Persons of the Dialogue
SOCRATES
CRITO
Scene
The Prison of Socrates.
Socrates. WHY have you come at this hour, Crito?
it must be quite early.
Crito. Yes, certainly.
Soc. What is the exact time?
Cr. The dawn is breaking.
Soc. I wonder the keeper of the prison
would let you in.
Cr. He knows me because I often come,
Socrates; moreover. I have done him a kindness.
Soc. And are you only just come?
Cr. No, I came some time ago.
Soc. Then why did you sit and say
nothing, instead of awakening me at once?
Cr. Why, indeed, Socrates, I myself would
rather not have all this sleeplessness and
sorrow. But I have been wondering at your
peaceful slumbers, and that was the reason why I
did not awaken you, because I wanted you to be
out of pain. I have always thought you happy in
the calmness of your temperament; but never did
I see the like of the easy, cheerful way in
which you bear this calamity.
Soc. Why, Crito, when a man has reached
my age he ought not to be repining at the
prospect of death.
Cr. And yet other old men find themselves
in similar misfortunes, and age does not prevent
them from repining.
Soc. That may be. But you have not told
me why you come at this early hour.
Cr. I come to bring you a message which
is sad and painful; not, as I believe, to
yourself but to all of us who are your friends,
and saddest of all to me.
Soc. What! I suppose that the ship has
come from Delos, on the arrival of which I am to
die?
Cr. No, the ship has not actually
arrived, but she will probably be here to-day,
as persons who have come from Sunium tell me
that they have left her there; and therefore
to-morrow, Socrates, will be the last day of
your life.
Soc. Very well, Crito; if such is the
will of God, I am willing; but my belief is that
there will be a delay of a day.
Cr. Why do you say this?
Soc. I will tell you. I am to die on the
day after the arrival of the ship?
Cr. Yes; that is what the authorities
say.
Soc. But I do not think that the ship
will be here until to-morrow; this I gather from
a vision which I had last night, or rather only
just now, when you fortunately allowed me to
sleep.
Cr. And what was the nature of the
vision?
Soc. There came to me the likeness of a
woman, fair and comely, clothed in white
raiment, who called to me and said: O Socrates-
"The third day hence, to Phthia shalt thou go."
Cr. What a singular dream, Socrates!
Soc. There can be no doubt about the
meaning Crito, I think.
Cr. Yes: the meaning is only too clear.
But, O! my beloved Socrates, let me entreat you
once more to take my advice and escape. For if
you die I shall not only lose a friend who can
never be replaced, but there is another evil:
people who do not know you and me will believe
that I might have saved you if I had been
willing to give money, but that I did not care.
Now, can there be a worse disgrace than this-
that I should be thought to value money more
than the life of a friend? For the many will not
be persuaded that I wanted you to escape, and
that you refused.
Soc. But why, my dear Crito, should we
care about the opinion of the many? Good men,
and they are the only persons who are worth
considering, will think of these things truly as
they happened.
Cr. But do you see. Socrates, that the
opinion of the many must be regarded, as is
evident in your own case, because they can do
the very greatest evil to anyone who has lost
their good opinion?
Soc. I only wish, Crito, that they could;
for then they could also do the greatest good,
and that would be well. But the truth is, that
they can do neither good nor evil: they cannot
make a man wise or make him foolish; and
whatever they do is the result of chance.
Cr. Well, I will not dispute about that;
but please to tell me, Socrates, whether you are
not acting out of regard to me and your other
friends: are you not afraid that if you escape
hence we may get into trouble with the informers
for having stolen you away, and lose either the
whole or a great part of our property; or that
even a worse evil may happen to us? Now, if this
is your fear, be at ease; for in order to save
you, we ought surely to run this or even a
greater risk; be persuaded, then, and do as I
say.
Soc. Yes, Crito, that is one fear which
you mention, but by no means the only one.
