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The Dialogues of Plato (428/27 - 348/47 BCE)
Translated by Benjamin Jowett
Etexts prepared for this edition by Antonio Gonzalez Fernandez
CHAPTER 8. Crito: the text
PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE: Socrates, Crito.
SCENE: The Prison of Socrates.
SOCRATES: Why have you come at this hour, Crito? It must be quite early.
CRITO: Yes, certainly.
SOCRATES: What is the exact time?
CRITO: The dawn is breaking.
SOCRATES: I wonder that the keeper of the prison would let you in.
CRITO: He knows me because I often come, Socrates; moreover. I have done him a kindness.
SOCRATES: And are you only just arrived?
CRITO: No, I came some time ago.
SOCRATES: Then why did you sit and say nothing, instead of at once awakening me?
CRITO: I should not have liked myself, Socrates, to be in such great trouble and unrest as you are-indeed I
should not: I have been watching with amazement your peaceful slumbers; and for that reason I did not
awake you, because I wished to minimize the pain. I have always thought you to be of a happy disposition;
but never did I see anything like the easy, tranquil manner in which you bear this calamity.
SOCRATES: Why, Crito, when a man has reached my age he ought not to be repining at the approach of
death.
CRITO: And yet other old men find themselves in similar misfortunes, and age does not prevent them from
repining.
SOCRATES: That is true. But you have not told me why you come at this early hour.
CRITO: I come to bring you a message which is sad and painful; not, as I believe, to yourself, but to all of
us who are your friends, and saddest of all to me.
SOCRATES: What? Has the ship come from Delos, on the arrival of which I am to die?
CRITO: No, the ship has not actually arrived, but she will probably be here to-day, as persons who have
come from Sunium tell me that they have left her there; and therefore to-morrow, Socrates, will be the last
day of your life.
SOCRATES: Very well, Crito; if such is the will of God, I am willing; but my belief is that there will be a
delay of a day.
CRITO: Why do you think so?
SOCRATES: I will tell you. I am to die on the day after the arrival of the ship?
CRITO: Yes; that is what the authorities say.
SOCRATES: But I do not think that the ship will be here until to-morrow; this I infer from a vision which I
had last night, or rather only just now, when you fortunately allowed me to sleep.
CRITO: And what was the nature of the vision?
SOCRATES: There appeared to me the likeness of a woman, fair and comely, clothed in bright raiment,
who called to me and said: O Socrates, ‘The third day hence to fertile Phthia shalt thou go.’ (Homer, Il.)
CRITO: What a singular dream, Socrates!
SOCRATES: There can be no doubt about the meaning, Crito, I think.
CRITO: Yes; the meaning is only too clear. But, oh! my beloved Socrates, let me entreat you once more to
take my advice and escape. For if you die I shall not only lose a friend who can never be replaced, but there
is another evil: people who do not know you and me will believe that I might have saved you if I had been
willing to give money, but that I did not care. Now, can there be a worse disgrace than this-that I should be
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thought to value money more than the life of a friend? For the many will not be persuaded that I wanted you
to escape, and that you refused.
SOCRATES: But why, my dear Crito, should we care about the opinion of the many? Good men, and they
are the only persons who are worth considering, will think of these things truly as they occurred.
CRITO: But you see, Socrates, that the opinion of the many must be regarded, for what is now happening
shows that they can do the greatest evil to any one who has lost their good opinion.
SOCRATES: I only wish it were so, Crito; and that the many could do the greatest evil; for then they would
also be able to do the greatest good - and what a fine thing this would be! But in reality they can do neither;
for they cannot make a man either wise or foolish; and whatever they do is the result of chance.
CRITO: Well, I will not dispute with you; but please to tell me, Socrates, whether you are not acting out of
regard to me and your other friends: are you not afraid that if you escape from prison we may get into
trouble with the informers for having stolen you away, and lose either the whole or a great part of our
property; or that even a worse evil may happen to us? Now, if you fear on our account, be at ease; for in
order to save you, we ought surely to run this, or even a greater risk; be persuaded, then, and do as I say.
