Crito
By Plato
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