Cr. Fear not. There are persons who at no
great cost are willing to save you and bring you
out of prison; and as for the informers, you may
observe that they are far from being exorbitant
in their demands; a little money will satisfy
them. My means, which, as I am sure, are ample,
are at your service, and if you have a scruple
about spending all mine, here are strangers who
will give you the use of theirs; and one of
them, Simmias the Theban, has brought a sum of
money for this very purpose; and Cebes and many
others are willing to spend their money too. I
say, therefore, do not on that account hesitate
about making your escape, and do not say, as you
did in the court, that you will have a
difficulty in knowing what to do with yourself
if you escape. For men will love you in other
places to which you may go, and not in Athens
only; there are friends of mine in Thessaly, if
you like to go to them, who will value and
protect you, and no Thessalian will give you any
trouble. Nor can I think that you are justified,
Socrates, in betraying your own life when you
might be saved; this is playing into the hands
of your enemies and destroyers; and moreover I
should say that you were betraying your
children; for you might bring them up and
educate them; instead of which you go away and
leave them, and they will have to take their
chance; and if they do not meet with the usual
fate of orphans, there will be small thanks to
you. No man should bring children into the world
who is unwilling to persevere to the end in
their nurture and education. But you are
choosing the easier part, as I think, not the
better and manlier, which would rather have
become one who professes virtue in all his
actions, like yourself. And, indeed, I am
ashamed not only of you, but of us who are your
friends, when I reflect that this entire
business of yours will be attributed to our want
of courage. The trial need never have come on,
or might have been brought to another issue; and
the end of all, which is the crowning absurdity,
will seem to have been permitted by us, through
cowardice and baseness, who might have saved
you, as you might have saved yourself, if we had
been good for anything (for there was no
difficulty in escaping); and we did not see how
disgraceful, Socrates, and also miserable all
this will be to us as well as to you. Make your
mind up then, or rather have your mind already
made up, for the time of deliberation is over,
and there is only one thing to be done, which
must be done, if at all, this very night, and
which any delay will render all but impossible;
I beseech you therefore, Socrates, to be
persuaded by me, and to do as I say.
Soc. Dear Crito, your zeal is invaluable,
if a right one; but if wrong, the greater the
zeal the greater the evil; and therefore we
ought to consider whether these things shall be
done or not. For I am and always have been one
of those natures who must be guided by reason,
whatever the reason may be which upon reflection
appears to me to be the best; and now that this
fortune has come upon me, I cannot put away the
reasons which I have before given: the
principles which I have hitherto honored and
revered I still honor, and unless we can find
other and better principles on the instant, I am
certain not to agree with you; no, not even if
the power of the multitude could inflict many
more imprisonments, confiscations, deaths,
frightening us like children with hobgoblin
terrors. But what will be the fairest way of
considering the question? Shall I return to your
old argument about the opinions of men, some of
which are to be regarded, and others, as we were
saying, are not to be regarded? Now were we
right in maintaining this before I was
condemned? And has the argument which was once
good now proved to be talk for the sake of
talking; in fact an amusement only, and
altogether vanity? That is what I want to
consider with your help, Crito: whether, under
my present circumstances, the argument appears
to be in any way different or not; and is to be
allowed by me or disallowed. That argument,
which, as I believe, is maintained by many who
assume to be authorities, was to the effect, as
I was saying, that the opinions of some men are
to be regarded, and of other men not to be
regarded. Now you, Crito, are a disinterested
person who are not going to die to-morrow- at
least, there is no human probability of this,
and you are therefore not liable to be deceived
by the circumstances in which you are placed.
Tell me, then, whether I am right in saying that
some opinions, and the opinions of some men
only, are to be valued, and other opinions, and
the opinions of other men, are not to be valued.
I ask you whether I was right in maintaining
this?
Cr. Certainly.
Soc. The good are to be regarded, and not
the bad?
Cr. Yes.
Soc. And the opinions of the wise are
good, and the opinions of the unwise are evil?
