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    "slug": "01-apology-the-death-of-socrates",
    "title": "Apology (the Death of Socrates)",
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    "words": 16107,
    "text": "## Apology (the Death of Socrates)\n\n\n#### translated by Benjamin Jowett\n\n##### New York, C. Scribner's Sons, [1871]\n\nINTRODUCTION.\n\nIn what relation the Apology of Plato stands to the real defence of\nSocrates, there are no means of determining. It certainly agrees in tone\nand character with the description of Xenophon, who says in the Memorabilia\nthat Socrates might have been acquitted 'if in any moderate degree he would\nhave conciliated the favour of the dicasts;' and who informs us in another\npassage, on the testimony of Hermogenes, the friend of Socrates, that he\nhad no wish to live; and that the divine sign refused to allow him to\nprepare a defence, and also that Socrates himself declared this to be\nunnecessary, on the ground that all his life long he had been preparing\nagainst that hour. For the speech breathes throughout a spirit of\ndefiance, (ut non supplex aut reus sed magister aut dominus videretur esse\njudicum' (Cic. de Orat.); and the loose and desultory style is an imitation\nof the 'accustomed manner' in which Socrates spoke in 'the agora and among\nthe tables of the money-changers.' The allusion in the Crito may, perhaps,\nbe adduced as a further evidence of the literal accuracy of some parts.\nBut in the main it must be regarded as the ideal of Socrates, according to\nPlato's conception of him, appearing in the greatest and most public scene\nof his life, and in the height of his triumph, when he is weakest, and yet\nhis mastery over mankind is greatest, and his habitual irony acquires a new\nmeaning and a sort of tragic pathos in the face of death. The facts of his\nlife are summed up, and the features of his character are brought out as if\nby accident in the course of the defence. The conversational manner, the\nseeming want of arrangement, the ironical simplicity, are found to result\nin a perfect work of art, which is the portrait of Socrates.\n\nYet some of the topics may have been actually used by Socrates; and the\nrecollection of his very words may have rung in the ears of his disciple.\nThe Apology of Plato may be compared generally with those speeches of\nThucydides in which he has embodied his conception of the lofty character\nand policy of the great Pericles, and which at the same time furnish a\ncommentary on the situation of affairs from the point of view of the\nhistorian. So in the Apology there is an ideal rather than a literal\ntruth; much is said which was not said, and is only Plato's view of the\nsituation. Plato was not, like Xenophon, a chronicler of facts; he does\nnot appear in any of his writings to have aimed at literal accuracy. He is\nnot therefore to be supplemented from the Memorabilia and Symposium of\nXenophon, who belongs to an entirely different class of writers. The\nApology of Plato is not the report of what Socrates said, but an elaborate\ncomposition, quite as much so in fact as one of the Dialogues. And we may\nperhaps even indulge in the fancy that the actual defence of Socrates was\nas much greater than the Platonic defence as the master was greater than\nthe disciple. But in any case, some of the words used by him must have\nbeen remembered, and some of the facts recorded must have actually\noccurred. It is significant that Plato is said to have been present at the\ndefence (Apol.), as he is also said to have been absent at the last scene\nin the Phaedo. Is it fanciful to suppose that he meant to give the stamp\nof authenticity to the one and not to the other?--especially when we\nconsider that these two passages are the only ones in which Plato makes\nmention of himself. The circumstance that Plato was to be one of his\nsureties for the payment of the fine which he proposed has the appearance\nof truth. More suspicious is the statement that Socrates received the\nfirst impulse to his favourite calling of cross-examining the world from\nthe Oracle of Delphi; for he must already have been famous before\nChaerephon went to consult the Oracle (Riddell), and the story is of a kind\nwhich is very likely to have been invented. On the whole we arrive at the\nconclusion that the Apology is true to the character of Socrates, but we\ncannot show that any single sentence in it was actually spoken by him. It\nbreathes the spirit of Socrates, but has been cast anew in the mould of\nPlato.\n\nThere is not much in the other Dialogues which can be compared with the\nApology. The same recollection of his master may have been present to the\nmind of Plato when depicting the sufferings of the Just in the Republic.\nThe Crito may also be regarded as a sort of appendage to the Apology, in\nwhich Socrates, who has defied the judges, is nevertheless represented as\nscrupulously obedient to the laws. The idealization of the sufferer is\ncarried still further in the Gorgias, in which the thesis is maintained,\nthat 'to suffer is better than to do evil;' and the art of rhetoric is\ndescribed as only useful for the purpose of self-accusation. The\nparallelisms which occur in the so-called Apology of Xenophon are not worth\nnoticing, because the writing in which they are contained is manifestly\nspurious. The statements of the Memorabilia respecting the trial and death\nof Socrates agree generally with Plato; but they have lost the flavour of\nSocratic irony in the narrative of Xenophon.\n\nThe Apology or Platonic defence of Socrates is divided into three parts:\n1st. The defence properly so called; 2nd. The shorter address in mitigation\nof the penalty; 3rd. The last words of prophetic rebuke and exhortation.