The Last Days of Socrates

by Plato

  CRITO: Indeed it is.

  SOCRATES: About what time?

  CRITO: Just before dawn.

  SOCRATES: I wonder that the warder agreed to listen to you.

  CRITO: He is used to me now, Socrates, because I come here so often;1 besides, he is under some small obligation to me.2

  SOCRATES: Have you only just come, or have you been here for long?

  CRITO: Quite a while.

  SOCRATES: Then why didn’t you wake me at once, instead of (b) sitting in silence by my bed?

  CRITO: I wouldn’t dream of such a thing, Socrates. I only wish I were not so sleepless and depressed myself. I have been marvelling at you all along, seeing how sweetly you were sleeping; and I deliberately didn’t wake you because I wanted you to have the pleasantest possible time. I have often felt throughout my life how fortunate you are in the way you handle things, but I feel it more than ever now in your present misfortune when I see how easy it is for you to take it calmly.

  SOCRATES: Well, really, Crito, it would strike an odd chord for a man of my age to resent having to face death.

  (c) CRITO: Other people just as old as you are get involved in these misfortunes, Socrates, but their age doesn’t alleviate their resentment when they find themselves in your position.

  SOCRATES: Quite true. But tell me, why have you come so early?

  CRITO: Because I bring bad news, Socrates; not so bad from your point of view, I suppose, but it will be very hard to bear for me and your other friends, and I suspect that I shall find it hardest of all.

  SOCRATES: Why, what is this news? Has the boat come in from (d) Delos – the boat which ends my reprieve when it arrives?3

  CRITO: It hasn’t actually come in yet, but I expect that it will be here today, judging by what some people report – they have just arrived from Sunium4 and left it there. It’s quite clear from their account that it will be here today; and so by tomorrow, Socrates, you will be forced to end your life.

  SOCRATES: Well, Crito, I hope that it’ll be for the best; if that’s what the gods want, so be it. All the same, I don’t think it will arrive today.

  44(a) CRITO: What makes you believe that?

  SOCRATES: I will try to explain. I think I am right in saying that I have to die on the day after the boat arrives?

  CRITO: Yes, that’s what the authorities say.

  SOCRATES: Then I don’t think it will arrive on this day that is just beginning, but on the day after. I am going by a dream that I had this very night, only a little while ago. It looks as though you were right not to wake me up.

  CRITO: Why, what was the dream about?

  SOCRATES: I thought I saw a gloriously beautiful woman (b) dressed in white robes, who came up to me and addressed me in these words: ‘Socrates, “To the pleasant land of Phthia on the third day thou shalt come”.’5

  CRITO: Your dream was a weird one, Socrates.

  SOCRATES: To my mind, Crito, it was perfectly clear.

  Crito’s arguments. Crito believes that Socrates should escape because (i) he is endangering the good reputation of his friends, (ii) he need not worry about any risks these friends may be running, (iii) nor should he worry about the money needed for an escape attempt, (iv) there will be good places to go to, where he can lead an enjoyable life, (v) he is acting unjustly by joining the efforts of his enemies against himself, (vi) he is acting unjustly by not striving to fulfil his obligations to his children, and (vii) it amounts to cowardice to accept this situation without resistance. Finally Crito returns to theme (i), observing that the cowardice is going to reflect badly on Socrates’ friends as well as himself.

  CRITO: Too clear, apparently. But look here, Socrates, it is still not too late to take my advice and escape. Your death means a double calamity for me: quite apart from losing a friend whom I can never possibly replace, I’ll have this additional problem, that a great many people who don’t know you and me very well will think that I let you down, saying that I could (c) have saved you if I had been willing to spend the money; and what could be more shameful than to get a name for thinking more of money than of your friends? Most people will never believe that it was you who refused to leave this place when we tried our hardest to persuade you.