Cr. Certainly.
Soc. And what was said about another
matter? Was the disciple in gymnastics supposed
to attend to the praise and blame and opinion of
every man, or of one man only- his physician or
trainer, whoever that was?
Cr. Of one man only.
Soc. And he ought to fear the censure and
welcome the praise of that one only, and not of
the many?
Cr. That is clear.
Soc. And he ought to live and train, and
eat and drink in the way which seems good to his
single master who has understanding, rather than
according to the opinion of all other men put
together?
Cr. True.
Soc. And if he disobeys and disregards
the opinion and approval of the one, and regards
the opinion of the many who have no
understanding, will he not suffer evil?
Cr. Certainly he will.
Soc. And what will the evil be, whither
tending and what affcting, in the disobedient
person?
Cr. Clearly, affecting the body; that is
what is destroyed by the evil.
Soc. Very good; and is not this true,
Crito, of other things which we need not
separately enumerate? In the matter of just and
unjust, fair and foul, good and evil, which are
the subjects of our present consultation, ought
we to follow the opinion of the many and to fear
them; or the opinion of the one man who has
understanding, and whom we ought to fear and
reverence more than all the rest of the world:
and whom deserting we shall destroy and injure
that principle in us which may be assumed to be
improved by justice and deteriorated by
injustice; is there not such a principle?
Cr. Certainly there is, Socrates.
Soc. Take a parallel instance; if, acting
under the advice of men who have no
understanding, we destroy that which is
improvable by health and deteriorated by
disease- when that has been destroyed, I say,
would life be worth having? And that is- the
body?
Cr. Yes.
Soc. Could we live, having an evil and
corrupted body?
Cr. Certainly not.
Soc. And will life be worth having, if
that higher part of man be depraved, which is
improved by justice and deteriorated by
injustice? Do we suppose that principle,
whatever it may be in man, which has to do with
justice and injustice, to be inferior to the
body?
Cr. Certainly not.
Soc. More honored, then?
Cr. Far more honored.
Soc. Then, my friend, we must not regard
what the many say of us: but what he, the one
man who has understanding of just and unjust,
will say, and what the truth will say. And
therefore you begin in error when you suggest
that we should regard the opinion of the many
about just and unjust, good and evil, honorable
and dishonorable. Well, someone will say, "But
the many can kill us."
Cr. Yes, Socrates; that will clearly be
the answer.
Soc. That is true; but still I find with
surprise that the old argument is, as I
conceive, unshaken as ever. And I should like to
know Whether I may say the same of another
proposition- that not life, but a good life, is
to be chiefly valued?
Cr. Yes, that also remains.
Soc. And a good life is equivalent to a
just and honorable one- that holds also?
Cr. Yes, that holds.
Soc. From these premises I proceed to
argue the question whether I ought or ought not
to try to escape without the consent of the
Athenians: and if I am clearly right in
escaping, then I will make the attempt; but if
not, I will abstain. The other considerations
which you mention, of money and loss of
character, and the duty of educating children,
are, I fear, only the doctrines of the
multitude, who would be as ready to call people
to life, if they were able, as they are to put
them to death- and with as little reason. But
now, since the argument has thus far prevailed,
the only question which remains to be considered
is, whether we shall do rightly either in
escaping or in suffering others to aid in our
escape and paying them in money and thanks, or
whether we shan not do rightly; and if the
latter, then death or any other calamity which
may ensue on my remaining here must not be
allowed to enter into the calculation.
Cr. I think that you are right, Socrates;
how then shall we proceed?
Soc. Let us consider the matter together,
and do you either refute me if you can, and I
will be convinced; or else cease, my dear
friend, from repeating to me that I ought to
escape against the wishes of the Athenians: for
I am extremely desirous to be persuaded by you,
but not against my own better judgment. And now
please to consider my first position, and do
your best to answer me.
Cr. I will do my best.