\n\nThe first part commences with an apology for his colloquial style; he is,\nas he has always been, the enemy of rhetoric, and knows of no rhetoric but\ntruth; he will not falsify his character by making a speech. Then he\nproceeds to divide his accusers into two classes; first, there is the\nnameless accuser--public opinion. All the world from their earliest years\nhad heard that he was a corrupter of youth, and had seen him caricatured in\nthe Clouds of Aristophanes. Secondly, there are the professed accusers,\nwho are but the mouth-piece of the others. The accusations of both might\nbe summed up in a formula. The first say, 'Socrates is an evil-doer and a\ncurious person, searching into things under the earth and above the heaven;\nand making the worse appear the better cause, and teaching all this to\nothers.' The second, 'Socrates is an evil-doer and corrupter of the youth,\nwho does not receive the gods whom the state receives, but introduces other\nnew divinities.' These last words appear to have been the actual\nindictment (compare Xen. Mem.); and the previous formula, which is a\nsummary of public opinion, assumes the same legal style.\n\nThe answer begins by clearing up a confusion. In the representations of\nthe Comic poets, and in the opinion of the multitude, he had been\nidentified with the teachers of physical science and with the Sophists.\nBut this was an error. For both of them he professes a respect in the open\ncourt, which contrasts with his manner of speaking about them in other\nplaces. (Compare for Anaxagoras, Phaedo, Laws; for the Sophists, Meno,\nRepublic, Tim., Theaet., Soph., etc.) But at the same time he shows that\nhe is not one of them. Of natural philosophy he knows nothing; not that he\ndespises such pursuits, but the fact is that he is ignorant of them, and\nnever says a word about them. Nor is he paid for giving instruction--that\nis another mistaken notion:--he has nothing to teach. But he commends\nEvenus for teaching virtue at such a 'moderate' rate as five minae.\nSomething of the 'accustomed irony,' which may perhaps be expected to sleep\nin the ear of the multitude, is lurking here.\n\nHe then goes on to explain the reason why he is in such an evil name. That\nhad arisen out of a peculiar mission which he had taken upon himself. The\nenthusiastic Chaerephon (probably in anticipation of the answer which he\nreceived) had gone to Delphi and asked the oracle if there was any man\nwiser than Socrates; and the answer was, that there was no man wiser. What\ncould be the meaning of this--that he who knew nothing, and knew that he\nknew nothing, should be declared by the oracle to be the wisest of men?\nReflecting upon the answer, he determined to refute it by finding 'a\nwiser;' and first he went to the politicians, and then to the poets, and\nthen to the craftsmen, but always with the same result--he found that they\nknew nothing, or hardly anything more than himself; and that the little\nadvantage which in some cases they possessed was more than counter-balanced\nby their conceit of knowledge. He knew nothing, and knew that he knew\nnothing: they knew little or nothing, and imagined that they knew all\nthings. Thus he had passed his life as a sort of missionary in detecting\nthe pretended wisdom of mankind; and this occupation had quite absorbed him\nand taken him away both from public and private affairs. Young men of the\nricher sort had made a pastime of the same pursuit, 'which was not\nunamusing.' And hence bitter enmities had arisen; the professors of\nknowledge had revenged themselves by calling him a villainous corrupter of\nyouth, and by repeating the commonplaces about atheism and materialism and\nsophistry, which are the stock-accusations against all philosophers when\nthere is nothing else to be said of them.\n\nThe second accusation he meets by interrogating Meletus, who is present and\ncan be interrogated. 'If he is the corrupter, who is the improver of the\ncitizens?' (Compare Meno.) 'All men everywhere.' But how absurd, how\ncontrary to analogy is this! How inconceivable too, that he should make\nthe citizens worse when he has to live with them. This surely cannot be\nintentional; and if unintentional, he ought to have been instructed by\nMeletus, and not accused in the court.\n\nBut there is another part of the indictment which says that he teaches men\nnot to receive the gods whom the city receives, and has other new gods.\n'Is that the way in which he is supposed to corrupt the youth?' 'Yes, it\nis.' 'Has he only new gods, or none at all?' 'None at all.' 'What, not\neven the sun and moon?' 'No; why, he says that the sun is a stone, and the\nmoon earth.' That, replies Socrates, is the old confusion about\nAnaxagoras; the Athenian people are not so ignorant as to attribute to the\ninfluence of Socrates notions which have found their way into the drama,\nand may be learned at the theatre. Socrates undertakes to show that\nMeletus (rather unjustifiably) has been compounding a riddle in this part\nof the indictment: 'There are no gods, but Socrates believes in the\nexistence of the sons of gods, which is absurd.'\n\nLeaving Meletus, who has had enough words spent upon him, he returns to the\noriginal accusation. The question may be asked, Why will he persist in\nfollowing a profession which leads him to death? Why?--because he must\nremain at his post where the god has placed him, as he remained at\nPotidaea, and Amphipolis, and Delium, where the generals placed him.\nBesides, he is not so overwise as to imagine that he knows whether death is\na good or an evil; and he is certain that desertion of his duty is an evil.\nAnytus is quite right in saying that they should never have indicted him if\nthey meant to let him go. For he will certainly obey God rather than man;\nand will continue to preach to all men of all ages the necessity of virtue\nand improvement; and if they refuse to listen to him he will still\npersevere and reprove them. This is his way of corrupting the youth, which\nhe will not cease to follow in obedience to the god, even if a thousand\ndeaths await him.\n\nHe is desirous that they should let him live--not for his own sake, but for\ntheirs; because he is their heaven-sent friend (and they will never have\nsuch another), or, as he may be ludicrously described, he is the gadfly who\nstirs the generous steed into motion. Why then has he never taken part in\npublic affairs? Because the familiar divine voice has hindered him; if he\nhad been a public man, and had fought for the right, as he would certainly\nhave fought against the many, he would not have lived, and could therefore\nhave done no good. Twice in public matters he has risked his life for the\nsake of justice--once at the trial of the generals; and again in resistance\nto the tyrannical commands of the Thirty.