  SOCRATES: But my dear Crito, why should we pay so much attention to what ‘most people’ think? The most sensible people,6 who have more claim to be considered, will believe that things have been done exactly as they have.

  CRITO: As you can see for yourself, Socrates, one is obliged to (d) bear in mind popular opinion as well. Present circumstances are quite enough to show that the capacity of ordinary people for doing one harm is not confined to petty annoyances, but has hardly any limits if you once get a bad name with them.

  SOCRATES: I only wish that ordinary people had an unlimited capacity for doing harm; that would mean they had an unlimited power for doing good,7 which would be a splendid thing. In actual fact they have neither. They cannot make a man wise or foolish;8 they achieve whatever luck would have it.

  (e) CRITO: Have it that way if you like; but tell me this, Socrates. I hope that you aren’t worrying about the possible effects on me and the rest of your friends, and thinking that if you escape we shall have trouble with informers for having helped you to get away, and have to forfeit all our property or pay an enormous fine, or even incur some further punishment? If any 45(a) idea like that is troubling you, dismiss it altogether. It’s surely right for us to run that risk in saving you, and even worse, if necessary. Take my advice, and do as I bid.

  SOCRATES: All that you say is very much in my mind, Crito, and a great deal more besides.

  CRITO: Please don’t be afraid of these things. Actually it’s quite a moderate sum that certain people want for rescuing you from here and getting you out of the country. And then surely you realize how cheap these informers are to buy off; we (b) wouldn’t need much money to settle them. You’ve got my money at your disposal – that’ll be enough, I think; but supposing that in your anxiety for my safety you feel that you oughtn’t to spend my money, there are these foreign gentlemen staying in Athens who are quite willing to spend theirs. One of them, Simmias of Thebes, has actually brought enough money with him for this very purpose; and Cebes9 and a number of others are quite ready to do the same. So as I say, you mustn’t let any fears like this make you dispirited about escaping; and you mustn’t feel any misgivings like those you mentioned at your trial, that you wouldn’t know what (c) to do with yourself if you left this country. Wherever you go, there are plenty of places where you will find a welcome, particularly if you choose to go to Thessaly – I have friends there who will make much of you and give you complete protection, so that no one in Thessaly can interfere with you.

  Besides, Socrates, I don’t even feel that it is just for you to do what you are doing, throwing away your life when you might save it. You are doing your best to treat yourself in exactly the same way as your enemies would, or rather did, when they wanted to ruin you. What is more, it seems to me that you are betraying your sons too. You have it in your (d) power to finish bringing them up and educating them, and instead of that you’re proposing to go off and desert them, and so far as you are concerned they’ll be left to get along as the whim of fortune determines. They will probably have the kind of luck that usually comes to orphans when they lose their parents. Either one ought not to have children at all, or one ought to see their upbringing and education through to the end, but it strikes me that you are taking the most irresponsible course. You ought to make the choice of a good man and a brave one, considering that you profess to have made goodness your principal concern all through life. (e)Really, I am ashamed, both on your account and on ours your friends’; it will look as though we had played something like a coward’s part all through this affair of yours. First there was the way you came into court when it was quite unnecessary – that was the first act; then there was the conduct of the defence – that was the second; and finally, to complete the farce, we get
this situation, which makes it appear that we have let you slip out of our hands through some lack of courage and 46(a) enterprise on our part, because we didn’t save you, and you didn’t save yourself, when it would have been quite possible and practicable, if we had been any use at all.

  There, Socrates; if you aren’t careful, besides the harm there will be all this disgrace for you and us to bear.10 Come, make your plans. Really it’s past the time for that now; the decision should have been made already. There is only one plan – the whole thing must be carried through during this coming night. If we lose any more time, it can’t be done, it will be too late. I appeal to you, Socrates, on every ground; take my advice and please do as I say!

