When he had done speaking,
Crito said: And have you any commands for us, Socrates--anything to say about
your children, or any other matter in which we can serve you?
Nothing particular, Crito, he
replied: only, as I have always told you, take care of yourselves; that is a
service which you may be ever rendering to me and mine and to all of us,
whether you promise to do so or not. But if you have no thought for yourselves,
and care not to walk according to the rule which I have prescribed for you, not
now for the first time, however much you may profess or promise at the moment,
it will be of no avail.
We will do our best, said
Crito: And in what way shall we bury you?
In any way that you like; but
you must get hold of me, and take care that I do not run away from you. Then he
turned to us, and added with a smile:--I cannot make Crito believe that I am
the same Socrates who have been talking and conducting the argument; he fancies
that I am the other Socrates whom he will soon see, a dead body--and he asks,
How shall he bury me? And though I have spoken many words in the endeavour to
show that when I have drunk the poison I shall leave you and go to the joys of
the blessed,--these words of mine, with which I was comforting you and myself,
have had, as I perceive, no effect upon Crito. And therefore I want you to be
surety for me to him now, as at the trial he was surety to the judges for me:
but let the promise be of another sort; for he was surety for me to the judges
that I would remain, and you must be my surety to him that I shall not remain,
but go away and depart; and then he will suffer less at my death, and not be
grieved when he sees my body being burned or buried. I would not have him
sorrow at my hard lot, or say at the burial. Thus we lay out Socrates, or, Thus
we follow him to the grave or bury him; for false words are not only evil in
themselves, but they infect the soul with evil. Be of good cheer, then, my dear
Crito, and say that you are burying my body only, and do with that whatever is
usual, and what you think best.
When he had spoken these words,
he arose and went into a chamber to bathe; Crito followed him and told us to
wait. So we remained behind, talking and thinking of the subject of discourse,
and also of the greatness of our sorrow; he was like a father of whom we were
being bereaved, and we were about to pass the rest of our lives as orphans. When
he had taken the bath his children were brought to him--(he had two young sons
and an elder one); and the women of his family also came, and he talked to them
and gave them a few directions in the presence of Crito; then he dismissed them
and returned to us.
Now the hour of sunset was
near, for a good deal of time had passed while he was within. When he came out,
he sat down with us again after his bath, but not much was said. Soon the
jailer, who was the servant of the Eleven, entered and stood by him,
saying:--To you, Socrates, whom I know to be the noblest and gentlest and best
of all who ever came to this place, I will not impute the angry feelings of
other men, who rage and swear at me, when, in obedience to the authorities, I
bid them drink the poison--indeed, I am sure that you will not be angry with
me; for others, as you are aware, and not I, are to blame. And so fare you
well, and try to bear lightly what must needs be--you know my errand. Then bursting
into tears he turned away and went out.
Socrates looked at him and
said: I return your good wishes, and will do as you bid. Then turning to us, he
said, How charming the man is: since I have been in prison he has always been
coming to see me, and at times he would talk to me, and was as good to me as
could be, and now see how generously he sorrows on my account. We must do as he
says, Crito; and therefore let the cup be brought, if the poison is prepared:
if not, let the attendant prepare some.
Yet, said Crito, the sun is
still upon the hill-tops, and I know that many a one has taken the draught
late, and after the announcement has been made to him, he has eaten and drunk,
and enjoyed the society of his beloved; do not hurry--there is time enough.
Socrates said: Yes, Crito, and
they of whom you speak are right in so acting, for they think that they will be
gainers by the delay; but I am right in not following their example, for I do
not think that I should gain anything by drinking the poison a little later; I
should only be ridiculous in my own eyes for sparing and saving a life which is
already forfeit. Please then to do as I say, and not to refuse me.
Crito made a sign to the
servant, who was standing by; and he went out, and having been absent for some
time, returned with the jailer carrying the cup of poison. Socrates said: You,
my good friend, who are experienced in these matters, shall give me directions
how I am to proceed. The man answered: You have only to walk about until your
legs are heavy, and then to lie down, and the poison will act. At the
same time he handed the cup to Socrates, who in the easiest and gentlest manner,
without the least fear or change of colour or feature, looking at the man with
all his eyes, Echecrates, as his manner was, took the cup and said: What do you
say about making a libation out of this cup to any god? May I, or not? The man
answered: We only prepare, Socrates, just so much as we deem enough. I
understand, he said: but I may and must ask the gods to prosper my journey from
this to the other world--even so--and so be it according to my prayer. Then
raising the cup to his lips, quite readily and cheerfully he drank off the
poison. And hitherto most of us had been able to control our sorrow; but now when we saw him drinking, and saw
too that he had finished the draught, we could no longer forbear, and in spite
of myself my own tears were flowing fast; so that I covered my face and wept, not for him,
but at the thought of my own calamity in having to part from such a friend.
Nor was I the first; for Crito, when he found himself unable to restrain his tears,
had got up, and I followed; and at that moment, Apollodorus, who had been
weeping all the time, broke out in a loud and passionate cry which made cowards
of us all. Socrates alone retained his calmness: What is this strange outcry?
he said. I sent away the women mainly in order that they might not misbehave in
this way, for I have been told that a man should die in peace. Be quiet, then,
and have patience. When we heard his words we were ashamed, and refrained our
tears; and he walked about until, as he said, his legs began to fail, and then
he lay on his back, according to the directions, and the man who gave him the
poison now and then looked at his feet and legs; and after a while he pressed his
foot hard, and asked him if he could feel; and he said, No; and then his leg,
and so upwards and upwards, and showed us that he was cold and stiff. And he
felt them himself, and said: When the poison reaches the heart, that will be
the end. He was beginning to grow cold about the groin, when he uncovered his
face, for he had covered himself up, and said--they were his last words--he
said: Crito, I owe a cock to Asclepius;
will you remember to pay the debt? The
debt shall be paid, said Crito; is there anything else? There was no answer to this
question; but in a minute or two a movement was heard, and the attendants
uncovered him; his eyes were set, and Crito closed his eyes and mouth.
Such was the end, Echecrates,
of our friend; concerning whom I may truly say, that of all the men of his time
whom I have known, he was the wisest and justest and best.
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