Or, On What is to be Done

Persons of the Dialogue: SOCRATES CRITO

Scene: -- The Prison of Socrates

Soc. 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; more-

over, 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 wonder-

ing 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 mis-

fortunes, 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 pain-

ful; 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 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 per-

sons 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 ser-

vice, 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 ac-

count 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 be-

traying 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 educa-

tion. 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 base-

ness, 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 disgrace-

ful, 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 per-

suaded 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 there-

fore 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, confis-

cations, 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 alto-

gether 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 opin-

ions 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 un-

derstanding, 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

affecting, 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 deterio-

rated 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 escap-

ing, 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, as

I hear, 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 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.

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 posi-

tion, 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 dis-

honorable, 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 argument? 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 for-

merly, 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 keep his just agreements, or may he violate them?

Cr. He ought to do what he agrees to do.

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." Sup-

pose I say that?

Cr. Very good, Socrates.

Soc. "And was that our agreement with you?" the law

would say; "or were you to abide by the sentence of the

State?" And if I were to express astonishment at their say-

ing 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 de-

stroy 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 rev-

erently 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 could, 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 agreement 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 alterna-

tive 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 agree-

ment. "There is clear proof," they will say, "Socrates, that

we and the city were not displeasing to you. Of all Athe-

nians 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, ex-

cept 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 special 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 break-

ing 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 neighbor-

ing 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 exist-

ence 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 vio-

lated 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 in-

nocence, 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 re-

ceive 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 may 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.

[End.]