  Socrates begins his reply by going over long-standing points of Socratic philosophy. (i) One should always take expert advice rather than majority advice, (ii) since the soul is more important than the body, this applies particularly in matters concerned with the well-being of the soul, and (iii) one should never under any circumstances commit an act of injustice. Points (i) and (ii) have the effect of answering more fully Crito’s complaints that the ordinary folk will blame Socrates’ friends for the disgraceful circumstances surrounding his death: for the moment, however, the question of where justice lies is left aside.

  (b) socrates: My dear Crito, I would greatly appreciate your enthusiasm if it is right and proper; if not, the stronger it is, the more of a problem it is. Therefore we should consider whether we ought to follow your advice or not; my attitude is not unprecedented, for it’s always been my nature never to accept advice from any of my ‘friends’11 except the argument that seems best on reflection. I cannot abandon the arguments which I used to expound in the past12 simply because this accident has happened to me; their conclusions seem to me to (c) be much as they were, and I respect and value the same arguments now as before. So unless we can find better ones on this occasion, you can be quite sure that I shall not agree with you; not even if the power of the people conjures up fresh hordes of bogies to terrify our childish minds, by subjecting us to chains and executions and confiscations of our property.

  Well, then, how can we consider the question most reasonably? Suppose that we begin by reverting to your point about people’s opinions.13 Was it always right to argue that some (d) opinions should be taken seriously but not others? Or was it always wrong?14 Perhaps it was right before the question of my death arose, but now we can see clearly that we were pointlessly persisting in a theory which was really childish nonsense. I should like very much to inquire into this problem, Crito, with your help, and to see whether the argument will appear in any different light to me now that I am in this position, or whether it will remain the same;15 and whether we shall dismiss it or accept it.

  (e) People with something to say, I believe, have always stated some such view as the one which I mentioned just now: that some of the opinions which people entertain should be taken seriously, and others not. Now I ask you, Crito, don’t you think this is a fair proposition? – You are safe from the 47(a) prospect of dying tomorrow, in all human probability; and you are not likely to have your judgement upset by this impending calamity.16 Consider, then; don’t you think that it is good enough to say that one should not value all the opinions that people hold, but only some and not others? What do you say? Isn’t that a fair statement?

  CRITO: Fair enough.

  SOCRATES: In other words, one should regard the sound ones and not the flawed?

  CRITO: Yes.

  SOCRATES: The opinions of the wise being sound, and the opinions of the foolish flawed?

  CRITO: Naturally.

  SOCRATES: To pass on, then: what do you think of the sort of illustration that I used to employ? When a man is in training, (b) and taking it seriously, does he pay attention to all praise and criticism and opinion indiscriminately, or only when it comes from the one qualified person, the actual doctor or trainer?

  CRITO: Only when it comes from the one qualified person.

  SOCRATES: Then he should be afraid of the criticism and welcome the praise of the one qualified person, but not those of the general public.

  CRITO: Obviously.

  SOCRATES: So he ought to regulate his actions and exercises and eating and drinking by the judgement of his instructor, who has expert knowledge, rather than by the opinions of all the rest put together.

  CRITO: That is so.

  SOCRATES: Very well. Now if he disobeys the one man and (c) disregards his opinion and commendations, and prefers the advice of the many who have no expert knowledge, surely he will suffer some bad effect?

  CRITO: Certainly.

  SOCRATES: And what is this bad effect? Where is its impact? – I mean, in what part of the disobedient person?

  CRITO: His body, obviously; that is what’s ruined.

  SOCRATES: Very good. Well now, tell me, Crito – we don’t want to go through all the examples one by one – does this apply as a general rule, and above all to the issues which we are trying now to resolve: just and unjust, honourable and dishonourable, good and bad? Ought we to be guided and (d) intimidated by the opinion of the many or by that of the one – assuming that there is someone with expert knowledge? Is it true that we ought to respect and fear this person more than all the rest put together; and that if we do not follow his guidance we shall spoil and impair that part of us which, as we used to say, is improved by just conduct and ruined by unjust?17 Or is this all nonsense?