\n\nBut, though not a public man, he has passed his days in instructing the\ncitizens without fee or reward--this was his mission. Whether his\ndisciples have turned out well or ill, he cannot justly be charged with the\nresult, for he never promised to teach them anything. They might come if\nthey liked, and they might stay away if they liked: and they did come,\nbecause they found an amusement in hearing the pretenders to wisdom\ndetected. If they have been corrupted, their elder relatives (if not\nthemselves) might surely come into court and witness against him, and there\nis an opportunity still for them to appear. But their fathers and brothers\nall appear in court (including 'this' Plato), to witness on his behalf; and\nif their relatives are corrupted, at least they are uncorrupted; 'and they\nare my witnesses. For they know that I am speaking the truth, and that\nMeletus is lying.'\n\nThis is about all that he has to say. He will not entreat the judges to\nspare his life; neither will he present a spectacle of weeping children,\nalthough he, too, is not made of 'rock or oak.' Some of the judges\nthemselves may have complied with this practice on similar occasions, and\nhe trusts that they will not be angry with him for not following their\nexample. But he feels that such conduct brings discredit on the name of\nAthens: he feels too, that the judge has sworn not to give away justice;\nand he cannot be guilty of the impiety of asking the judge to break his\noath, when he is himself being tried for impiety.\n\nAs he expected, and probably intended, he is convicted. And now the tone\nof the speech, instead of being more conciliatory, becomes more lofty and\ncommanding. Anytus proposes death as the penalty: and what counter-\nproposition shall he make? He, the benefactor of the Athenian people,\nwhose whole life has been spent in doing them good, should at least have\nthe Olympic victor's reward of maintenance in the Prytaneum. Or why should\nhe propose any counter-penalty when he does not know whether death, which\nAnytus proposes, is a good or an evil? And he is certain that imprisonment\nis an evil, exile is an evil. Loss of money might be an evil, but then he\nhas none to give; perhaps he can make up a mina. Let that be the penalty,\nor, if his friends wish, thirty minae; for which they will be excellent\nsecurities.\n\n(He is condemned to death.)\n\nHe is an old man already, and the Athenians will gain nothing but disgrace\nby depriving him of a few years of life. Perhaps he could have escaped, if\nhe had chosen to throw down his arms and entreat for his life. But he does\nnot at all repent of the manner of his defence; he would rather die in his\nown fashion than live in theirs. For the penalty of unrighteousness is\nswifter than death; that penalty has already overtaken his accusers as\ndeath will soon overtake him.\n\nAnd now, as one who is about to die, he will prophesy to them. They have\nput him to death in order to escape the necessity of giving an account of\ntheir lives. But his death 'will be the seed' of many disciples who will\nconvince them of their evil ways, and will come forth to reprove them in\nharsher terms, because they are younger and more inconsiderate.\n\nHe would like to say a few words, while there is time, to those who would\nhave acquitted him. He wishes them to know that the divine sign never\ninterrupted him in the course of his defence; the reason of which, as he\nconjectures, is that the death to which he is going is a good and not an\nevil. For either death is a long sleep, the best of sleeps, or a journey\nto another world in which the souls of the dead are gathered together, and\nin which there may be a hope of seeing the heroes of old--in which, too,\nthere are just judges; and as all are immortal, there can be no fear of any\none suffering death for his opinions.\n\nNothing evil can happen to the good man either in life or death, and his\nown death has been permitted by the gods, because it was better for him to\ndepart; and therefore he forgives his judges because they have done him no\nharm, although they never meant to do him any good.\n\nHe has a last request to make to them--that they will trouble his sons as\nhe has troubled them, if they appear to prefer riches to virtue, or to\nthink themselves something when they are nothing.\n\n...\n\n'Few persons will be found to wish that Socrates should have defended\nhimself otherwise,'--if, as we must add, his defence was that with which\nPlato has provided him. But leaving this question, which does not admit of\na precise solution, we may go on to ask what was the impression which Plato\nin the Apology intended to give of the character and conduct of his master\nin the last great scene? Did he intend to represent him (1) as employing\nsophistries; (2) as designedly irritating the judges? Or are these\nsophistries to be regarded as belonging to the age in which he lived and to\nhis personal character, and this apparent haughtiness as flowing from the\nnatural elevation of his position?\n\nFor example, when he says that it is absurd to suppose that one man is the\ncorrupter and all the rest of the world the improvers of the youth; or,\nwhen he argues that he never could have corrupted the men with whom he had\nto live; or, when he proves his belief in the gods because he believes in\nthe sons of gods, is he serious or jesting? It may be observed that these\nsophisms all occur in his cross-examination of Meletus, who is easily\nfoiled and mastered in the hands of the great dialectician. Perhaps he\nregarded these answers as good enough for his accuser, of whom he makes\nvery light. Also there is a touch of irony in them, which takes them out\nof the category of sophistry. (Compare Euthyph.)