SOCRATES: Yes, Crito, that is one fear which you mention, but by no means the only one.
CRITO: Fear not-there are persons who are willing to get you out of prison at no great cost; and as for the
informers they are far from being exorbitant in their demands-a little money will satisfy them. My means,
which are certainly ample, are at your service, and if you have a scruple about spending all mine, here are
strangers who will give you the use of theirs; and one of them, Simmias the Theban, has brought a large sum
of money for this very purpose; and Cebes and many others are prepared to spend their money in helping
you to escape. I say, therefore, do not hesitate on our account, and do not say, as you did in the court, that
you will have a difficulty in knowing what to do with yourself anywhere else. For men will love you in other
places to which you may go, and not in Athens only; there are friends of mine in Thessaly, if you like to go
to them, who will value and protect you, and no Thessalian will give you any trouble. Nor can I think that
you are at all justified, Socrates, in betraying your own life when you might be saved; in acting thus you are
playing into the hands of your enemies, who are hurrying on your destruction. And further I should say that
you are deserting your own children; for you might bring them up and educate them; instead of which you
go away and leave them, and they will have to take their chance; and if they do not meet with the usual fate
of orphans, there will be small thanks to you. No man should bring children into the world who is unwilling
to persevere to the end in their nurture and education. But you appear to be choosing the easier part, not the
better and manlier, which would have been more becoming in one who professes to care for virtue in all his
actions, like yourself. And indeed, I am ashamed not only of you, but of us who are your friends, when I
reflect that the whole business will be attributed entirely to our want of courage. The trial need never have
come on, or might have been managed differently; and this last act, or crowning folly, will seem to have
occurred through our negligence and cowardice, who might have saved you, if we had been good for
anything; and you might have saved yourself, for there was no difficulty at all. See now, Socrates, how sad
and discreditable are the consequences, both to us and you. Make up your mind then, or rather have your
mind already made up, for the time of deliberation is over, and there is only one thing to be done, which
must be done this very night, and if we delay at all will be no longer practicable or possible; I beseech you
therefore, Socrates, be persuaded by me, and do as I say.
SOCRATES: Dear Crito, your zeal is invaluable, if a right one; but if wrong, the greater the zeal the greater
the danger; and therefore we ought to consider whether I shall or shall not do as you say. For I am and
always have been one of those natures who must be guided by reason, whatever the reason may be which
upon reflection appears to me to be the best; and now that this chance has befallen me, I cannot repudiate my
own words: the principles which I have hitherto honoured and revered I still honour, and unless we can at
once find other and better principles, I am certain not to agree with you; no, not even if the power of the
multitude could inflict many more imprisonments, confiscations, deaths, frightening us like children with
hobgoblin terrors. What will be the fairest way of considering the question? Shall I return to your old
argument about the opinions of men? We were saying that some of them are to be regarded, and others not.
Now were we right in maintaining this before I was condemned? And has the argument which was once
good now proved to be talk for the sake of talking-mere childish nonsense? That is what I want to consider
with your help, Crito:–whether, under my present circumstances, the argument appears to be in any way
different or not; and is to be allowed by me or disallowed. That argument, which, as I believe, is maintained
by many persons of authority, was to the effect, as I was saying, that the opinions of some men are to be
regarded, and of other men not to be regarded. Now you, Crito, are not going to die to-morrow-at least, there
is no human probability of this, and therefore you are disinterested and not liable to be deceived by the
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circumstances in which you are placed. Tell me then, whether I am right in saying that some opinions, and
the opinions of some men only, are to be valued, and that other opinions, and the opinions of other men, are
not to be valued. I ask you whether I was right in maintaining this?
CRITO: Certainly.
SOCRATES: The good are to be regarded, and not the bad?
CRITO: Yes.
