CRITO
by Plato
Translated by Benjamin Jowett
INTRODUCTION.
The Crito seems intended to exhibit the character of
Socrates in one light only, not as the philosopher,
fulfilling a divine mission and trusting in the will of
heaven, but simply as the good citizen, who having been
unjustly condemned is willing to give up his life in
obedience to the laws of the state...
The days of Socrates are drawing to a close; the fatal ship
has been seen off Sunium, as he is informed by his aged
friend and contemporary Crito, who visits him before the
dawn has broken; he himself has been warned in a dream that
on the third day he must depart. Time is precious,
and Crito has come early in order to gain his consent to a
plan of escape. This can be easily accomplished by
his friends, who will incur no danger in making the attempt
to save him, but will be disgraced for ever if they allow
him to perish. He should think of his duty to his
children, and not play into the hands of his enemies.
Money is already provided by Crito as well as by Simmias
and others, and he will have no difficulty in finding
friends in Thessaly and other places.
Socrates is afraid that Crito is but pressing upon him the
opinions of the many: whereas, all his life long he
has followed the dictates of reason only and the opinion of
the one wise or skilled man. There was a time when
Crito himself had allowed the propriety of this. And
although some one will say ‘the many can kill us,’ that
makes no difference; but a good life, in other words, a
just and honourable life, is alone to be valued. All
considerations of loss of reputation or injury to his
children should be dismissed: the only question is
whether he would be right in attempting to escape.
Crito, who is a disinterested person not having the fear of
death before his eyes, shall answer this for him.
Before he was condemned they had often held discussions, in
which they agreed that no man should either do evil, or
return evil for evil, or betray the right. Are these
principles to be altered because the circumstances of
Socrates are altered? Crito admits that they remain
the same. Then is his escape consistent with the
maintenance of them? To this Crito is unable or
unwilling to reply.
Socrates proceeds:--Suppose the Laws of Athens to come and
remonstrate with him: they will ask ‘Why does he seek
to overturn them?’ and if he replies, ‘they have injured
him,’ will not the Laws answer, ‘Yes, but was that the
agreement? Has he any objection to make to them which
would justify him in overturning them? Was he not
brought into the world and educated by their help, and are
they not his parents? He might have left Athens and
gone where he pleased, but he has lived there for seventy
years more constantly than any other citizen.’ Thus
he has clearly shown that he acknowledged the agreement,
which he cannot now break without dishonour to himself and
danger to his friends. Even in the course of the
trial he might have proposed exile as the penalty, but then
he declared that he preferred death to exile. And
whither will he direct his footsteps? In any
well-ordered state the Laws will consider him as an
enemy. Possibly in a land of misrule like Thessaly he
may be welcomed at first, and the unseemly narrative of his
escape will be regarded by the inhabitants as an amusing
tale. But if he offends them he will have to learn
another sort of lesson. Will he continue to give
lectures in virtue? That would hardly be
decent. And how will his children be the gainers if
he takes them into Thessaly, and deprives them of Athenian
citizenship? Or if he leaves them behind, does he
expect that they will be better taken care of by his
friends because he is in Thessaly? Will not true
friends care for them equally whether he is alive or dead?
Finally, they exhort him to think of justice first, and of
life and children afterwards. He may now depart in
peace and innocence, a sufferer and not a doer of
evil. But if he breaks agreements, and returns evil
for evil, they will be angry with him while he lives; and
their brethren the Laws of the world below will receive him
as an enemy. Such is the mystic voice which is always
murmuring in his ears.
That Socrates was not a good citizen was a charge made
against him during his lifetime, which has been often
repeated in later ages. The crimes of Alcibiades,
Critias, and Charmides, who had been his pupils, were still
recent in the memory of the now restored democracy.
The fact that he had been neutral in the death-struggle of
Athens was not likely to conciliate popular
good-will. Plato, writing probably in the next
generation, undertakes the defence of his friend and master
in this particular, not to the Athenians of his day, but to
posterity and the world at large.