Soc. Are we to say that we are never
intentionally to do wrong, or that in one way we
ought and in another way we ought not to do
wrong, or is doing wrong always evil and
dishonorable, as I was just now saying, and as
has been already acknowledged by us? Are all our
former admissions which were made within a few
days to be thrown away? And have we, at our age,
been earnestly discoursing with one another all
our life long only to discover that we are no
better than children? Or are we to rest assured,
in spite of the opinion of the many, and in
spite of consequences whether better or worse,
of the truth of what was then said, that
injustice is always an evil and dishonor to him
who acts unjustly? Shall we affirm that?
Cr. Yes.
Soc. Then we must do no wrong?
Cr. Certainly not.
Soc. Nor when injured injure in return,
as the many imagine; for we must injure no one
at all?
Cr. Clearly not.
Soc. Again, Crito, may we do evil?
Cr. Surely not, Socrates.
Soc. And what of doing evil in return for
evil, which is the morality of the many-is that
just or not?
Cr. Not just.
Soc. For doing evil to another is the
same as injuring him?
Cr. Very true.
Soc. Then we ought not to retaliate or
render evil for evil to anyone, whatever evil we
may have suffered from him. But I would have you
consider, Crito, whether you really mean what
you are saying. For this opinion has never been
held, and never will be held, by any
considerable number of persons; and those who
are agreed and those who are not agreed upon
this point have no common ground, and can only
despise one another, when they see how widely
they differ. Tell me, then, whether you agree
with and assent to my first principle, that
neither injury nor retaliation nor warding off
evil by evil is ever right. And shall that be
the premise of our agreement? Or do you decline
and dissent from this? For this has been of old
and is still my opinion; but, if you are of
another opinion, let me hear what you have to
say. If, however, you remain of the same mind as
formerly, I will proceed to the next step.
Cr. You may proceed, for I have not
changed my mind.
Soc. Then I will proceed to the next
step, which may be put in the form of a
question: Ought a man to do what he admits to be
right, or ought he to betray the right?
Cr. He ought to do what he thinks right.
Soc. But if this is true, what is the
application? In leaving the prison against the
will of the Athenians, do I wrong any? or rather
do I not wrong those whom I ought least to
wrong? Do I not desert the principles which were
acknowledged by us to be just? What do you say?
Cr. I cannot tell, Socrates, for I do not
know.
Soc. Then consider the matter in this
way: Imagine that I am about to play truant (you
may call the proceeding by any name which you
like), and the laws and the government come and
interrogate me: "Tell us, Socrates," they say;
"what are you about? are you going by an act of
yours to overturn us- the laws and the whole
State, as far as in you lies? Do you imagine
that a State can subsist and not be overthrown,
in which the decisions of law have no power, but
are set aside and overthrown by individuals?"
What will be our answer, Crito, to these and the
like words? Anyone, and especially a clever
rhetorician, will have a good deal to urge about
the evil of setting aside the law which requires
a sentence to be carried out; and we might
reply, "Yes; but the State has injured us and
given an unjust sentence." Suppose I say that?
Cr. Very good, Socrates.
Soc. "And was that our agreement with you?" the
law would sar, "or were you to abide by the
sentence of the State?" And if I were to express
astonishment at their saying this, the law would
probably add: "Answer, Socrates, instead of
opening your eyes: you are in the habit of
asking and answering questions. Tell us what
complaint you have to make against us which
justifies you in attempting to destroy us and
the State? In the first place did we not bring
you into existence? Your father married your
mother by our aid and begat you. Say whether you
have any objection to urge against those of us
who regulate marriage?" None, I should reply.
"Or against those of us who regulate the system
of nurture and education of children in which
you were trained? Were not the laws, who have
the charge of this, right in commanding your
father to train you in music and gymnastic?"
