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The Internet Wiretap Edition of

CRITO, by PLATO.

Translated by BENJAMIN JOWETT.

From DIALOGUES OF PLATO, New York, P.F. Collier & Son.
Copyright 1900 The Colonial Press.

This was scanned from the 1900 edition and mechanically
checked against a commercial copy of Crito from CDROM.
Differences were corrected against the paper edition. The
text itself is thus a highly accurate rendition.

This text is in the PUBLIC DOMAIN, released August 1993.


INTRODUCTION TO CRITO (by Benjamin Jowett)

  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 [1] 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 forever 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 someone will say
"The many can kill us," that makes no difference; but a good
life, that is to say a just and honorable 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 dis-
interested 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 circum-
stances 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 agree-
ment which he cannot now break without dishonor 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 con-
sider him as an enemy. Possibly in a land of misrule like
Thessaly he may be welcomed at first, and the unseemly narra-
tive of his escape 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 be-
cause 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 Char-
mides, 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 con-
ciliate 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; 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 anyone 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 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 skil-
ful rhetorician would have had much to say about that"
(50 C). It may be remarked, however, that Plato never in-
tended 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 Socrates, his
master, maintaining in death the opinions which he had pro-
fessed in his life. Not "the world," but the "one wise man,"
is still the philosopher's paradox in his last hours.

[1] The sacred ship, during whose thirty days' voyage to and from the
oracle at Delos no Athenian citizen could be put to death.



                  C R I T O ;

           OR, THE DUTY OF A CITIZEN

     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 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." 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 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 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.]