\n\nThat the manner in which he defends himself about the lives of his\ndisciples is not satisfactory, can hardly be denied. Fresh in the memory\nof the Athenians, and detestable as they deserved to be to the newly\nrestored democracy, were the names of Alcibiades, Critias, Charmides. It\nis obviously not a sufficient answer that Socrates had never professed to\nteach them anything, and is therefore not justly chargeable with their\ncrimes. Yet the defence, when taken out of this ironical form, is\ndoubtless sound: that his teaching had nothing to do with their evil\nlives. Here, then, the sophistry is rather in form than in substance,\nthough we might desire that to such a serious charge Socrates had given a\nmore serious answer.\n\nTruly characteristic of Socrates is another point in his answer, which may\nalso be regarded as sophistical. He says that 'if he has corrupted the\nyouth, he must have corrupted them involuntarily.' But if, as Socrates\nargues, all evil is involuntary, then all criminals ought to be admonished\nand not punished. In these words the Socratic doctrine of the\ninvoluntariness of evil is clearly intended to be conveyed. Here again, as\nin the former instance, the defence of Socrates is untrue practically, but\nmay be true in some ideal or transcendental sense. The commonplace reply,\nthat if he had been guilty of corrupting the youth their relations would\nsurely have witnessed against him, with which he concludes this part of his\ndefence, is more satisfactory.\n\nAgain, when Socrates argues that he must believe in the gods because he\nbelieves in the sons of gods, we must remember that this is a refutation\nnot of the original indictment, which is consistent enough--'Socrates does\nnot receive the gods whom the city receives, and has other new divinities'\n--but of the interpretation put upon the words by Meletus, who has affirmed\nthat he is a downright atheist. To this Socrates fairly answers, in\naccordance with the ideas of the time, that a downright atheist cannot\nbelieve in the sons of gods or in divine things. The notion that demons or\nlesser divinities are the sons of gods is not to be regarded as ironical or\nsceptical. He is arguing 'ad hominem' according to the notions of\nmythology current in his age. Yet he abstains from saying that he believed\nin the gods whom the State approved. He does not defend himself, as\nXenophon has defended him, by appealing to his practice of religion.\nProbably he neither wholly believed, nor disbelieved, in the existence of\nthe popular gods; he had no means of knowing about them. According to\nPlato (compare Phaedo; Symp.), as well as Xenophon (Memor.), he was\npunctual in the performance of the least religious duties; and he must have\nbelieved in his own oracular sign, of which he seemed to have an internal\nwitness. But the existence of Apollo or Zeus, or the other gods whom the\nState approves, would have appeared to him both uncertain and unimportant\nin comparison of the duty of self-examination, and of those principles of\ntruth and right which he deemed to be the foundation of religion. (Compare\nPhaedr.; Euthyph.; Republic.)\n\nThe second question, whether Plato meant to represent Socrates as braving\nor irritating his judges, must also be answered in the negative. His\nirony, his superiority, his audacity, 'regarding not the person of man,'\nnecessarily flow out of the loftiness of his situation. He is not acting a\npart upon a great occasion, but he is what he has been all his life long,\n'a king of men.' He would rather not appear insolent, if he could avoid it\n(ouch os authadizomenos touto lego). Neither is he desirous of hastening\nhis own end, for life and death are simply indifferent to him. But such a\ndefence as would be acceptable to his judges and might procure an\nacquittal, it is not in his nature to make. He will not say or do anything\nthat might pervert the course of justice; he cannot have his tongue bound\neven 'in the throat of death.' With his accusers he will only fence and\nplay, as he had fenced with other 'improvers of youth,' answering the\nSophist according to his sophistry all his life long. He is serious when\nhe is speaking of his own mission, which seems to distinguish him from all\nother reformers of mankind, and originates in an accident. The dedication\nof himself to the improvement of his fellow-citizens is not so remarkable\nas the ironical spirit in which he goes about doing good only in\nvindication of the credit of the oracle, and in the vain hope of finding a\nwiser man than himself. Yet this singular and almost accidental character\nof his mission agrees with the divine sign which, according to our notions,\nis equally accidental and irrational, and is nevertheless accepted by him\nas the guiding principle of his life. Socrates is nowhere represented to\nus as a freethinker or sceptic. There is no reason to doubt his sincerity\nwhen he speculates on the possibility of seeing and knowing the heroes of\nthe Trojan war in another world. On the other hand, his hope of\nimmortality is uncertain;--he also conceives of death as a long sleep (in\nthis respect differing from the Phaedo), and at last falls back on\nresignation to the divine will, and the certainty that no evil can happen\nto the good man either in life or death. His absolute truthfulness seems\nto hinder him from asserting positively more than this; and he makes no\nattempt to veil his ignorance in mythology and figures of speech. The\ngentleness of the first part of the speech contrasts with the aggravated,\nalmost threatening, tone of the conclusion. He characteristically remarks\nthat he will not speak as a rhetorician, that is to say, he will not make a\nregular defence such as Lysias or one of the orators might have composed\nfor him, or, according to some accounts, did compose for him. But he first\nprocures himself a hearing by conciliatory words. He does not attack the\nSophists; for they were open to the same charges as himself; they were\nequally ridiculed by the Comic poets, and almost equally hateful to Anytus\nand Meletus. Yet incidentally the antagonism between Socrates and the\nSophists is allowed to appear. He is poor and they are rich; his\nprofession that he teaches nothing is opposed to their readiness to teach\nall things; his talking in the marketplace to their private instructions;\nhis tarry-at-home life to their wandering from city to city. The tone\nwhich he assumes towards them is one of real friendliness, but also of\nconcealed irony. Towards Anaxagoras, who had disappointed him in his hopes\nof learning about mind and nature, he shows a less kindly feeling, which is\nalso the feeling of Plato in other passages (Laws). But Anaxagoras had\nbeen dead thirty years, and was beyond the reach of persecution.