Right, I should reply. "Well, then, since you
were brought into the world and nurtured and
educated by us, can you deny in the first place
that you are our child and slave, as your
fathers were before you? And if this is true you
are not on equal terms with us; nor can you
think that you have a right to do to us what we
are doing to you. Would you have any right to
strike or revile or do any other evil to a
father or to your master, if you had one, when
you have been struck or reviled by him, or
received some other evil at his hands?- you
would not say this? And because we think right
to destroy you, do you think that you have any
right to destroy us in return, and your country
as far as in you lies? And will you, O professor
of true virtue, say that you are justified in
this? Has a philosopher like you failed to
discover that our country is more to be valued
and higher and holier far than mother or father
or any ancestor, and more to be regarded in the
eyes of the gods and of men of understanding?
also to be soothed, and gently and reverently
entreated when angry, even more than a father,
and if not persuaded, obeyed? And when we are
punished by her, whether with imprisonment or
stripes, the punishment is to be endured in
silence; and if she leads us to wounds or death
in battle, thither we follow as is right;
neither may anyone yield or retreat or leave his
rank, but whether in battle or in a court of
law, or in any other place, he must do what his
city and his country order him; or he must
change their view of what is just: and if he may
do no violence to his father or mother, much
less may he do violence to his country." What
answer shall we make to this, Crito? Do the laws
speak truly, or do they not?
Cr. I think that they do.
Soc. Then the laws will say: "Consider,
Socrates, if this is true, that in your present
attempt you are going to do us wrong. For, after
having brought you into the world, and nurtured
and educated you, and given you and every other
citizen a share in every good that we had to
give, we further proclaim and give the right to
every Athenian, that if he does not like us when
he has come of age and has seen the ways of the
city, and made our acquaintance, he may go where
he pleases and take his goods with him; and none
of us laws will forbid him or interfere with
him. Any of you who does not like us and the
city, and who wants to go to a colony or to any
other city, may go where he likes, and take his
goods with him. But he who has experience of the
manner in which we order justice and administer
the State, and still remains, has entered into
an implied contract that he will do as we
command him. And he who disobeys us is, as we
maintain, thrice wrong: first, because in
disobeying us he is disobeying his parents;
secondly, because we are the authors of his
education; thirdly, because he has made an
agreement with us that he will duly obey our
commands; and he neither obeys them nor
convinces us that our commands are wrong; and we
do not rudely impose them, but give him the
alternative of obeying or convincing us; that is
what we offer and he does neither. These are the
sort of accusations to which, as we were saying,
you, Socrates, will be exposed if you accomplish
your intentions; you, above all other
Athenians." Suppose I ask, why is this? they
will justly retort upon me that I above all
other men have acknowledged the agreement.
"There is clear proof," they will say,
"Socrates, that we and the city were not
displeasing to you. Of all Athenians you have
been the most constant resident in the city,
which, as you never leave, you may be supposed
to love. For you never went out of the city
either to see the games, except once when you
went to the Isthmus, or to any other place
unless when you were on military service; nor
did you travel as other men do. Nor had you any
curiosity to know other States or their laws:
your affections did not go beyond us and our
State; we were your especial favorites, and you
acquiesced in our government of you; and this is
the State in which you begat your children,
which is a proof of your satisfaction. Moreover,
you might, if you had liked, have fixed the
penalty at banishment in the course of the
trial-the State which refuses to let you go now
would have let you go then. But you pretended
that you preferred death to exile, and that you
were not grieved at death. And now you have
forgotten these fine sentiments, and pay no
respect to us, the laws, of whom you are the
destroyer; and are doing what only a miserable
slave would do, running away and turning your
back upon the compacts and agreements which you
made as a citizen. And first of all answer this
very question: Are we right in saying that you
agreed to be governed according to us in deed,
and not in word only? Is that true or not?" How
shall we answer that, Crito? Must we not agree?
Cr. There is no help, Socrates.
