urs forth his dying lay. Perhaps the extreme
elevation of Socrates above his own situation, and the ordinary
interests of life (compare his jeu d'esprit about his burial, in which
for a moment he puts on the 'Silenus mask'), create in the mind of the
reader an impression stronger than could be derived from arguments that
such a one has in him 'a principle which does not admit of death.'

The other persons of the Dialogue may be considered under two heads: (1)
private friends; (2) the respondents in the argument.

First there is Crito, who has been already introduced to us in the
Euthydemus and the Crito; he is the equal in years of Socrates, and
stands in quite a different relation to him from his younger disciples.
He is a man of the world who is rich and prosperous (compare the jest
in the Euthydemus), the best friend of Socrates, who wants to know his
commands, in whose presence he talks to his family, and who performs
the last duty of closing his eyes. It is observable too that, as in the
Euthydemus, Crito shows no aptitude for philosophical discussions. Nor
among the friends of Socrates must the jailer be forgotten, who seems
to have been introduced by Plato in order to show the impression made
by the extraordinary man on the common. The gentle nature of the man
is indicated by his weeping at the announcement of his errand and then
turning away, and also by the words of Socrates to his disciples: 'How
charming the man is! since I have been in prison he has been always
coming to me, and is as good as could be to me.' We are reminded
too that he has retained this gentle nature amid scenes of death and
violence by the contrasts which he draws between the behaviour of
Socrates and of others when about to die.

Another person who takes no part in the philosophical discussion is the
excitable Apollodorus, the same who, in the Symposium, of which he is
the narrator, is called 'the madman,' and who testifies his grief by the
most violent emotions. Phaedo is also present, the 'beloved disciple'
as he may be termed, who is described, if not 'leaning on his bosom,'
as seated next to Socrates, who is playing with his hair. He too, like
Apollodorus, takes no part in the discussion, but he loves above all
things to hear and speak of Socrates after his death. The calmness
of his behaviour, veiling his face when he can no longer restrain
his tears, contrasts with the passionate outcries of the other. At a
particular point the ar