Whether such an incident ever really occurred as the visit
of Crito and the proposal of escape is uncertain:
Plato could easily have invented far more than that
(Phaedr.); and in the selection of Crito, the aged friend,
as the fittest person to make the proposal to Socrates, we
seem to recognize the hand of the artist. Whether any
one who has been subjected by the laws of his country to an
unjust judgment is right in attempting to escape, is a
thesis about which casuists might disagree. Shelley
(Prose Works) is of opinion that Socrates ‘did well to
die,’ but not for the ‘sophistical’ reasons which Plato has
put into his mouth. And there would be no difficulty
in arguing that Socrates should have lived and preferred to
a glorious death the good which he might still be able to
perform. ‘A rhetorician would have had much to say
upon that point.’ It may be observed however that
Plato never intended to answer the question of casuistry,
but only to exhibit the ideal of patient virtue which
refuses to do the least evil in order to avoid the
greatest, and to show his master maintaining in death the
opinions which he had professed in his life. Not ‘the
world,’ but the ‘one wise man,’ is still the paradox of
Socrates in his last hours. He must be guided by
reason, although her conclusions may be fatal to him.
The remarkable sentiment that the wicked can do neither
good nor evil is true, if taken in the sense, which he
means, of moral evil; in his own words, ‘they cannot make a
man wise or foolish.’
This little dialogue is a perfect piece of dialectic, in
which granting the ‘common principle,’ there is no escaping
from the conclusion. It is anticipated at the
beginning by the dream of Socrates and the parody of
Homer. The personification of the Laws, and of their
brethren the Laws in the world below, is one of the noblest
and boldest figures of speech which occur in Plato.
CRITO
by
Plato
Translated by Benjamin Jowett
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.
SOCRATES: What is the exact time?
CRITO: The dawn is breaking.
SOCRATES: I wonder that the keeper of the prison
would let you in.
CRITO: He knows me because I often come, Socrates;
moreover. I have done him a kindness.
SOCRATES: And are you only just arrived?
CRITO: No, I came some time ago.
SOCRATES: Then why did you sit and say nothing,
instead of at once awakening me?
CRITO: I should not have liked myself, Socrates, to
be in such great trouble and unrest as you are-indeed I
should not: I have been watching with amazement your
peaceful slumbers; and for that reason I did not awake you,
because I wished to minimize the pain. I have always
thought you to be of a happy disposition; but never did I
see anything like the easy, tranquil manner in which you
bear this calamity.
SOCRATES: Why, Crito, when a man has reached my age
he ought not to be repining at the approach of death.
CRITO: And yet other old men find themselves in
similar misfortunes, and age does not prevent them from
repining.
SOCRATES: That is true. But you have not told
me why you come at this early hour.
CRITO: 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.
SOCRATES: What? Has the ship come from Delos,
on the arrival of which I am to die?
CRITO: 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.
SOCRATES: 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.
CRITO: Why do you think so?
SOCRATES: I will tell you. I am to die on the
day after the arrival of the ship?
CRITO: Yes; that is what the authorities say.
SOCRATES: But I do not think that the ship will be
here until to-morrow; this I infer from a vision which I
had last night, or rather only just now, when you
fortunately allowed me to sleep.
CRITO: And what was the nature of the vision?
SOCRATES: There appeared to me the likeness of a
woman, fair and comely,
clothed in bright raiment, who called to me and said:
O Socrates,
‘The third day hence to fertile Phthia shalt thou
go.’ (Homer, Il.)
CRITO: What a singular dream, Socrates!
SOCRATES: There can be no doubt about the meaning,
Crito, I think.
CRITO: Yes; the meaning is only too clear. But,
oh! 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.
SOCRATES: 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 occurred.
CRITO: But you see, Socrates, that the opinion of the
many must be regarded, for what is now happening shows that
they can do the greatest evil to any one who has lost their
good opinion.
SOCRATES: I only wish it were so, Crito; and that the
many could do the greatest evil; for then they would also
be able to do the greatest good- and what a fine thing this
would be! But in reality they can do neither; for
they cannot make a man either wise or foolish; and whatever
they do is the result of chance.
CRITO: Well, I will not dispute with you; 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 from prison 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 you
fear on our account, 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.
SOCRATES: Yes, Crito, that is one fear which you
mention, but by no means the only one.
