαν γίγνεσθαι· τὰ δʼ ἄλλα ἀλλήλοις τε καὶ πλούτοις καὶ πενίαις, τὰ δὲ νόσοις, τὰ δʼ ὑγιείαις μεμεῖχθαι, τὰ δὲ καὶ μεσοῦν τούτων. ἔνθα δή, ὡς ἔοικεν, ὦ φίλε Γλαύκων, ὁ πᾶς κίνδυνος ἀνθρώπῳ, καὶ διὰ ταῦτα μάλιστα 618c ἐπιμελητέον ὅπως ἕκαστος ἡμῶν τῶν ἄλλων μαθημάτων ἀμελήσας τούτου τοῦ μαθήματος καὶ ζητητὴς καὶ μαθητὴς ἔσται, ἐάν ποθεν οἷός τʼ ᾖ μαθεῖν καὶ ἐξευρεῖν τίς αὐτὸν ποιήσει δυνατὸν καὶ ἐπιστήμονα, βίον καὶ χρηστὸν καὶ πονηρὸν διαγιγνώσκοντα, τὸν βελτίω ἐκ τῶν δυνατῶν ἀεὶ πανταχοῦ αἱρεῖσθαι·
But the ordering of the soul was not included in them, because a soul necessarily becomes different according to the life it chooses. All the other things were mixed with one another and with wealth and poverty, some with sickness, some with health, and some were in between. That, it seems, my dear Glaucon, is where the whole danger lies for a human being; and that’s why each of us must take the utmost 618c care to neglect all other studies and to seek and learn this one, in the hope that he may be able to learn and discover from somewhere who will make him able and knowledgeable enough to tell a good life from a bad one, and always and everywhere to choose the better one among those available.
ἀναλογιζόμενον πάντα τὰ νυνδὴ ῥηθέντα καὶ συντιθέμενα ἀλλήλοις καὶ διαιρούμενα πρὸς ἀρετὴν βίου πῶς ἔχει, εἰδέναι τί κάλλος πενίᾳ ἢ πλούτῳ κραθὲν καὶ 618d μετὰ ποίας τινὸς ψυχῆς ἕξεως κακὸν ἢ ἀγαθὸν ἐργάζεται, καὶ τί εὐγένειαι καὶ δυσγένειαι καὶ ἰδιωτεῖαι καὶ ἀρχαὶ καὶ ἰσχύες καὶ ἀσθένειαι καὶ εὐμαθίαι καὶ δυσμαθίαι καὶ πάντα τὰ τοιαῦτα τῶν φύσει περὶ ψυχὴν ὄντων καὶ τῶν ἐπικτήτων τί συγκεραννύμενα πρὸς ἄλληλα ἐργάζεται, ὥστε ἐξ ἁπάντων αὐτῶν δυνατὸν εἶναι συλλογισάμενον αἱρεῖσθαι, πρὸς τὴν τῆς ψυχῆς φύσιν ἀποβλέποντα, τόν τε χείρω καὶ τὸν ἀμείνω 618e βίον, χείρω μὲν καλοῦντα ὃς αὐτὴν ἐκεῖσε ἄξει, εἰς τὸ ἀδικωτέραν γίγνεσθαι, ἀμείνω δὲ ὅστις εἰς τὸ δικαιοτέραν.
He must take into account all the things we’ve just discussed, both combined with one another and taken separately, and how they bear on the excellence of a life. He must know what beauty mixed with poverty or with wealth does, and 618d with what condition of soul it produces evil or good; and what good birth and low birth, private life and public office, strength and weakness, quickness and slowness at learning, and all such things, both those that belong to the soul by nature and those that are acquired, produce when blended with one another. Then from all of them he will be able to reason out his choice, looking to the nature of the soul, between the worse and the better 618e life, calling worse the one that will lead the soul toward becoming more unjust, and better the one that leads it toward becoming more just.
τὰ δὲ ἄλλα πάντα χαίρειν ἐάσει· ἑωράκαμεν γὰρ ὅτι ζῶντί τε καὶ τελευτήσαντι αὕτη κρατίστη αἵρεσις.
Everything else he will let go. For we have seen that for the living and the dead alike, this is the best choice.
