"have employed, according to the custom, flattery and pathetic express"ions, and the timorous and creeping behaviour of a suppliant? But in "trials, as well as war, an honest man ought not to use all sorts of means "for the preservation of his life. It is equally dishonourable both in the one and the other, to ransom it only by prayers and tears, and all those "other abject methods you see every day practised by people in my pre"sent condition."

Apollodorus, who was one of his friends and disciples, having advanced to him to express his grief for his dying innocent; "What," replied he with a smile, "would you have had me die guilty."

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“* Plutarch, to show that only our weakest part, the body, is in the power of man, but that there is another infinitely more noble part of us entirely superior to their threats, and inaccessible to their inflictions, cites these admirable words of Socrates, which are more applicable to his judges than his accusers: Anytus and Melitus may kill me, but they "cannot hurt me :"- -as if he had said (in the language of the pagans,) Fortune may deprive me of my goods, my health, and my life; but I have a treasure within me of which no violence can deprive me; I mean virtue, innocence, fortitude and greatness of mind.

This great man,t fully convinced of the principle he had so often incul cated to his disciples, that guilt is the only evil a wise man ought to fear, chose rather to be deprived of some years which he might have to live, than to forfeit in an instant the glory of his whole past life, in dishonouring himself for ever by the shameful behaviour he was advised to observe with his judges. Seeing that his own times had but a slight knowledge of him, he referred himself from it to the judgment of posterity, and by the generous sacrifice of a very advanced life, acquired and assured to himself the esteem and admiration of all succeeding ages.

SECTION VII.

SOCRATES REFUSES TO ESCAPE OUT OF PRISON.-HE DRINKS THE POI

SON.

AFTER the sentence had been passed upon him, Socrates, with the same intrepid aspect with which he had held the tyrants in awe, went forward towards the prison, which lost that name, says Seneca, when he entered it, and became the residence of virtue and probity. His friends followed him thither, and continued to visit him during 30 days, which passed between his condemnation and death. The cause of that long delay was this: The Athenians sent every year a ship to the isle of Delos, to offer certain sacrifices; and it was prohibited to put any person to death in the city, from the time the priest of Apollo had crowned the poop of this vessel as a signal of its departure, till the same vessel should return: so that sentence having been passed upon Socrates the day after that cere

* De anim. tranquil. p. 475.

† Maluit vir sapientissimus quod superesset ex vita sibi perire, quam quod præterisset: et quando ab hominibus sui temporis parum intelligebatur, posterorum se judiciis reservavit, brevi detrimento jam ultimæ senectutis ævum seculorum emnium consecutis. Quint. 1. i. c. t.

Socrates eodem illo vultu, quo aliquando solus triginta tyrannos in ordinem redegerat, carcerem intravit, ignominiam ipsi loco detracturus. Neque enim poterat carcer videri, in quo Socrates erat. Senec. in consol. ad Helvet. c. xiii.

Socrates carcerem intrando purgavit, omnique honestiorem curia credidit. Id. de vit. beat. e. xxvii.

mony began, it was necessary to defer the execution of it for 30 days, during the continuance of this voyage.

In this long interval, death had sufficient opportunity to present itself before his eyes in all its terrors, and to put his constancy to the proof, not only by the severe rigour of a dungeon, and the irons upon his legs, but by the continual prospect and cruel expectation of anfevent, of which nature is always abhorrent.* In this sad condition he did not cease to enjoy that profound tranquillity of mind which his friends had always admired in him. He entertained them with the same temper he had always expressed; and Crito observes, that the evening before his death, he slept as peaceably as at any other time. He composed also an hymn in honour of Apollo and Diana, and turned one of Æsop's fables into verse.

The day before, or the same day that the ship was to arrive from Delos, the return of which was to be followed by the death of Socrates, Crito, his intimate friend, came to him early in the morning, to let him know that bad news, and at the same time that it depended only upon himself to quit the prison; that the jailor was gained; that he would find the doors open, and offered him a safe retreat in Thessaly. Socrates laughed at this proposal, and asked him “whether he knew any place in "Attica where people did not die ?" Crito urged the thing very seriously, and pressed him to take the advantage of so precious an opportunity, adding arguments upon arguments to induce his consent, and to engage him to resolve upon his escape. Without mentioning the inconsolable grief he should suffer for the death of such a friend, how should he support the reproaches of an infinity of people, who would believe that it was in his power to have saved him, but that he would not sacrifice a small part of his wealth for that purpose? Can the people ever be persuaded that so wise a man as Socrates would not quit his prison, when he might do it with all possible security? Perhaps he might fear to expose his friends, or to occasion the loss of their fortunes, or even of their lives or liberty. Ought there to be any thing more dear and precious to them than the preservation of Socrates? Even strangers themselves dispute that honour with them; many of whom have come expressly with considerable sums of money to purchase his escape; and declare, that they should think themselves highly honoured to receive him amongst them, and to supply him abundantly with all he should have occasion for. Ought he to abandon himself to enemies, who have occasioned his being condemned unjustly, and can he think it allowable to betray his own cause? Is it not essential to his goodness and justice, to spare his fellow citizens the guilt of innocent blood? But if all these motives cannot alter him, and he is not concerned in regard to himself, can he be insensible to the interests of his children? In what a condition does he leave them? And can he forget the father, to remember only the philosopher?

