mud: and even the shore is not to be compared to the fairer sights of
this world. And greater far is the superiority of the other. Now of that
upper earth which is under the heaven, I can tell you a charming tale,
Simmias, which is well worth hearing.
And we, Socrates, replied Simmias, shall be charmed to listen.
The tale, my friend, he said, is as follows: In the first place, the
earth, when looked at from above, is like one of those balls which have
leather coverings in twelve pieces, and is of divers colors, of which
the colors which painters use on earth are only a sample. But there the
whole earth is made up of them, and they are brighter far and clearer
than ours; there is a purple of wonderful luster, also the radiance of
gold, and the white which is in the earth is whiter than any chalk or
snow. Of these and other colors the earth is made up, and they are more
in number and fairer than the eye of man has ever seen; and the very
hollows (of which I was speaking) filled with air and water are seen
like light flashing amid the other colors, and have a color of their
own, which gives a sort of unity to the variety of earth. And in this
fair region everything that grows -- trees, and flowers, and fruits --
is in a like degree fairer than any here; and there are hills, and
stones in them in a like degree smoother, and more transparent, and
fairer in color than our highly valued emeralds and sardonyxes and
jaspers, and other gems, which are but minute fragments of them: for
there all the stones are like our precious stones, and fairer still. The
reason of this is that they are pure, and not, like our precious stones,
infected or corroded by the corrupt briny elements which coagulate among
us, and which breed foulness and disease both in earth and stones, as
well as in animals and plants. They are the jewels of the upper earth,
which also shines with gold and silver and the like, and they are
visible to sight and large and abundant and found in every region of the
earth, and blessed is he who sees them. And upon the earth are animals
and men, some in a middle region, others dwelling about the air as we
dwell about the sea; others in islands which the air flows round, near
the continent: and in a word, the air is used by them as the water and
the sea are by us, and the ether is to them what the air is to us.
Moreover, the temperament of their seasons is such that they have no
disease, and live much longer than we do, and have sight and hearing and
smell, and all the other senses, in far greater perfection, in the same
degree that air is purer than water or the ether than air. Also they
have temples and sacred places in which the gods really dwell, and they
hear their voices and receive their answers, and are conscious of them
and hold converse with them, and they see the sun, moon, and stars as
they really are, and their other blessedness is of a piece with this.
Such is the nature of the whole earth, and of the things which are
around the earth; and there are divers regions in the hollows on the
face of the globe everywhere, some of them deeper and also wider than
that which we inhabit, others deeper and with a narrower opening than
ours, and some are shallower and wider; all have numerous perforations,
and passages broad and narrow in the interior of the earth, connecting
them with one another; and there flows into and out of them, as into
basins, a vast tide of water, and huge subterranean streams of perennial
rivers, and springs hot and cold, and a great fire, and great rivers of
fire, and streams of liquid mud, thin or thick (like the rivers of mud
in Sicily, and the lava-streams which follow them), and the regions
about which they happen to flow are filled up with them. And there is a
sort of swing in the interior of the earth which moves all this up and
down. Now the swing is in this wise: There is a chasm which is the
vastest of them all, and pierces right through the whole earth; this is
that which Homer describes in the words,
"Far off, where is the inmost depth beneath the earth"; and which he in
other places, and many other poets, have called Tartarus. And the swing
is caused by the streams flowing into and out of this chasm, and they
each have the nature of the soil through which they flow. And the reason
why the streams are always flowing in and out is that the watery element
has no bed or bottom, and is surging and swinging up and down, and the
surrounding wind and air do the same; they follow the water up and down,
hither and thither, over the earth -- just as in respiring the air is
always in process of inhalation and exhalation; and the wind swinging
with the water in and out produces fearful and irresistible blasts: when
the waters retire with a rush into the lower parts of the earth, as they
are called, they flow through the earth into those regions, and fill
them up as with the alternate motion of a pump, and then when they leave
those regions and rush back hither, they again fill the hollows here,
and when these are filled, flow through subterranean channels and find
their way to their several places, forming seas, and lakes, and rivers,
and springs. Thence they again enter the earth, some of them making a
long circuit into many lands, others going to few places and those not
distant, and again fall into Tartarus, some at a point a good deal lower
than that at which they rose, and others not much lower, but all in some
degree lower than the point of issue. And some burst forth again on the
opposite side, and some on the same side, and some wind round the earth
with one or many folds, like the coils of a serpent, and descend as far
as they can, but always return and fall into the lake. The rivers on
either side can descend only to the center and no further, for to the
rivers on both sides the opposite side is a precipice.
Now these rivers are many, and mighty, and diverse, and there are four
principal ones, of which the greatest and outermost is that called
Oceanus, which flows round the earth in a circle; and in the opposite
direction flows Acheron, which passes under the earth through desert
places, into the Acherusian Lake: this is the lake to the shores of
which the souls of the many go when they are dead, and after waiting an
appointed time, which is to some a longer and to some a shorter time,
they are sent back again to be born as animals. The third river rises
between the two, and near the place of rising pours into a vast region
of fire, and forms a lake larger than the Mediterranean Sea, boiling
with water and mud; and proceeding muddy and turbid, and winding about
the earth, comes, among other places, to the extremities of the
Acherusian Lake, but mingles not with the waters of the lake, and after
making many coils about the earth plunges into Tartarus at a deeper
level. This is that Pyriphlegethon, as the stream is called, which
throws up jets of fire in all sorts of places. The fourth river goes out
on the opposite side, and falls first of all into a wild and savage
region, which is all of a dark-blue color, like lapis lazuli; and this
is that river which is called the Stygian River, and falls into and
forms the Lake Styx, and after falling into the lake and receiving
strange powers in the waters, passes under the earth, winding round in
the opposite direction to Pyriphlegethon, and meeting in the Acherusian
Lake from the opposite side. And the water of this river too mingles
with no other, but flows round in a circle and falls into Tartarus over
against Pyriphlegethon, and the name of this river, as the poet says, is
Cocytus.