ἀδαμαντίνως δὴ 619a δεῖ ταύτην τὴν δόξαν ἔχοντα εἰς Ἅιδου ἰέναι, ὅπως ἂν ᾖ καὶ ἐκεῖ ἀνέκπληκτος ὑπὸ πλούτων τε καὶ τῶν τοιούτων κακῶν, καὶ μὴ ἐμπεσὼν εἰς τυραννίδας καὶ ἄλλας τοιαύτας πράξεις πολλὰ μὲν ἐργάσηται καὶ ἀνήκεστα κακά, ἔτι δὲ αὐτὸς μείζω πάθῃ, ἀλλὰ γνῷ τὸν μέσον ἀεὶ τῶν τοιούτων βίον αἱρεῖσθαι καὶ φεύγειν τὰ ὑπερβάλλοντα ἑκατέρωσε καὶ ἐν τῷδε τῷ βίῳ κατὰ τὸ δυνατὸν καὶ ἐν παντὶ τῷ ἔπειτα· οὕτω γὰρ 619b εὐδαιμονέστατος γίγνεται ἄνθρωπος.
One must hold this opinion as firmly as adamant 619a when one goes to Hades, so as to be undazzled there too by wealth and such evils; so as not to plunge into tyrannies and other such pursuits, committing many incurable evils and suffering still greater ones oneself; but to know always to choose the life in the middle among such things, and to shun the extremes on either side, both in this life, as far as possible, and in all the life that follows. For that’s how 619b a human being becomes happiest.
καὶ δὴ οὖν καὶ τότε ὁ ἐκεῖθεν ἄγγελος ἤγγελλε τὸν μὲν προφήτην οὕτως εἰπεῖν· “καὶ τελευταίῳ ἐπιόντι, ξὺν νῷ ἑλομένῳ, συντόνως ζῶντι κεῖται βίος ἀγαπητός, οὐ κακός. μήτε ὁ ἄρχων αἱρέσεως ἀμελείτω μήτε ὁ τελευτῶν ἀθυμείτω.”
And so the messenger from that world reported that on that occasion the spokesman spoke as follows: “Even for the one who comes last, if he chooses with understanding and lives with effort, there is laid up a life worth being content with, not a bad one. Let the first to choose not be careless, nor the last lose heart.”
εἰπόντος δὲ ταῦτα τὸν πρῶτον λαχόντα ἔφη εὐθὺς ἐπιόντα τὴν μεγίστην τυραννίδα ἑλέσθαι, καὶ ὑπὸ ἀφροσύνης τε καὶ λαιμαργίας οὐ πάντα ἱκανῶς ἀνασκεψάμενον ἑλέσθαι, ἀλλʼ 619c αὐτὸν λαθεῖν ἐνοῦσαν εἱμαρμένην παίδων αὑτοῦ βρώσεις καὶ ἄλλα κακά· ἐπειδὴ δὲ κατὰ σχολὴν σκέψασθαι, κόπτεσθαί τε καὶ ὀδύρεσθαι τὴν αἵρεσιν, οὐκ ἐμμένοντα τοῖς προρρηθεῖσιν ὑπὸ τοῦ προφήτου· οὐ γὰρ ἑαυτὸν αἰτιᾶσθαι τῶν κακῶν, ἀλλὰ τύχην τε καὶ δαίμονας καὶ πάντα μᾶλλον ἀνθʼ ἑαυτοῦ. εἶναι δὲ αὐτὸν τῶν ἐκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ ἡκόντων, ἐν τεταγμένῃ πολιτείᾳ ἐν τῷ προτέρῳ βίῳ βεβιωκότα, ἔθει 619d ἄνευ φιλοσοφίας ἀρετῆς μετειληφότα.
When he had said this, Er said, the one who had drawn the first lot went straight up and chose the greatest tyranny. Out of folly and greed he chose it without examining everything adequately, and 619c he failed to notice that it held his fate: to eat his own children, and other evils. When he examined it at leisure, he beat his breast and lamented his choice, not abiding by the spokesman’s warning; for he didn’t blame himself for his misfortunes, but chance and guardian spirits and anything rather than himself. He was one of those who had come from heaven, having lived his previous life in a well-ordered constitution, 619d sharing in excellence by habit, without philosophy.
