The Soul Is Immortal

The philosophical arguments are finished. Socrates turns to the myth of the earth's true shape — a vision of a world far larger and more splendid than what we see from within our hollow, like frogs at the bottom of a pond. He describes the fate of different kinds of souls after death: those who lived middling lives go to the Acherusian lake and are purified. Those who committed great wrongs face punishment proportionate to their crimes. Those who lived philosophically go to the most beautiful places of all and live without bodies.

He is careful about the status of this account. A reasonable person, he says, should not insist that the description is exactly right. But the venture of believing something like it is a noble one, and worth the comfort. He has told the long tale for this reason. Then he gives his instructions to those around him: cast aside the pleasures and ornaments of the body as alien and harmful; seek instead the pleasures of knowledge; adorn the soul with temperance, justice, courage, and truth. He says goodbye to Simmias and Cebes and all the rest — the voice of fate, he says, is already calling him.

Crito asks if there are any other instructions — for his children, or anything else. Nothing special, says Socrates: just take care of yourselves. That is the greatest service you can render. He then addresses Crito's practical worry about burial: don't say "here we lay out Socrates" or "here we follow him to the grave." Such words are wrong in themselves and infect the soul with error. You are burying the body only. Do with it what is customary and what you think best. He gets up to bathe. The children and the women are brought in; he speaks with them in Crito's presence, gives his instructions, and sends them away. He returns to the friends and they sit together in the quiet of the late afternoon.