\n\nIt has been remarked that the prophecy of a new generation of teachers who\nwould rebuke and exhort the Athenian people in harsher and more violent\nterms was, as far as we know, never fulfilled. No inference can be drawn\nfrom this circumstance as to the probability of the words attributed to him\nhaving been actually uttered. They express the aspiration of the first\nmartyr of philosophy, that he would leave behind him many followers,\naccompanied by the not unnatural feeling that they would be fiercer and\nmore inconsiderate in their words when emancipated from his control.\n\nThe above remarks must be understood as applying with any degree of\ncertainty to the Platonic Socrates only. For, although these or similar\nwords may have been spoken by Socrates himself, we cannot exclude the\npossibility, that like so much else, e.g. the wisdom of Critias, the poem\nof Solon, the virtues of Charmides, they may have been due only to the\nimagination of Plato. The arguments of those who maintain that the Apology\nwas composed during the process, resting on no evidence, do not require a\nserious refutation. Nor are the reasonings of Schleiermacher, who argues\nthat the Platonic defence is an exact or nearly exact reproduction of the\nwords of Socrates, partly because Plato would not have been guilty of the\nimpiety of altering them, and also because many points of the defence might\nhave been improved and strengthened, at all more conclusive. (See English\nTranslation.) What effect the death of Socrates produced on the mind of\nPlato, we cannot certainly determine; nor can we say how he would or must\nhave written under the circumstances. We observe that the enmity of\nAristophanes to Socrates does not prevent Plato from introducing them\ntogether in the Symposium engaged in friendly intercourse. Nor is there\nany trace in the Dialogues of an attempt to make Anytus or Meletus\npersonally odious in the eyes of the Athenian public.\n\nAPOLOGY\n\nby\n\nPlato\n\nTranslated by Benjamin Jowett\n\nHow you, O Athenians, have been affected by my accusers, I cannot tell; but\nI know that they almost made me forget who I was--so persuasively did they\nspeak; and yet they have hardly uttered a word of truth. But of the many\nfalsehoods told by them, there was one which quite amazed me;--I mean when\nthey said that you should be upon your guard and not allow yourselves to be\ndeceived by the force of my eloquence. To say this, when they were certain\nto be detected as soon as I opened my lips and proved myself to be anything\nbut a great speaker, did indeed appear to me most shameless--unless by the\nforce of eloquence they mean the force of truth; for is such is their\nmeaning, I admit that I am eloquent. But in how different a way from\ntheirs! Well, as I was saying, they have scarcely spoken the truth at all;\nbut from me you shall hear the whole truth: not, however, delivered after\ntheir manner in a set oration duly ornamented with words and phrases. No,\nby heaven! but I shall use the words and arguments which occur to me at the\nmoment; for I am confident in the justice of my cause (Or, I am certain\nthat I am right in taking this course.): at my time of life I ought not to\nbe appearing before you, O men of Athens, in the character of a juvenile\norator--let no one expect it of me. And I must beg of you to grant me a\nfavour:--If I defend myself in my accustomed manner, and you hear me using\nthe words which I have been in the habit of using in the agora, at the\ntables of the money-changers, or anywhere else, I would ask you not to be\nsurprised, and not to interrupt me on this account. For I am more than\nseventy years of age, and appearing now for the first time in a court of\nlaw, I am quite a stranger to the language of the place; and therefore I\nwould have you regard me as if I were really a stranger, whom you would\nexcuse if he spoke in his native tongue, and after the fashion of his\ncountry:--Am I making an unfair request of you? Never mind the manner,\nwhich may or may not be good; but think only of the truth of my words, and\ngive heed to that: let the speaker speak truly and the judge decide\njustly.\n\nAnd first, I have to reply to the older charges and to my first accusers,\nand then I will go on to the later ones. For of old I have had many\naccusers, who have accused me falsely to you during many years; and I am\nmore afraid of them than of Anytus and his associates, who are dangerous,\ntoo, in their own way. But far more dangerous are the others, who began\nwhen you were children, and took possession of your minds with their\nfalsehoods, telling of one Socrates, a wise man, who speculated about the\nheaven above, and searched into the earth beneath, and made the worse\nappear the better cause. The disseminators of this tale are the accusers\nwhom I dread; for their hearers are apt to fancy that such enquirers do not\nbelieve in the existence of the gods. And they are many, and their charges\nagainst me are of ancient date, and they were made by them in the days when\nyou were more impressible than you are now--in childhood, or it may have\nbeen in youth--and the cause when heard went by default, for there was none\nto answer. And hardest of all, I do not know and cannot tell the names of\nmy accusers; unless in the chance case of a Comic poet. All who from envy\nand malice have persuaded you--some of them having first convinced\nthemselves--all this class of men are most difficult to deal with; for I\ncannot have them up here, and cross-examine them, and therefore I must\nsimply fight with shadows in my own defence, and argue when there is no one\nwho answers. I will ask you then to assume with me, as I was saying, that\nmy opponents are of two kinds; one recent, the other ancient: and I hope\nthat you will see the propriety of my answering the latter first, for these\naccusations you heard long before the others, and much oftener.