CRITO: Fear not-there are persons who are willing to
get you out of prison at no great cost; and as for the
informers they are far from being exorbitant in their
demands-a little money will satisfy them. My means,
which are certainly 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 large sum of money for
this very purpose; and Cebes and many others are prepared
to spend their money in helping you to escape. I say,
therefore, do not hesitate on our account, and do not say,
as you did in the court (compare Apol.), that you will have
a difficulty in knowing what to do with yourself anywhere
else. 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 at all
justified, Socrates, in betraying your own life when you
might be saved; in acting thus you are playing into the
hands of your enemies, who are hurrying on your
destruction. And further I should say that you are
deserting your own 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 appear to be
choosing the easier part, not the better and manlier, which
would have been more becoming in one who professes to care
for 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 the whole business will
be attributed entirely to our want of courage. The
trial need never have come on, or might have been managed
differently; and this last act, or crowning folly, will
seem to have occurred through our negligence and cowardice,
who might have saved you, if we had been good for anything;
and you might have saved yourself, for there was no
difficulty at all. See now, Socrates, how sad and
discreditable are the consequences, both to us and
you. Make up your mind 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 this
very night, and if we delay at all will be no longer
practicable or possible; I beseech you therefore, Socrates,
be persuaded by me, and do as I say.
SOCRATES: Dear Crito, your zeal is invaluable, if a
right one; but if wrong, the greater the zeal the greater
the danger; and therefore we ought to consider whether I
shall or shall not do as you say. 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 chance has
befallen me, I cannot repudiate my own words: the
principles which I have hitherto honoured and revered I
still honour, and unless we can at once find other and
better principles, 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 (compare Apol.).
What will be the fairest way of considering the
question? Shall I return to your old argument about
the opinions of men?--we were saying that some of them are
to be regarded, and others not. 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-mere childish nonsense? 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 persons of authority, 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 not going to die to-morrow-at least, there
is no human probability of this, and therefore you are
disinterested and 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 that other
opinions, and the opinions of other men, are not to be
valued. I ask you whether I was right in maintaining
this?
CRITO: Certainly.
SOCRATES: The good are to be regarded, and not the
bad?
CRITO: Yes.
SOCRATES: And the opinions of the wise are good, and
the opinions of the unwise are evil?
CRITO: Certainly.
SOCRATES: And what was said about another
matter? Is the pupil who devotes himself to the
practice of gymnastics supposed to attend to the praise and
blame and opinion of every man, or of one man only-his
physician or trainer, whoever he may be?
CRITO: Of one man only.
SOCRATES: And he ought to fear the censure and
welcome the praise of that one only, and not of the many?
CRITO: Clearly so.
SOCRATES: And he ought to act 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?
CRITO: True.
SOCRATES: 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?
CRITO: Certainly he will.
SOCRATES: And what will the evil be, whither tending
and what affecting, in the disobedient person?
CRITO: Clearly, affecting the body; that is what is
destroyed by the evil.
SOCRATES: Very good; and is not this true, Crito, of
other things which we need not separately enumerate?
In questions 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?
ought we not to fear and reverence him more than all the
rest of the world: and if we desert him shall we not
destroy and injure that principle in us which may be
assumed to be improved by justice and deteriorated by
injustice;--there is such a principle?
CRITO: Certainly there is, Socrates.
SOCRATES: Take a parallel instance:--if, acting under
the advice of those who have no understanding, we destroy
that which is improved by health and is deteriorated by
disease, would life be worth having? And that which
has been destroyed is-the body?
CRITO: Yes.
SOCRATES: Could we live, having an evil and corrupted
body?
CRITO: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: And will life be worth having, if that
higher part of man be destroyed, which is improved by
justice and depraved 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?
CRITO: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: More honourable than the body?
CRITO: Far more.
SOCRATES: 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 advise that we should
regard the opinion of the many about just and unjust, good
and evil, honorable and dishonorable.-‘Well,’ some one will
say, ‘but the many can kill us.’
CRITO: Yes, Socrates; that will clearly be the
answer.
SOCRATES: And it is true; but still I find with
surprise that the old argument is 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?
CRITO: Yes, that also remains unshaken.
SOCRATES: And a good life is equivalent to a just and
honorable one-that holds also?
CRITO: Yes, it does.
SOCRATES: From these premisses I proceed to argue the
question whether I ought or ought not to try and 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 one’s children, are, I fear, only the doctrines
of the multitude, who would be as ready to restore 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 in
reality we shall 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.
CRITO: I think that you are right, Socrates; how then
shall we proceed?