SOCRATES: And the opinions of the wise are good, and the opinions of the unwise are evil?
CRITO: Certainly.
SOCRATES: And what was said about another matter? Is the pupil who devotes himself to the practice of
gymnastics supposed to attend to the praise and blame and opinion of every man, or of one man only-his
physician or trainer, whoever he may be?
CRITO: Of one man only.
SOCRATES: And he ought to fear the censure and welcome the praise of that one only, and not of the
many?
CRITO: Clearly so.
SOCRATES: And he ought to act and train, and eat and drink in the way which seems good to his single
master who has understanding, rather than according to the opinion of all other men put together?
CRITO: True.
SOCRATES: And if he disobeys and disregards the opinion and approval of the one, and regards the opinion
of the many who have no understanding, will he not suffer evil?
CRITO: Certainly he will.
SOCRATES: And what will the evil be, whither tending and what affecting, in the disobedient person?
CRITO: Clearly, affecting the body; that is what is destroyed by the evil.
SOCRATES: Very good; and is not this true, Crito, of other things which we need not separately enumerate?
In questions of just and unjust, fair and foul, good and evil, which are the subjects of our present
consultation, ought we to follow the opinion of the many and to fear them; or the opinion of the one man
who has understanding? ought we not to fear and reverence him more than all the rest of the world: and if
we desert him shall we not destroy and injure that principle in us which may be assumed to be improved by
justice and deteriorated by injustice;–there is such a principle?
CRITO: Certainly there is, Socrates.
SOCRATES: Take a parallel instance:–if, acting under the advice of those who have no understanding, we
destroy that which is improved by health and is deteriorated by disease, would life be worth having? And
that which has been destroyed is-the body?
CRITO: Yes.
SOCRATES: Could we live, having an evil and corrupted body?
CRITO: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: And will life be worth having, if that higher part of man be destroyed, which is improved by
justice and depraved by injustice? Do we suppose that principle, whatever it may be in man, which has to do
with justice and injustice, to be inferior to the body?
CRITO: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: More honourable than the body?
CRITO: Far more.
SOCRATES: Then, my friend, we must not regard what the many say of us: but what he, the one man who
has understanding of just and unjust, will say, and what the truth will say. And therefore you begin in error
when you advise that we should regard the opinion of the many about just and unjust, good and evil,
honorable and dishonorable.-‘Well,’ some one will say, ‘but the many can kill us.’
CRITO: Yes, Socrates; that will clearly be the answer.
SOCRATES: And it is true; but still I find with surprise that the old argument is unshaken as ever. And I
should like to know whether I may say the same of another proposition-that not life, but a good life, is to be
chiefly valued?
CRITO: Yes, that also remains unshaken.
SOCRATES: And a good life is equivalent to a just and honorable one-that holds also?
CRITO: Yes, it does.
SOCRATES: From these premisses I proceed to argue the question whether I ought or ought not to try and
escape without the consent of the Athenians: and if I am clearly right in escaping, then I will make the
attempt; but if not, I will abstain. The other considerations which you mention, of money and loss of
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character and the duty of educating one’s children, are, I fear, only the doctrines of the multitude, who
would be as ready to restore people to life, if they were able, as they are to put them to death-and with as
little reason. But now, since the argument has thus far prevailed, the only question which remains to be
considered is, whether we shall do rightly either in escaping or in suffering others to aid in our escape and
paying them in money and thanks, or whether in reality we shall not do rightly; and if the latter, then death
or any other calamity which may ensue on my remaining here must not be allowed to enter into the
calculation.
CRITO: I think that you are right, Socrates; how then shall we proceed?
SOCRATES: Let us consider the matter together, and do you either refute me if you can, and I will be
convinced; or else cease, my dear friend, from repeating to me that I ought to escape against the wishes of
the Athenians: for I highly value your attempts to persuade me to do so, but I may not be persuaded against
my own better judgment. And now please to consider my first position, and try how you can best answer me.
CRITO: I will.