\n\nWell, then, I must make my defence, and endeavour to clear away in a short\ntime, a slander which has lasted a long time. May I succeed, if to succeed\nbe for my good and yours, or likely to avail me in my cause! The task is\nnot an easy one; I quite understand the nature of it. And so leaving the\nevent with God, in obedience to the law I will now make my defence.\n\nI will begin at the beginning, and ask what is the accusation which has\ngiven rise to the slander of me, and in fact has encouraged Meletus to\nproof this charge against me. Well, what do the slanderers say? They\nshall be my prosecutors, and I will sum up their words in an affidavit:\n'Socrates is an evil-doer, and a curious person, who searches into things\nunder the earth and in heaven, and he makes the worse appear the better\ncause; and he teaches the aforesaid doctrines to others.' Such is the\nnature of the accusation: it is just what you have yourselves seen in the\ncomedy of Aristophanes (Aristoph., Clouds.), who has introduced a man whom\nhe calls Socrates, going about and saying that he walks in air, and talking\na deal of nonsense concerning matters of which I do not pretend to know\neither much or little--not that I mean to speak disparagingly of any one\nwho is a student of natural philosophy. I should be very sorry if Meletus\ncould bring so grave a charge against me. But the simple truth is, O\nAthenians, that I have nothing to do with physical speculations. Very many\nof those here present are witnesses to the truth of this, and to them I\nappeal. Speak then, you who have heard me, and tell your neighbours\nwhether any of you have ever known me hold forth in few words or in many\nupon such matters...You hear their answer. And from what they say of this\npart of the charge you will be able to judge of the truth of the rest.\n\nAs little foundation is there for the report that I am a teacher, and take\nmoney; this accusation has no more truth in it than the other. Although,\nif a man were really able to instruct mankind, to receive money for giving\ninstruction would, in my opinion, be an honour to him. There is Gorgias of\nLeontium, and Prodicus of Ceos, and Hippias of Elis, who go the round of\nthe cities, and are able to persuade the young men to leave their own\ncitizens by whom they might be taught for nothing, and come to them whom\nthey not only pay, but are thankful if they may be allowed to pay them.\nThere is at this time a Parian philosopher residing in Athens, of whom I\nhave heard; and I came to hear of him in this way:--I came across a man who\nhas spent a world of money on the Sophists, Callias, the son of Hipponicus,\nand knowing that he had sons, I asked him: 'Callias,' I said, 'if your two\nsons were foals or calves, there would be no difficulty in finding some one\nto put over them; we should hire a trainer of horses, or a farmer probably,\nwho would improve and perfect them in their own proper virtue and\nexcellence; but as they are human beings, whom are you thinking of placing\nover them? Is there any one who understands human and political virtue?\nYou must have thought about the matter, for you have sons; is there any\none?' 'There is,' he said. 'Who is he?' said I; 'and of what country? and\nwhat does he charge?' 'Evenus the Parian,' he replied; 'he is the man, and\nhis charge is five minae.' Happy is Evenus, I said to myself, if he really\nhas this wisdom, and teaches at such a moderate charge. Had I the same, I\nshould have been very proud and conceited; but the truth is that I have no\nknowledge of the kind.\n\nI dare say, Athenians, that some one among you will reply, 'Yes, Socrates,\nbut what is the origin of these accusations which are brought against you;\nthere must have been something strange which you have been doing? All\nthese rumours and this talk about you would never have arisen if you had\nbeen like other men: tell us, then, what is the cause of them, for we\nshould be sorry to judge hastily of you.' Now I regard this as a fair\nchallenge, and I will endeavour to explain to you the reason why I am\ncalled wise and have such an evil fame. Please to attend then. And\nalthough some of you may think that I am joking, I declare that I will tell\nyou the entire truth. Men of Athens, this reputation of mine has come of a\ncertain sort of wisdom which I possess. If you ask me what kind of wisdom,\nI reply, wisdom such as may perhaps be attained by man, for to that extent\nI am inclined to believe that I am wise; whereas the persons of whom I was\nspeaking have a superhuman wisdom which I may fail to describe, because I\nhave it not myself; and he who says that I have, speaks falsely, and is\ntaking away my character. And here, O men of Athens, I must beg you not to\ninterrupt me, even if I seem to say something extravagant. For the word\nwhich I will speak is not mine. I will refer you to a witness who is\nworthy of credit; that witness shall be the God of Delphi--he will tell you\nabout my wisdom, if I have any, and of what sort it is. You must have\nknown Chaerephon; he was early a friend of mine, and also a friend of\nyours, for he shared in the recent exile of the people, and returned with\nyou. Well, Chaerephon, as you know, was very impetuous in all his doings,\nand he went to Delphi and boldly asked the oracle to tell him whether--as I\nwas saying, I must beg you not to interrupt--he asked the oracle to tell\nhim whether anyone was wiser than I was, and the Pythian prophetess\nanswered, that there was no man wiser. Chaerephon is dead himself; but his\nbrother, who is in court, will confirm the truth of what I am saying.