Socrates, after having heard him with attention, praised his zeal, and expressed his gratitude; but before he could give into his opinion, was for examining whether it was just for him to depart out of prison without the consent of the Athenians. The question therefore here is, to know whether a man condemned to die, though unjustly, can without a crime, escape from justice and the laws. I do not know whether, even amongst us, there are not many persons to be found who believe that this may be made a question.

Socrates begins with removing every thing foreign to the subject, and

*Plat. in Criton.

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comes immediately to the bottom of the affair. "I should certainly re'joice extremely, most dear Crito, that you could persuade me to quit "this place, but cannot resolve to do so, without being first persuaded. "We ought not to be in pain upon what the people say, but for what the "sole judge of all that is just or unjust shall pronounce upon us, and that "alone is truth. All the considerations you have alledged as to money, reputation, family, prove nothing, unless you show me that what you propose is just and lawful. It is a received and constant principle with & us, that all injustice is shameful, and fatal to him who commits it, whatever men may say, or whatever good or evil may be consequential of it. We have always reasoned from this principle even to our latest days, "and have never departed in the least from it. Would it be possible, "dear Crito, that at our age, our most serious discourses should resemble "those of infants, who say yes and no almost in the same breath, and "have nothing of fixed and determinate?" At each proposition he wait"ed Crito's answer and assent.

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"Let us therefore resume our principles, and endeavour to make use of "them at this time. It has always been a maxim with us, that it is never "allowable, upon any pretence whatsoever, to commit injustice, not even in regard to those who injure us, nor to return evil for evil, and that "when we have once engaged our word, we are bound to keep it inviolably; no interest being capable to dispense with it. Now if at the time "I should be ready to make my escape, the laws and republic should "present themselves in a body before me, what could I answer to the fol"lowing questions which they might put to me? What are you going to "do, Socrates? To fly from justice in this manner, is it aught else but ruining entirely the laws and the republic? Do you believe, that a state subsists, after justice is not only no longer in force in it, but is even corrupted, subverted, and trod under foot by particulars? But say I, the re"public has done me injustice and has sentenced me wrongfully. Have you forgot, the laws would reply, that you are under an agreement with us to submit your private judgment to the republic? You were at liber'ty, if our government and constitutions did not suit you, to retire and "settle yourself elsewhere. But a residence of 70 years in our city "sufficiently denotes that our plan has not displeased you, and that you "have complied with it from an entire knowledge and experience of it, 66 and out of choice. In effect, you owe all you are, and all you possess "to it: birth, nurture, education, and establishment; for all these proceed "from the tuition and protection of the republic. Do you believe your"self free to break through engagements with her, which you have con"firmed by more than one oath? Though she should intend to destroy you, can you render her evil for evil, and injury for injury? Have you a right "to act in that manner with your father and mother; and do you not know "that your country is more considerable, and more worthy of respect "before God and man, than either father or mother, or all the relations in "the world together; that your country is to be honoured and revered, to "be complied with in her excesses, and to be treated with tenderness and "kindness, even in her most violent proceedings? In a word, that she is "either to be reclaimed by wise counsels and respectful remonstrances, "or to be obeyed in her commands, and suffered without murmuring in all "she shall decree? As for your children, Socrates, your friends will ren"der them all the services in their power; at least the Divine Providence "will not be wanting to them. Resign yourself therefore to our reasons, "and take the counsel of those who have given you birth, nurture and ed

❝ucation. Set not so high a value upon your children, your life, or any "thing in the world, as justice; so shall it come to pass, that when you appear before the tribunal of Pluto, you will not be at a loss to defend "yourself in the presence of your judges. But if you demean your"self otherwise, we shall continue your enemies as long as you live, with"out ever affording you relaxation or repose; and when you are dead, our sisters, the laws in the regions below, will be as little favourable to you; knowing that you have been guilty of using your utmost endeavours to "destroy us."

Socrates observed to Crito, that he seemed to have a perfect sense of all he had said, and that the force of his reasons had made so strong and irresistible an impression upon his mind, that they entirely engrossed him, and left him neither thoughts nor words to object. Crito agreeing in effect that he had nothing to reply, continued silent, and withdrew from his friend.