ὡς δὲ καὶ εἰπεῖν, οὐκ ἐλάττους εἶναι ἐν τοῖς τοιούτοις ἁλισκομένους τοὺς ἐκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ ἥκοντας, ἅτε πόνων ἀγυμνάστους· τῶν δʼ ἐκ τῆς γῆς τοὺς πολλούς, ἅτε αὐτούς τε πεπονηκότας ἄλλους τε ἑωρακότας, οὐκ ἐξ ἐπιδρομῆς τὰς αἱρέσεις ποιεῖσθαι. διὸ δὴ καὶ μεταβολὴν τῶν κακῶν καὶ τῶν ἀγαθῶν ταῖς πολλαῖς τῶν ψυχῶν γίγνεσθαι καὶ διὰ τὴν τοῦ κλήρου τύχην· ἐπεὶ εἴ τις ἀεί, ὁπότε εἰς τὸν ἐνθάδε βίον ἀφικνοῖτο, ὑγιῶς φιλοσοφοῖ 619e καὶ ὁ κλῆρος αὐτῷ τῆς αἱρέσεως μὴ ἐν τελευταίοις πίπτοι, κινδυνεύει ἐκ τῶν ἐκεῖθεν ἀπαγγελλομένων οὐ μόνον ἐνθάδε εὐδαιμονεῖν ἄν, ἀλλὰ καὶ τὴν ἐνθένδε ἐκεῖσε καὶ δεῦρο πάλιν πορείαν οὐκ ἂν χθονίαν καὶ τραχεῖαν πορεύεσθαι, ἀλλὰ λείαν τε καὶ οὐρανίαν.
One might even say that those who had come from heaven were not the fewest among those caught out in this way, since they were untrained in hardship. But most of those from the earth, having suffered hardships themselves and seen others suffer, didn’t make their choices in a rush. That is why most of the souls exchanged evil for good and good for evil—and also because of the luck of the lot. For if someone, whenever he came into life here, always pursued philosophy soundly, 619e and his lot for choosing didn’t fall among the last, it seems likely from what was reported from there that he would not only be happy here, but would also travel the road from here to there and back again not underground and rough, but smooth and through the heavens.
ταύτην γὰρ δὴ ἔφη τὴν θέαν ἀξίαν εἶναι ἰδεῖν, ὡς ἕκασται 620a αἱ ψυχαὶ ᾑροῦντο τοὺς βίους· ἐλεινήν τε γὰρ ἰδεῖν εἶναι καὶ γελοίαν καὶ θαυμασίαν. κατὰ συνήθειαν γὰρ τοῦ προτέρου βίου τὰ πολλὰ αἱρεῖσθαι. ἰδεῖν μὲν γὰρ ψυχὴν ἔφη τήν ποτε Ὀρφέως γενομένην κύκνου βίον αἱρουμένην, μίσει τοῦ γυναικείου γένους διὰ τὸν ὑπʼ ἐκείνων θάνατον οὐκ ἐθέλουσαν ἐν γυναικὶ γεννηθεῖσαν γενέσθαι· ἰδεῖν δὲ τὴν Θαμύρου ἀηδόνος ἑλομένην· ἰδεῖν δὲ καὶ κύκνον μεταβάλλοντα εἰς ἀνθρωπίνου βίου αἵρεσιν, καὶ ἄλλα ζῷα μουσικὰ ὡσαύτως. 620b εἰκοστὴν δὲ λαχοῦσαν ψυχὴν ἑλέσθαι λέοντος βίον· εἶναι δὲ τὴν Αἴαντος τοῦ Τελαμωνίου, φεύγουσαν ἄνθρωπον γενέσθαι, μεμνημένην τῆς τῶν ὅπλων κρίσεως. τὴν δʼ ἐπὶ τούτῳ Ἀγαμέμνονος· ἔχθρᾳ δὲ καὶ ταύτην τοῦ ἀνθρωπίνου γένους διὰ τὰ πάθη ἀετοῦ διαλλάξαι βίον.
For this, he said, was a spectacle worth seeing: how each 620a of the souls chose its life. It was pitiful to see, and laughable, and amazing. For the most part they chose according to the habits of their former life. He said he saw the soul that had once been Orpheus’ choosing the life of a swan: out of hatred for womankind, because of the death it had suffered at women’s hands, it didn’t want to be conceived and born of a woman. He saw the soul of Thamyras choosing a nightingale’s life; and he also saw a swan changing over to choose a human life, and other musical animals doing likewise. 620b The soul that drew the twentieth lot chose the life of a lion. It was the soul of Ajax son of Telamon, which shunned becoming a human being, remembering the judgment over the arms. Next came Agamemnon’s; this one too, out of hostility to the human race because of what it had suffered, took an eagle’s life in exchange.