\n\nWhy do I mention this? Because I am going to explain to you why I have\nsuch an evil name. When I heard the answer, I said to myself, What can the\ngod mean? and what is the interpretation of his riddle? for I know that I\nhave no wisdom, small or great. What then can he mean when he says that I\nam the wisest of men? And yet he is a god, and cannot lie; that would be\nagainst his nature. After long consideration, I thought of a method of\ntrying the question. I reflected that if I could only find a man wiser\nthan myself, then I might go to the god with a refutation in my hand. I\nshould say to him, 'Here is a man who is wiser than I am; but you said that\nI was the wisest.' Accordingly I went to one who had the reputation of\nwisdom, and observed him--his name I need not mention; he was a politician\nwhom I selected for examination--and the result was as follows: When I\nbegan to talk with him, I could not help thinking that he was not really\nwise, although he was thought wise by many, and still wiser by himself; and\nthereupon I tried to explain to him that he thought himself wise, but was\nnot really wise; and the consequence was that he hated me, and his enmity\nwas shared by several who were present and heard me. So I left him, saying\nto myself, as I went away: Well, although I do not suppose that either of\nus knows anything really beautiful and good, I am better off than he is,--\nfor he knows nothing, and thinks that he knows; I neither know nor think\nthat I know. In this latter particular, then, I seem to have slightly the\nadvantage of him. Then I went to another who had still higher pretensions\nto wisdom, and my conclusion was exactly the same. Whereupon I made\nanother enemy of him, and of many others besides him.\n\nThen I went to one man after another, being not unconscious of the enmity\nwhich I provoked, and I lamented and feared this: but necessity was laid\nupon me,--the word of God, I thought, ought to be considered first. And I\nsaid to myself, Go I must to all who appear to know, and find out the\nmeaning of the oracle. And I swear to you, Athenians, by the dog I swear!\n--for I must tell you the truth--the result of my mission was just this: I\nfound that the men most in repute were all but the most foolish; and that\nothers less esteemed were really wiser and better. I will tell you the\ntale of my wanderings and of the 'Herculean' labours, as I may call them,\nwhich I endured only to find at last the oracle irrefutable. After the\npoliticians, I went to the poets; tragic, dithyrambic, and all sorts. And\nthere, I said to myself, you will be instantly detected; now you will find\nout that you are more ignorant than they are. Accordingly, I took them\nsome of the most elaborate passages in their own writings, and asked what\nwas the meaning of them--thinking that they would teach me something. Will\nyou believe me? I am almost ashamed to confess the truth, but I must say\nthat there is hardly a person present who would not have talked better\nabout their poetry than they did themselves. Then I knew that not by\nwisdom do poets write poetry, but by a sort of genius and inspiration; they\nare like diviners or soothsayers who also say many fine things, but do not\nunderstand the meaning of them. The poets appeared to me to be much in the\nsame case; and I further observed that upon the strength of their poetry\nthey believed themselves to be the wisest of men in other things in which\nthey were not wise. So I departed, conceiving myself to be superior to\nthem for the same reason that I was superior to the politicians.\n\nAt last I went to the artisans. I was conscious that I knew nothing at\nall, as I may say, and I was sure that they knew many fine things; and here\nI was not mistaken, for they did know many things of which I was ignorant,\nand in this they certainly were wiser than I was. But I observed that even\nthe good artisans fell into the same error as the poets;--because they were\ngood workmen they thought that they also knew all sorts of high matters,\nand this defect in them overshadowed their wisdom; and therefore I asked\nmyself on behalf of the oracle, whether I would like to be as I was,\nneither having their knowledge nor their ignorance, or like them in both;\nand I made answer to myself and to the oracle that I was better off as I\nwas.\n\nThis inquisition has led to my having many enemies of the worst and most\ndangerous kind, and has given occasion also to many calumnies. And I am\ncalled wise, for my hearers always imagine that I myself possess the wisdom\nwhich I find wanting in others: but the truth is, O men of Athens, that\nGod only is wise; and by his answer he intends to show that the wisdom of\nmen is worth little or nothing; he is not speaking of Socrates, he is only\nusing my name by way of illustration, as if he said, He, O men, is the\nwisest, who, like Socrates, knows that his wisdom is in truth worth\nnothing. And so I go about the world, obedient to the god, and search and\nmake enquiry into the wisdom of any one, whether citizen or stranger, who\nappears to be wise; and if he is not wise, then in vindication of the\noracle I show him that he is not wise; and my occupation quite absorbs me,\nand I have no time to give either to any public matter of interest or to\nany concern of my own, but I am in utter poverty by reason of my devotion\nto the god.\n\nThere is another thing:--young men of the richer classes, who have not much\nto do, come about me of their own accord; they like to hear the pretenders\nexamined, and they often imitate me, and proceed to examine others; there\nare plenty of persons, as they quickly discover, who think that they know\nsomething, but really know little or nothing; and then those who are\nexamined by them instead of being angry with themselves are angry with me:\nThis confounded Socrates, they say; this villainous misleader of youth!--\nand then if somebody asks them, Why, what evil does he practise or teach?