Crito

By Plato

Written 360 B.C.E

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.

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. 


THE END