ἐν μέσοις δὲ λαχοῦσαν τὴν Ἀταλάντης ψυχήν, κατιδοῦσαν μεγάλας τιμὰς ἀθλητοῦ ἀνδρός, οὐ δύνασθαι παρελθεῖν, ἀλλὰ λαβεῖν. μετὰ 620c δὲ ταύτην ἰδεῖν τὴν Ἐπειοῦ τοῦ Πανοπέως εἰς τεχνικῆς γυναικὸς ἰοῦσαν φύσιν· πόρρω δʼ ἐν ὑστάτοις ἰδεῖν τὴν τοῦ γελωτοποιοῦ Θερσίτου πίθηκον ἐνδυομένην. κατὰ τύχην δὲ τὴν Ὀδυσσέως λαχοῦσαν πασῶν ὑστάτην αἱρησομένην ἰέναι, μνήμῃ δὲ τῶν προτέρων πόνων φιλοτιμίας λελωφηκυῖαν ζητεῖν περιιοῦσαν χρόνον πολὺν βίον ἀνδρὸς ἰδιώτου ἀπράγμονος, καὶ μόγις εὑρεῖν κείμενόν που καὶ παρημελημένον 620d ὑπὸ τῶν ἄλλων, καὶ εἰπεῖν ἰδοῦσαν ὅτι τὰ αὐτὰ ἂν ἔπραξεν καὶ πρώτη λαχοῦσα, καὶ ἁσμένην ἑλέσθαι. καὶ ἐκ τῶν ἄλλων δὴ θηρίων ὡσαύτως εἰς ἀνθρώπους ἰέναι καὶ εἰς ἄλληλα, τὰ μὲν ἄδικα εἰς τὰ ἄγρια, τὰ δὲ δίκαια εἰς τὰ ἥμερα μεταβάλλοντα, καὶ πάσας μείξεις μείγνυσθαι.
Atalanta’s soul had drawn a lot in the middle, and when it caught sight of the great honors of a male athlete, it couldn’t pass them by, but took them. After 620c her he saw the soul of Epeius son of Panopeus going into the nature of a craftswoman. Far off, among the last, he saw the soul of the clown Thersites putting on an ape. As chance would have it, the soul of Odysseus had drawn the very last lot of all and came up to choose. Remembering its former labors, it had recovered from its love of honor, and it went around for a long time looking for the life of a private man who kept out of affairs. With difficulty it found one lying somewhere, disregarded 620d by the others, and when it saw it, it said it would have done the same even if it had drawn first, and chose it gladly. And from the other beasts, likewise, some went into human beings and into one another, the unjust changing into wild ones and the just into tame ones, and there were mixtures of every kind.
ἐπειδὴ δʼ οὖν πάσας τὰς ψυχὰς τοὺς βίους ᾑρῆσθαι, ὥσπερ ἔλαχον ἐν τάξει προσιέναι πρὸς τὴν Λάχεσιν· ἐκείνην δʼ ἑκάστῳ ὃν εἵλετο δαίμονα, τοῦτον φύλακα συμπέμπειν 620e τοῦ βίου καὶ ἀποπληρωτὴν τῶν αἱρεθέντων. ὃν πρῶτον μὲν ἄγειν αὐτὴν πρὸς τὴν Κλωθὼ ὑπὸ τὴν ἐκείνης χεῖρά τε καὶ ἐπιστροφὴν τῆς τοῦ ἀτράκτου δίνης, κυροῦντα ἣν λαχὼν εἵλετο μοῖραν· ταύτης δʼ ἐφαψάμενον αὖθις ἐπὶ τὴν τῆς Ἀτρόπου ἄγειν νῆσιν, ἀμετάστροφα τὰ ἐπικλωσθέντα ποιοῦντα·
When all the souls had chosen their lives, they went up to Lachesis in the order of their lots. She sent with each the guardian spirit it had chosen, as protector 620e of its life and fulfiller of what it had chosen. This spirit first led the soul to Clotho, under her hand as she turned the whirling spindle, ratifying the fate it had drawn and chosen. After touching her, the spirit led the soul on to Atropos’ spinning, making what had been spun irreversible.