* At length the fatal ship returned to Athens, which was in a manner the signal for the death of Socrates. The next day, all his friends, except Plato, who was sick, repaired to the prison early in the morning. The jailor desired them to wait a little, because the eleven magistrates, who had the direction of the prisons, were at that time signifying to the prisoner that he was to die the same day. Presently after, they entered, and found Socrates, whose † chains had been taken off, sitting by Xantippe his wife, who held one of his children in her arms. As soon as she perceived them, setting up great cries, sobbing, and tearing her face and hair, she made the prison resound with her complaints, "Oh, my dear Socrates, "your friends are come to see you this day for the last time!". He desired that she might be taken away, and she was immediately carried home.

Socrates passed the rest of the day with his friends, and discoursed with them with his usual cheerfulness and tranquility. The subject of conversation was the most important and best adapted to the present conjuncture, that is to say the immortality of the soul. What gave occasion to this discourse, was a question introduced in a manner by chance, whether a true philosopher ought not to desire and take pains to die? This proposition, taken too literally, implied an opinion, that a philosopher might kill himself. Socrates shows that nothing is more unjust than this notion, and that man, appertaining to God, who formed and placed him with his own handin the post he possesses, cannot abandon it without his permission, nor depart from life without his order. What is it then that can induce a philosopher to entertain this love for death? It can be only the hope of that happiness, which he expects in another life; and that hope can be founded only upon the opinion of the soul's immortality.

Socrates employed the last day of his life in entertaining his friends upon this great and important subject, from which conversation Plato's admirable dialogue, intitled the "Phædon," is wholly taken. He explains to his friends all the arguments for believing the soul immortal, and refutes all the objections against it, which are very near the same as are made at this day. This treatise is too long for me to attempt an abstract of it. Before he answers any of these objections, he deplores a misfortune

*Plat. in Phæd. p. 59, &c.

† At Athens, as soon as sentence was pronounced upon a criminal, he was unbound, and considered as the victim of death, whom it was no longer lawful to keep in chains. Plat. p. 90, 91.

common enough amongst men, who, in consequence of hearing ignorant persons, who contradict and doubt every thing, dispute, believe there is nothing certain. "Is it not a great misfortune, dear Phædon, that having reasons which are true, certain, and very easy to be understood, there "should, however, be those in the world, who are not at all affected with them, from their having heard those frivolous disputes, wherein all things appear sometimes true and sometimes false? These unjust and "unreasonable men, instead of blaming themselves for these doubts, or "charging the narrowness of their sense with them, from ascribing the de"fect to the reasons themselves, proceed at length to a detestation of "them; and believe themselves more knowing and judicious than all "others, because they imagine they are the only persons who comprehend "that there is nothing true or certain in the nature of things."

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Socrates demonstrates the injustice of this proceeding. He observes, that of two things equally uncertain, it consists with wisdom to choose that which is most advantageous with least hazard. “If what I advance,” says he, upon the immortality of the soul, proves true, it is good to believe "it; and if after my death it proves false, I shall always have the advantage "from it, to have been less sensible here of the evils which generally at"tend human life." This reasoning of Socrates, which, we are to suppose, can be only real and true in the mouth of a Christian, is very remarkable. If what I say is true, I gain all things, whilst I bazard very little; and if false, I lose nothing; on the contrary, I am still a great gainer.

Socrates does not confine himself to the mere speculation of this great truth, that the soul is immortal; he draws useful and necessary conclusions from it for the conduct of life; in explaining what the hope of an happy eternity demands from man, that it be not frustrated, and that, instead of attaining the rewards prepared for the good, they do not experience the punishments allotted for the wicked. The philosopher here sets forth these great truths, which a constant tradition, though very much obscured by fiction and fable, had always preserved amongst the pagans: the last judgment of the righteous and wicked; the eternal punishments to which great criminals are condemned; a place of peace and joy without end for the souls that retain their purity and innocence, or which, during this life, have expatiated their offences by repentance and satisfaction; and an intermediate state, in which they purify themselves, for a certain time, from less considerable crimes, that have not been atoned for during this life.

"My friends, there is still one thing, which it is very just to believe; "if the soul be immortal, it requires to be cultivated with attention, not "only for what we call the time of life, but for that which is to follow, I "mean eternity; and the least neglect in this point may be attended with "endless consequences. If death were the final dissolution of being, the "wicked would be great gainers in it, by being delivered at once from their "bodies, their souls, and their vices: but as the soul is immortal, it has no "other means of being freed from its evils, nor any safety for it, but in "becoming very good and very wise; for it carries nothing away with it, "but its good or bad deeds, its virtues or vices, which are commonly the consequences of the education it has received, and the causes of eternal "happiness or misery.

*Monsieur Pascal has expatiated upon this reasoning in his seventh article, and deduced from it a demonstration of infinite force.

Plat. p. 107.