Such is the name of the other world; and when the dead arrive at the
place to which the genius of each severally conveys them, first of all
they have sentence passed upon them, as they have lived well and piously
or not. And those who appear to have lived neither well nor ill, go to
the river Acheron, and mount such conveyances as they can get, and are
carried in them to the lake, and there they dwell and are purified of
their evil deeds, and suffer the penalty of the wrongs which they have
done to others, and are absolved, and receive the rewards of their good
deeds according to their deserts. But those who appear to be incurable
by reason of the greatness of their crimes -- who have committed many
and terrible deeds of sacrilege, murders foul and violent, or the like
-- such are hurled into Tartarus, which is their suitable destiny, and
they never come out. Those again who have committed crimes, which,
although great, are not unpardonable -- who in a moment of anger, for
example, have done violence to a father or mother, and have repented for
the remainder of their lives, or who have taken the life of another
under like extenuating circumstances -- these are plunged into Tartarus,
the pains of which they are compelled to undergo for a year, but at the
end of the year the wave casts them forth -- mere homicides by way of
Cocytus, parricides and matricides by Pyriphlegethon -- and they are
borne to the Acherusian Lake, and there they lift up their voices and
call upon the victims whom they have slain or wronged, to have pity on
them, and to receive them, and to let them come out of the river into
the lake. And if they prevail, then they come forth and cease from their
troubles; but if not, they are carried back again into Tartarus and from
thence into the rivers unceasingly, until they obtain mercy from those
whom they have wronged: for that is the sentence inflicted upon them by
their judges. Those also who are remarkable for having led holy lives
are released from this earthly prison, and go to their pure home which
is above, and dwell in the purer earth; and those who have duly purified
themselves with philosophy live henceforth altogether without the body,
in mansions fairer far than these, which may not be described, and of
which the time would fail me to tell.
Wherefore, Simmias, seeing all these things, what ought not we to do in
order to obtain virtue and wisdom in this life? Fair is the prize, and
the hope great.
I do not mean to affirm that the description which I have given of the
soul and her mansions is exactly true -- a man of sense ought hardly to
say that. But I do say that, inasmuch as the soul is shown to be
immortal, he may venture to think, not improperly or unworthily, that
something of the kind is true. The venture is a glorious one, and he
ought to comfort himself with words like these, which is the reason why
lengthen out the tale. Wherefore, I say, let a man be of good cheer
about his soul, who has cast away the pleasures and ornaments of the
body as alien to him, and rather hurtful in their effects, and has
followed after the pleasures of knowledge in this life; who has adorned
the soul in her own proper jewels, which are temperance, and justice,
and courage, and nobility, and truth -- in these arrayed she is ready to
go on her journey to the world below, when her time comes. You, Simmias
and Cebes, and all other men, will depart at some time or other. Me
already, as the tragic poet would say, the voice of fate calls. Soon I
must drink the poison; and I think that I had better repair to the bath
first, in order that the women may not have the trouble of washing my
body after I am dead.
When he had done speaking, Crito said: And have you any commands for us,
Socrates -- anything to say about your children, or any other matter in
which we can serve you?
Nothing particular, he said: only, as I have always told you, I would
have you look to yourselves; that is a service which you may always be
doing to me and mine as well as to yourselves. And you need not make
professions; for if you take no thought for yourselves, and walk not
according to the precepts which I have given you, not now for the first
time, the warmth of your professions will be of no avail.
We will do our best, said Crito. But in what way would you have us bury
you?
In any way that you like; only you must get hold of me, and take care
that I do not walk away from you. Then he turned to us, and added with a
smile: I cannot make Crito believe that I am the same Socrates who have
been talking and conducting the argument; he fancies that I am the other
Socrates whom he will soon see, a dead body -- and he asks, How shall he
bury me? And though I have spoken many words in the endeavor to show
that when I have drunk the poison I shall leave you and go to the joys
of the blessed -- these words of mine, with which I comforted you and
myself, have had, I perceive, no effect upon Crito. And therefore I want
you to be surety for me now, as he was surety for me at the trial: but
let the promise be of another sort; for he was my surety to the judges
that I would remain, but you must be my surety to him that I shall not
remain, but go away and depart; and then he will suffer less at my
death, and not be grieved when he sees my body being burned or buried. I
would not have him sorrow at my hard lot, or say at the burial, Thus we
lay out Socrates, or, Thus we follow him to the grave or bury him; for
false words are not only evil in themselves, but they infect the soul
with evil. Be of good cheer, then, my dear Crito, and say that you are
burying my body only, and do with that as is usual, and as you think
best.
When he had spoken these words, he arose and went into the bath chamber
with Crito, who bade us wait; and we waited, talking and thinking of the
subject of discourse, and also of the greatness of our sorrow; he was
like a father of whom we were being bereaved, and we were about to pass
the rest of our lives as orphans. When he had taken the bath his
children were brought to him -- (he had two young sons and an elder
one); and the women of his family also came, and he talked to them and
gave them a few directions in the presence of Crito; and he then
dismissed them and returned to us.
Now the hour of sunset was near, for a good deal of time had passed
while he was within. When he came out, he sat down with us again after
his bath, but not much was said. Soon the jailer, who was the servant of
the Eleven, entered and stood by him, saying: To you, Socrates, whom I