SOCRATES: Are we to say that we are never intentionally to do wrong, or that in one way we ought and in
another way we ought not to do wrong, or is doing wrong always evil and dishonorable, as I was just now
saying, and as has been already acknowledged by us? Are all our former admissions which were made
within a few days to be thrown away? And have we, at our age, been earnestly discoursing with one another
all our life long only to discover that we are no better than children? Or, in spite of the opinion of the many,
and in spite of consequences whether better or worse, shall we insist on the truth of what was then said, that
injustice is always an evil and dishonour to him who acts unjustly? Shall we say so or not?
CRITO: Yes.
SOCRATES: Then we must do no wrong?
CRITO: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: Nor when injured injure in return, as the many imagine; for
we must injure no one at all?
CRITO: Clearly not.
SOCRATES: Again, Crito, may we do evil?
CRITO: Surely not, Socrates.
SOCRATES: And what of doing evil in return for evil, which is the morality of the many-is that just or not?
CRITO: Not just.
SOCRATES: For doing evil to another is the same as injuring him?
CRITO: Very true.
SOCRATES: Then we ought not to retaliate or render evil for evil to any one, whatever evil we may have
suffered from him. But I would have you consider, Crito, whether you really mean what you are saying. For
this opinion has never been held, and never will be held, by any considerable number of persons; and those
who are agreed and those who are not agreed upon this point have no common ground, and can only despise
one another when they see how widely they differ. Tell me, then, whether you agree with and assent to my
first principle, that neither injury nor retaliation nor warding off evil by evil is ever right. And shall that be
the premiss of our argument? Or do you decline and dissent from this? For so I have ever thought, and
continue to think; but, if you are of another opinion, let me hear what you have to say. If, however, you
remain of the same mind as formerly, I will proceed to the next step.
CRITO: You may proceed, for I have not changed my mind.
SOCRATES: Then I will go on to the next point, which may be put in the form of a question:–Ought a man
to do what he admits to be right, or ought he to betray the right?
CRITO: He ought to do what he thinks right.
SOCRATES: But if this is true, what is the application? In leaving the prison against the will of the
Athenians, do I wrong any? Or rather do I not wrong those whom I ought least to wrong? Do I not desert the
principles which were acknowledged by us to be just? What do you say?
CRITO: I cannot tell, Socrates, for I do not know.
SOCRATES: Then consider the matter in this way:–Imagine that I am about to play truant (you may call the
proceeding by any name which you like), and the laws and the government come and interrogate me: ‘Tell
us, Socrates,’ they say; ‘what are you about?Are you not going by an act of yours to overturn us- the laws,
and the whole state, as far as in you lies? Do you imagine that a state can subsist and not be overthrown, in
which the decisions of law have no power, but are set aside and trampled upon by individuals?’ What will be
our answer, Crito, to these and the like words? Any one, and especially a rhetorician, will have a good deal
to say on behalf of the law which requires a sentence to be carried out. He will argue that this law should not
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be set aside; and shall we reply, ‘Yes; but the state has injured us and given an unjust sentence.’ Suppose I
say that?
CRITO: Very good, Socrates.