SOCRATES: 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
highly value your attempts to persuade me to do so, but I
may not be persuaded against my own better judgment.
And now please to consider my first position, and try how
you can best answer me.
CRITO: I will.
SOCRATES: 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, in
spite of the opinion of the many, and in spite of
consequences whether better or worse, shall we insist on
the truth of what was then said, that injustice is always
an evil and dishonour to him who acts unjustly? Shall
we say so or not?
CRITO: Yes.
SOCRATES: Then we must do no wrong?
CRITO: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: Nor when injured injure in return, as the
many imagine; for we must injure no one at all? (E.g.
compare Rep.)
CRITO: Clearly not.
SOCRATES: Again, Crito, may we do evil?
CRITO: Surely not, Socrates.
SOCRATES: And what of doing evil in return for evil,
which is the morality of the many-is that just or not?
CRITO: Not just.
SOCRATES: For doing evil to another is the same as
injuring him?
CRITO: Very true.
SOCRATES: Then we ought not to retaliate or render
evil for evil to any one, 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 premiss of
our argument? Or do you decline and dissent from
this? For so I have ever thought, and continue to
think; 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.
CRITO: You may proceed, for I have not changed my
mind.
SOCRATES: Then I will go on to the next point, 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?
CRITO: He ought to do what he thinks right.
SOCRATES: 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?
CRITO: I cannot tell, Socrates, for I do not know.
SOCRATES: 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 not 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
trampled upon by individuals?’ What will be our
answer, Crito, to these and the like words? Any one,
and especially a rhetorician, will have a good deal to say
on behalf of the law which requires a sentence to be
carried out. He will argue that this law should not
be set aside; and shall we reply, ‘Yes; but the state has
injured us and given an unjust sentence.’ Suppose I
say that?
CRITO: Very good, Socrates.
SOCRATES: ‘And was that our agreement with you?’ the
law would answer; ‘or were you to abide by the sentence of
the state?’ And if I were to express my astonishment
at their words, 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 have you 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 after birth
regulate the nurture and education of children, in which
you also were trained? Were not the laws, which have
the charge of education, 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 your father or your master, if you had one, because 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? Will you, O professor
of true virtue, pretend 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 either to be persuaded, or if not persuaded, to be
obeyed? And when we are punished by her, whether with
imprisonment or stripes, the punishment is to be endured in
silence; and if she lead us to wounds or death in battle,
thither we follow as is right; neither may any one 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?
CRITO: I think that they do.
SOCRATES: Then the laws will say: ‘Consider,
Socrates, if we are speaking truly that in your present
attempt you are going to do us an injury. For, having
brought you into the world, and nurtured and educated you,
and given you and every other citizen a share in every good
which we had to give, we further proclaim to any Athenian
by the liberty which we allow him, that if he does not like
us when he has become 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. None of us laws will
forbid him or interfere with him. Any one who does
not like us and the city, and who wants to emigrate to a
colony or to any other city, may go where he likes,
retaining his property. 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 unjust;
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 now I ask, why I rather than anybody else? 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 (compare Phaedr.).
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
favourites, and you acquiesced in our government of you;
and here in this city you begat your children, which is a
proof of your satisfaction. Moreover, you might in
the course of the trial, if you had liked, have fixed the
penalty at banishment; the state which refuses to let you
go now would have let you go then. But you pretended
that you preferred death to exile (compare Apol.), and that
you were not unwilling to die. 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, Crito? Must we not assent?
CRITO: We cannot help it, Socrates.
SOCRATES: 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 after you have 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, both which states are often praised by you 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 (and who would care about a state which 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 neighbouring cities, as, for example, Thebes or
Megara, both of which are well governed, 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 a 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 licence, they will be charmed to hear 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 manner is of
runaways; but will there be no one to remind you that in
your old age you were not ashamed to violate 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? Say that you
wish to live for the sake of your children-you want to
bring them up and educate them-will you take them into
Thessaly and deprive them of Athenian citizenship? Is
this the benefit which you will 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 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 that they will not take care
of them? Nay; but if they who call themselves friends
are good for anything, they will-to be sure they 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 of all 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, dear Crito, 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 may say will be
vain. Yet speak, if you have anything to say.
CRITO: I have nothing to say, Socrates.
SOCRATES: Leave me then, Crito, to fulfil the will of
God, and to follow whither he leads.