ἐντεῦθεν δὲ δὴ ἀμεταστρεπτὶ ὑπὸ τὸν τῆς 621a ἀνάγκης ἰέναι θρόνον, καὶ διʼ ἐκείνου διεξελθόντα, ἐπειδὴ καὶ οἱ ἄλλοι διῆλθον, πορεύεσθαι ἅπαντας εἰς τὸ τῆς Λήθης πεδίον διὰ καύματός τε καὶ πνίγους δεινοῦ· καὶ γὰρ εἶναι αὐτὸ κενὸν δένδρων τε καὶ ὅσα γῆ φύει. σκηνᾶσθαι οὖν σφᾶς ἤδη ἑσπέρας γιγνομένης παρὰ τὸν Ἀμέλητα ποταμόν, οὗ τὸ ὕδωρ ἀγγεῖον οὐδὲν στέγειν. μέτρον μὲν οὖν τι τοῦ ὕδατος πᾶσιν ἀναγκαῖον εἶναι πιεῖν, τοὺς δὲ φρονήσει μὴ σῳζομένους πλέον πίνειν τοῦ μέτρου· τὸν δὲ ἀεὶ πιόντα 621b πάντων ἐπιλανθάνεσθαι. ἐπειδὴ δὲ κοιμηθῆναι καὶ μέσας νύκτας γενέσθαι, βροντήν τε καὶ σεισμὸν γενέσθαι, καὶ ἐντεῦθεν ἐξαπίνης ἄλλον ἄλλῃ φέρεσθαι ἄνω εἰς τὴν γένεσιν, ᾄττοντας ὥσπερ ἀστέρας.
From there, without turning back, they went under the throne of 621a Necessity. When they had passed through it, and the others had too, they all traveled to the plain of Lethe through terrible, stifling heat; for it was bare of trees and of everything the earth grows. So, as evening was coming on, they camped by the river of Unheeding, whose water no vessel can hold. All of them had to drink a certain measure of the water, and those not saved by understanding drank more than the measure; and each, as he drank, 621b forgot everything. After they had gone to sleep and it was midnight, there was thunder and an earthquake, and suddenly they were carried up from there, one this way, one that, to their birth, shooting like stars.
αὐτὸς δὲ τοῦ μὲν ὕδατος κωλυθῆναι πιεῖν· ὅπῃ μέντοι καὶ ὅπως εἰς τὸ σῶμα ἀφίκοιτο, οὐκ εἰδέναι, ἀλλʼ ἐξαίφνης ἀναβλέψας ἰδεῖν ἕωθεν αὑτὸν κείμενον ἐπὶ τῇ πυρᾷ.
He himself had been prevented from drinking the water. Yet by what path and in what way he came back into his body he didn’t know; but suddenly he opened his eyes and saw himself at dawn, lying on the pyre.
καὶ οὕτως, ὦ Γλαύκων, μῦθος ἐσώθη καὶ οὐκ ἀπώλετο, 621c καὶ ἡμᾶς ἂν σώσειεν, ἂν πειθώμεθα αὐτῷ, καὶ τὸν τῆς Λήθης ποταμὸν εὖ διαβησόμεθα καὶ τὴν ψυχὴν οὐ μιανθησόμεθα. ἀλλʼ ἂν ἐμοὶ πειθώμεθα, νομίζοντες ἀθάνατον ψυχὴν καὶ δυνατὴν πάντα μὲν κακὰ ἀνέχεσθαι, πάντα δὲ ἀγαθά, τῆς ἄνω ὁδοῦ ἀεὶ ἑξόμεθα καὶ δικαιοσύνην μετὰ φρονήσεως παντὶ τρόπῳ ἐπιτηδεύσομεν, ἵνα καὶ ἡμῖν αὐτοῖς φίλοι ὦμεν καὶ τοῖς θεοῖς, αὐτοῦ τε μένοντες ἐνθάδε, καὶ ἐπειδὰν τὰ ἆθλα 621d αὐτῆς κομιζώμεθα, ὥσπερ οἱ νικηφόροι περιαγειρόμενοι, καὶ ἐνθάδε καὶ ἐν τῇ χιλιέτει πορείᾳ, ἣν διεληλύθαμεν, εὖ πράττωμεν.
And so, Glaucon, the tale was saved and not lost, 621c and it could save us too, if we’re persuaded by it; and we’ll cross the river of Lethe safely and not defile our souls. But if we’re persuaded by me, believing that the soul is immortal and able to endure every evil and every good, we’ll always keep to the upward road and pursue justice with understanding in every way, so that we may be friends to ourselves and to the gods, both while we remain here and when we carry off the prizes 621d of justice, like victors going around collecting their winnings; and so that both here and on the thousand-year journey we have described, we may fare well.