SOCRATES: ‘And was that our agreement with you?’ the law would answer; ‘or were you to abide by the
sentence of the state?’ And if I were to express my astonishment at their words, the law would probably add:
‘Answer, Socrates, instead of opening your eyes-you are in the habit of asking and answering questions. Tell
us,–What complaint have you to make against us which justifies you in attempting to destroy us and the
state? In the first place did we not bring you into existence? Your father married your mother by our aid and
begat you. Say whether you have any objection to urge against those of us who regulate marriage?’ None, I
should reply. ‘Or against those of us who after birth regulate the nurture and education of children, in which
you also were trained? Were not the laws, which have the charge of education, right in commanding your
father to train you in music and gymnastic?’ Right, I should reply. ‘Well then, since you were brought into
the world and nurtured and educated by us, can you deny in the first place that you are our child and slave,
as your fathers were before you? And if this is true you are not on equal terms with us; nor can you think
that you have a right to do to us what we are doing to you. Would you have any right to strike or revile or do
any other evil to your father or your master, if you had one, because you have been struck or reviled by him,
or received some other evil at his hands?–you would not say this? And because we think right to destroy
you, do you think that you have any right to destroy us in return, and your country as far as in you lies? Will
you, O professor of true virtue, pretend that you are justified in this? Has a philosopher like you failed to
discover that our country is more to be valued and higher and holier far than mother or father or any
ancestor, and more to be regarded in the eyes of the gods and of men of understanding? also to be soothed,
and gently and reverently entreated when angry, even more than a father, and either to be persuaded, or if
not persuaded, to be obeyed? And when we are punished by her, whether with imprisonment or stripes, the
punishment is to be endured in silence; and if she lead us to wounds or death in battle, thither we follow as is
right; neither may any one yield or retreat or leave his rank, but whether in battle or in a court of law, or in
any other place, he must do what his city and his country order him; or he must change their view of what is
just: and if he may do no violence to his father or mother, much less may he do violence to his country.’
What answer shall we make to this, Crito? Do the laws speak truly, or do they not?
CRITO: I think that they do.
SOCRATES: Then the laws will say: ‘Consider, Socrates, if we are speaking truly that in your present
attempt you are going to do us an injury. For, having brought you into the world, and nurtured and educated
you, and given you and every other citizen a share in every good which we had to give, we further proclaim
to any Athenian by the liberty which we allow him, that if he does not like us when he has become of age
and has seen the ways of the city, and made our acquaintance, he may go where he pleases and take his
goods with him. None of us laws will forbid him or interfere with him. Any one who does not like us and the
city, and who wants to emigrate to a colony or to any other city, may go where he likes, retaining his
property. But he who has experience of the manner in which we order justice and administer the state, and
still remains, has entered into an implied contract that he will do as we command him. And he who disobeys
us is, as we maintain, thrice wrong: first, because in disobeying us he is disobeying his parents; secondly,
because we are the authors of his education; thirdly, because he has made an agreement with us that he will
duly obey our commands; and he neither obeys them nor convinces us that our commands are unjust; and we
do not rudely impose them, but give him the alternative of obeying or convincing us;–that is what we offer,
and he does neither. ‘These are the sort of accusations to which, as we were saying, you, Socrates, will be
exposed if you accomplish your intentions; you, above all other Athenians.’ Suppose now I ask, why I rather
than anybody else? They will justly retort upon me that I above all other men have acknowledged the
agreement. ‘There is clear proof,’ they will say, ‘Socrates, that we and the city were not displeasing to you.
Of all Athenians you have been the most constant resident in the city, which, as you never leave, you may be
supposed to love. For you never went out of the city either to see the games, except once when you went to
the Isthmus, or to any other place unless when you were on military service; nor did you travel as other men
do. Nor had you any curiosity to know other states or their laws: your affections did not go beyond us and
our state; we were your especial favourites, and you acquiesced in our government of you; and here in this
city you begat your children, which is a proof of your satisfaction. Moreover, you might in the course of the
trial, if you had liked, have fixed the penalty at banishment; the state which refuses to let you go now would
have let you go then. But you pretended that you preferred death to exile, and that you were not unwilling to
die. And now you have forgotten these fine sentiments, and pay no respect to us the laws, of whom you are
the destroyer; and are doing what only a miserable slave would do, running away and turning your back
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upon the compacts and agreements which you made as a citizen. And first of all answer this very question:
Are we right in saying that you agreed to be governed according to us in deed, and not in word only? Is that
true or not?’ How shall we answer, Crito? Must we not assent?
CRITO: We cannot help it, Socrates.
