Introduction

The days of Socrates are drawing to a close; the fatal ship 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 for ever 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’ life is nearing its end. The ship that signals his death has been spotted off Sunium. His old friend Crito, who is elderly and the same age as Socrates, brings him the news before dawn. Socrates himself has been warned in a dream that he must depart on the third day. Time is precious, and Crito has come early to persuade Socrates to agree to an escape plan. His friends can easily arrange the escape and will face no danger in trying to save him. But his friends will be disgraced forever if they let him die. Socrates should think of his duty to his children and not give his enemies what they want. Crito, Simmias, and others have already provided money. Socrates will have no trouble finding friends in Thessaly and elsewhere.

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, in other words, a just and honourable 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 disinterested 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 circumstances 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 fears that Crito is merely urging him to follow the opinions of the majority. Yet all his life, Socrates has followed only reason and the judgment of the one wise or skilled person. Crito himself once agreed that this was the right approach. And although someone may say ‘the many can kill us,’ that makes no difference. Only a good life, meaning a just and honorable life, is worth valuing. All concerns about losing his reputation or harming his children should be set aside. The only question is whether trying to escape would be right. Crito should answer this question for Socrates, since Crito is impartial and does not face the fear of death. Before Socrates was condemned, he and Crito had often discussed these matters. They agreed that no one should do wrong, repay wrong with wrong, or abandon what is right. Should these principles change because Socrates’ circumstances have changed? Crito admits that the principles remain the same. Then would escaping be consistent with upholding these principles? Crito is unable or unwilling to answer this question.

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 agreement, which he cannot now break without dishonour 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 consider him as an enemy. Possibly in a land of misrule like Thessaly he may be welcomed at first, and the unseemly narrative of his escape will be 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 because he is in Thessaly? Will not true friends care for them equally whether he is alive or dead?

Socrates continues: Suppose the Laws of Athens came to challenge him. The Laws would ask, ‘Why does he seek to overthrow them?’ And if he replies, ‘They have wronged him,’ would the Laws not answer, ‘Yes, but was that the agreement? Does he have any complaint against them that would justify overthrowing them? Did the Laws not help bring him into the world and educate him? Are the Laws not his parents? He could have left Athens and gone wherever he pleased. But he has lived there for seventy years, more continuously than any other citizen.’ So he has clearly shown that he accepted the agreement. He cannot now break the agreement without dishonoring himself and endangering his friends. Even during the trial, he could have proposed exile as his punishment. But he declared then that he preferred death to exile. And where will he go? In any well-governed state, the Laws will regard him as an enemy. Perhaps in a lawless place like Thessaly, he may be welcomed at first. The people there will find the shameful story of his escape amusing. But if he offends them, he will have a different kind of lesson to learn. Will he keep lecturing about virtue? That would hardly be proper. And how will his children benefit if he takes them to Thessaly and deprives them of Athenian citizenship? Or if he leaves his children behind, does he expect his friends to care for them better because he is in Thessaly? Will true friends not care for his children equally well 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.

Finally, they urge him to put justice first, and life and children second. He may now leave in peace and innocence, having suffered evil but done none himself. But if he breaks his agreements and repays evil with evil, they will be angry with him throughout his life. And their fellow Laws in the world below will welcome him as an enemy. Such is the mysterious voice that 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 Charmides, 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 conciliate 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.

Socrates was accused during his lifetime of being a bad citizen. The accusation has often been repeated in later ages. The restored democracy still had fresh memories of the crimes of Alcibiades, Critias, and Charmides, who had been his pupils. Socrates had remained neutral during Athens’s struggle for survival, which was unlikely to win him public goodwill. Plato, probably writing in the next generation, sets out to defend his friend and teacher against this accusation. His defense is addressed not to the Athenians of his day, but to future generations and the wider world.

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; [^1] 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 [^2] 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 rhetorician would have had much to say upon that point.’ It may be observed however that Plato never intended 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 his master maintaining in death the opinions which he had professed in his life. Not ‘the world,’ but the ‘one wise man,’ is still the paradox of Socrates in his last hours. He must be guided by reason, although her conclusions may be fatal to him. The remarkable sentiment that the wicked can do neither good nor evil is true, if taken in the sense, which he means, of moral evil; in his own words, ‘they cannot make a man wise or foolish.’

Whether Crito really visited Socrates and proposed an escape is uncertain. Plato could easily have invented far more than that. [^1] And choosing Crito, the elderly friend, as the best person to make the proposal seems to reveal the artist’s touch. Experts in moral reasoning might disagree about whether someone unjustly condemned under their country’s laws is right to escape. Shelley [^2] believes that Socrates ‘did well to die,’ but not for the ‘sophistical’ reasons Plato gives him. And one could easily argue that Socrates should have lived. He should have chosen the good he could still do over a glorious death. ‘A skilled speaker would have had much to say on that point.’ However, Plato never intended to settle this moral question. He meant only to portray an ideal of patient virtue that refuses the smallest wrong to avoid the greatest evil. He also meant to show his master upholding in death the views he had defended throughout his life. Even in his last hours, Socrates maintains his paradox: listen not to ‘the world,’ but to the ‘one wise man.’ He must follow reason, although its conclusions may lead to his death. His striking claim that the wicked can do neither good nor evil is true if understood as he intends. He means moral evil. In his own words, ‘they cannot make a man wise or foolish.’