Soc. Then will they not say: "You,
Socrates, are breaking the covenants and
agreements which you made with us at your
leisure, not in any haste or under any
compulsion or deception, but having had seventy
years to think of them, during which time you
were at liberty to leave the city, if we were
not to your mind, or if our covenants appeared
to you to be unfair. You had your choice, and
might have gone either to Lacedaemon or Crete,
which you often praise for their good
government, or to some other Hellenic or foreign
State. Whereas you, above all other Athenians,
seemed to be so fond of the State, or, in other
words, of us her laws (for who would like a
State that has no laws?), that you never stirred
out of her: the halt, the blind, the maimed,
were not more stationary in her than you were.
And now you run away and forsake your
agreements. Not so, Socrates, if you will take
our advice; do not make yourself ridiculous by
escaping out of the city.
"For just consider, if you transgress and err in
this sort of way, what good will you do, either
to yourself or to your friends? That your
friends will be driven into exile and deprived
of citizenship, or will lose their property, is
tolerably certain; and you yourself, if you fly
to one of the neighboring cities, as, for
example, Thebes or Megara, both of which are
well-governed cities, will come to them as an
enemy, Socrates, and their government will be
against you, and all patriotic citizens will
cast an evil eye upon you as a subverter of the
laws, and you will confirm in the minds of the
judges the justice of their own condemnation of
you. For he who is a corrupter of the laws is
more than likely to be corrupter of the young
and foolish portion of mankind. Will you then
flee from well-ordered cities and virtuous men?
and is existence worth having on these terms? Or
will you go to them without shame, and talk to
them, Socrates? And what will you say to them?
What you say here about virtue and justice and
institutions and laws being the best things
among men? Would that be decent of you? Surely
not. But if you go away from well-governed
States to Crito's friends in Thessaly, where
there is great disorder and license, they will
be charmed to have the tale of your escape from
prison, set off with ludicrous particulars of
the manner in which you were wrapped in a
goatskin or some other disguise, and
metamorphosed as the fashion of runaways is-
that is very likely; but will there be no one to
remind you that in your old age you violated the
most sacred laws from a miserable desire of a
little more life? Perhaps not, if you keep them
in a good temper; but if they are out of temper
you will hear many degrading things; you will
live, but how?- as the flatterer of all men, and
the servant of all men; and doing what?- eating
and drinking in Thessaly, having gone abroad in
order that you may get a dinner. And where will
be your fine sentiments about justice and virtue
then? Say that you wish to live for the sake of
your children, that you may bring them up and
educate them- will you take them into Thessaly
and deprive them of Athenian citizenship? Is
that the benefit which you would confer upon
them? Or are you under the impression that they
will be better cared for and educated here if
you are still alive, although absent from them;
for that your friends will take care of them? Do
you fancy that if you are an inhabitant of
Thessaly they will take care of them, and if you
are an inhabitant of the other world they will
not take care of them? Nay; but if they who call
themselves friends are truly friends, they
surely will.
"Listen, then, Socrates, to us who have brought
you up. Think not of life and children first,
and of justice afterwards, but of justice first,
that you may be justified before the princes of
the world below. For neither will you nor any
that belong to you be happier or holier or
juster in this life, or happier in another, if
you do as Crito bids. Now you depart in
innocence, a sufferer and not a doer of evil; a
victim, not of the laws, but of men. But if you
go forth, returning evil for evil, and injury
for injury, breaking the covenants and
agreements which you have made with us, and
wronging those whom you ought least to wrong,
that is to say, yourself, your friends, your
country, and us, we shall be angry with you
while you live, and our brethren, the laws in
the world below, will receive you as an enemy;
for they will know that you have done your best
to destroy us. Listen, then, to us and not to
Crito."
This is the voice which I seem to hear murmuring
in my ears, like the sound of the flute in the
ears of the mystic; that voice, I say, is
humming in my ears, and prevents me from hearing
any other. And I know that anything more which
you will say will be in vain. Yet speak, if you
have anything to say.
Cr. I have nothing to say, Socrates.
Soc. Then let me follow the intimations
of the will of God