SOCRATES: Then will they not say: ‘You, Socrates, are breaking the covenants and agreements which you
made with us at your leisure, not in any haste or under any compulsion or deception, but after you have had
seventy years to think of them, during which time you were at liberty to leave the city, if we were not to
your mind, or if our covenants appeared to you to be unfair. You had your choice, and might have gone
either to Lacedaemon or Crete, both which states are often praised by you for their good government, or to
some other Hellenic or foreign state. Whereas you, above all other Athenians, seemed to be so fond of the
state, or, in other words, of us her laws (and who would care about a state which has no laws?), that you
never stirred out of her; the halt, the blind, the maimed, were not more stationary in her than you were. And
now you run away and forsake your agreements. Not so, Socrates, if you will take our advice; do not make
yourself ridiculous by escaping out of the city. ‘For just consider, if you transgress and err in this sort of
way, what good will you do either to yourself or to your friends? That your friends will be driven into exile
and deprived of citizenship, or will lose their property, is tolerably certain; and you yourself, if you fly to
one of the neighbouring cities, as, for example, Thebes or Megara, both of which are well governed, will
come to them as an enemy, Socrates, and their government will be against you, and all patriotic citizens will
cast an evil eye upon you as a subverter of the laws, and you will confirm in the minds of the judges the
justice of their own condemnation of you. For he who is a corrupter of the laws is more than likely to be a
corrupter of the young and foolish portion of mankind. Will you then flee from well-ordered cities and
virtuous men? And is existence worth having on these terms? Or will you go to them without shame, and
talk to them, Socrates? And what will you say to them? What you say here about virtue and justice and
institutions and laws being the best things among men? Would that be decent of you? Surely not. But if you
go away from well-governed states to Crito’s friends in Thessaly, where there is great disorder and licence,
they will be charmed to hear the tale of your escape from prison, set off with ludicrous particulars of the
manner in which you were wrapped in a goatskin or some other disguise, and metamorphosed as the manner
is of runaways; but will there be no one to remind you that in your old age you were not ashamed to violate
the most sacred laws from a miserable desire of a little more life? Perhaps not, if you keep them in a good
temper; but if they are out of temper you will hear many degrading things; you will live, but how?–as the
flatterer of all men, and the servant of all men; and doing what?–eating and drinking in Thessaly, having
gone abroad in order that you may get a dinner. And where will be your fine sentiments about justice and
virtue? Say that you wish to live for the sake of your children-you want to bring them up and educate them-
will you take them into Thessaly and deprive them of Athenian citizenship? Is this the benefit which you
will confer upon them? Or are you under the impression that they will be better cared for and educated here
if you are still alive, although absent from them; for your friends will take care of them? Do you fancy that if
you are an inhabitant of Thessaly they will take care of them, and if you are an inhabitant of the other world
that they will not take care of them? Nay; but if they who call themselves friends are good for anything, they
will-to be sure they will. ‘Listen, then, Socrates, to us who have brought you up. Think not of life and
children first, and of justice afterwards, but of justice first, that you may be justified before the princes of the
world below. For neither will you nor any that belong to you be happier or holier or juster in this life, or
happier in another, if you do as Crito bids. Now you depart in innocence, a sufferer and not a doer of evil; a
victim, not of the laws, but of men. But if you go forth, returning evil for evil, and injury for injury, breaking
the covenants and agreements which you have made with us, and wronging those whom you ought least of
all to wrong, that is to say, yourself, your friends, your country, and us, we shall be angry with you while
you live, and our brethren, the laws in the world below, will receive you as an enemy; for they will know
that you have done your best to destroy us. Listen, then, to us and not to Crito.’ This, dear Crito, is the voice
which I seem to hear murmuring in my ears, like the sound of the flute in the ears of the mystic; that voice, I
say, is humming in my ears, and prevents me from hearing any other. And I know that anything more which
you may say will be vain. Yet speak, if you have anything to say.
CRITO: I have nothing to say, Socrates.
SOCRATES: Leave me then, Crito, to fulfil the will of God, and to follow whither he leads.