  CRITO: No, I think it is true, Socrates.

  SOCRATES: Then consider the next step. There is a part of us which is improved by healthy actions and ruined by unhealthy ones. If we completely wreck it by taking advice contrary to that of the experts, will life be worth living when this part is (e) once ruined? The part I mean is the body; do you accept this?

  CRITO: Yes.

  SOCRATES: Well, is life worth living with a body which is worn out and ruined?

  CRITO: Certainly not.

  SOCRATES: What about the part of us which is impaired by unjust actions and benefited by just ones? Is life worth living with this part ruined? Or do we believe that this part of us, whatever it may be, with which justice and injustice are 48(a) concerned, is of less importance than the body?

  CRITO: Certainly not.

  SOCRATES: It is really more precious?

  CRITO: Much more.

  SOCRATES: In that case, my dear fellow, what we ought to worry about is not so much what people in general will say about us but what the expert in justice and injustice18 says, the single authority and with him the truth itself. So in the first place your proposal is not well-founded when you claim that we must consider popular opinion about what is just and honourable and good, or the opposite. ‘But all the same,’ one might object, ‘the people have the power to put us to death.’19

  (b) CRITO: That’s clear enough! It would be said, Socrates; you’re quite right.

  SOCRATES: But so far as I can see, my dear fellow, the argument which we have just been through is quite unaffected by it. At the same time I should like you to consider whether we still agree on this point: that the really important thing is not to live, but to live well.

  CRITO: Agreed.

  SOCRATES: And is it still agreed or not that to live well amounts to the same thing as to live honourably and justly?

  CRITO: Yes.

  SOCRATES: Then in the light of this admission we must consider whether or not it is just for me to try to get away without being released by the Athenians. If it turns out to be just, we (c) must make the attempt; if not, we must drop it. As for the considerations you raise about expense and reputation and bringing up children, I am afraid, Crito, that these are the concerns of the ordinary public, who think nothing of putting people to death, and would bring them back to life if they could,20 with equal indifference to reason.21 Our real task, I fancy, since the argument leads that way, is to consider one question only, the one which we raised just now: shall we be (d) acting justly in paying money and showing gratitud
e to these people who are going to rescue me, and in escaping or arranging the escape ourselves, or shall we really be acting unjustly in doing all this? If it becomes clear that such conduct is unjust, I cannot help thinking that the question whether we are sure to die, or to suffer any other ill-effect for that matter, if we stand our ground and take no action, ought not to weigh with us at all in comparison with the risk of acting unjustly.

  CRITO: I agree with what you say, Socrates; now consider what we are to do.

  (e) SOCRATES: Let us look at it together, Crito; and if you can challenge any of my arguments, do so and I will listen to you; but if you can’t, be a good fellow and stop telling me over and over again that I ought to leave this place without official permission. I am very anxious to obtain your approval before I adopt the course which I have in mind; I don’t want to act against your convictions. Now give your attention to the starting point of this inquiry if you are happy with the way 49(a) I’ve put it, and try to answer my questions to the best of your judgement.

  CRITO: Well, I will try.

  SOCRATES: Do we say that there is no way that one must ever willingly commit injustice, or does it depend upon circumstance? Is it true, as we have often agreed before, that there is no sense in which an act of injustice is good or honourable? Or have we jettisoned all our former convictions in these last few days? Can you and I at our age, Crito, have spent all these (b) years in serious discussions without realizing that we were no better than a pair of children? Surely the truth is just what we have always said. Whatever the popular view is, and whether the consequence is pleasanter than this or even tougher, the fact remains that to commit injustice is in every case bad and dishonourable for the person who does it. Is that our view, or not?

  CRITO: Yes, it is.

  SOCRATES: Then in no circumstances must one do wrong.

  CRITO: No.

  SOCRATES: In that case one must not even return injustice when one is wronged, which most people regard as the natural course.