\nthey do not know, and cannot tell; but in order that they may not appear to\nbe at a loss, they repeat the ready-made charges which are used against all\nphilosophers about teaching things up in the clouds and under the earth,\nand having no gods, and making the worse appear the better cause; for they\ndo not like to confess that their pretence of knowledge has been detected--\nwhich is the truth; and as they are numerous and ambitious and energetic,\nand are drawn up in battle array and have persuasive tongues, they have\nfilled your ears with their loud and inveterate calumnies. And this is the\nreason why my three accusers, Meletus and Anytus and Lycon, have set upon\nme; Meletus, who has a quarrel with me on behalf of the poets; Anytus, on\nbehalf of the craftsmen and politicians; Lycon, on behalf of the\nrhetoricians: and as I said at the beginning, I cannot expect to get rid\nof such a mass of calumny all in a moment. And this, O men of Athens, is\nthe truth and the whole truth; I have concealed nothing, I have dissembled\nnothing. And yet, I know that my plainness of speech makes them hate me,\nand what is their hatred but a proof that I am speaking the truth?--Hence\nhas arisen the prejudice against me; and this is the reason of it, as you\nwill find out either in this or in any future enquiry.\n\nI have said enough in my defence against the first class of my accusers; I\nturn to the second class. They are headed by Meletus, that good man and\ntrue lover of his country, as he calls himself. Against these, too, I must\ntry to make a defence:--Let their affidavit be read: it contains something\nof this kind: It says that Socrates is a doer of evil, who corrupts the\nyouth; and who does not believe in the gods of the state, but has other new\ndivinities of his own. Such is the charge; and now let us examine the\nparticular counts. He says that I am a doer of evil, and corrupt the\nyouth; but I say, O men of Athens, that Meletus is a doer of evil, in that\nhe pretends to be in earnest when he is only in jest, and is so eager to\nbring men to trial from a pretended zeal and interest about matters in\nwhich he really never had the smallest interest. And the truth of this I\nwill endeavour to prove to you.\n\nCome hither, Meletus, and let me ask a question of you. You think a great\ndeal about the improvement of youth?\n\nYes, I do.\n\nTell the judges, then, who is their improver; for you must know, as you\nhave taken the pains to discover their corrupter, and are citing and\naccusing me before them. Speak, then, and tell the judges who their\nimprover is.--Observe, Meletus, that you are silent, and have nothing to\nsay. But is not this rather disgraceful, and a very considerable proof of\nwhat I was saying, that you have no interest in the matter? Speak up,\nfriend, and tell us who their improver is.\n\nThe laws.\n\nBut that, my good sir, is not my meaning. I want to know who the person\nis, who, in the first place, knows the laws.\n\nThe judges, Socrates, who are present in court.\n\nWhat, do you mean to say, Meletus, that they are able to instruct and\nimprove youth?\n\nCertainly they are.\n\nWhat, all of them, or some only and not others?\n\nAll of them.\n\nBy the goddess Here, that is good news! There are plenty of improvers,\nthen. And what do you say of the audience,--do they improve them?\n\nYes, they do.\n\nAnd the senators?\n\nYes, the senators improve them.\n\nBut perhaps the members of the assembly corrupt them?--or do they too\nimprove them?\n\nThey improve them.\n\nThen every Athenian improves and elevates them; all with the exception of\nmyself; and I alone am their corrupter? Is that what you affirm?\n\nThat is what I stoutly affirm.\n\nI am very unfortunate if you are right. But suppose I ask you a question:\nHow about horses? Does one man do them harm and all the world good? Is\nnot the exact opposite the truth? One man is able to do them good, or at\nleast not many;--the trainer of horses, that is to say, does them good, and\nothers who have to do with them rather injure them? Is not that true,\nMeletus, of horses, or of any other animals? Most assuredly it is; whether\nyou and Anytus say yes or no. Happy indeed would be the condition of youth\nif they had one corrupter only, and all the rest of the world were their\nimprovers. But you, Meletus, have sufficiently shown that you never had a\nthought about the young: your carelessness is seen in your not caring\nabout the very things which you bring against me.\n\nAnd now, Meletus, I will ask you another question--by Zeus I will: Which\nis better, to live among bad citizens, or among good ones? Answer, friend,\nI say; the question is one which may be easily answered. Do not the good\ndo their neighbours good, and the bad do them evil?\n\nCertainly.\n\nAnd is there anyone who would rather be injured than benefited by those who\nlive with him? Answer, my good friend, the law requires you to answer--\ndoes any one like to be injured?\n\nCertainly not.\n\nAnd when you accuse me of corrupting and deteriorating the youth, do you\nallege that I corrupt them intentionally or unintentionally?\n\nIntentionally, I say.\n\nBut you have just admitted that the good do their neighbours good, and the\nevil do them evil. Now, is that a truth which your superior wisdom has\nrecognized thus early in life, and am I, at my age, in such darkness and\nignorance as not to know that if a man with whom I have to live is\ncorrupted by me, I am very likely to be harmed by him; and yet I corrupt\nhim, and intentionally, too--so you say, although neither I nor any other\nhuman being is ever likely to be convinced by you. But either I do not\ncorrupt them, or I corrupt them unintentionally; and on either view of the\ncase you lie. If my offence is unintentional, the law has no cognizance of\nunintentional offences: you ought to have taken me privately, and warned\nand admonished me; for if I had been better advised, I should have left off\ndoing what I only did unintentionally--no doubt I should; but you would\nhave nothing to say to me and refused to teach me. And now you bring me up\nin this court, which is a place not of instruction, but of punishment.\n\nIt will be very clear to you, Athenians, as I was saying, that Meletus has\nno care at all, great or small, about the matter. But still I should like\nto know, Meletus, in what I am affirmed to corrupt the young. I suppose\nyou mean, as I infer from your indictment, that I teach them not to\nacknowledge the gods which the state acknowledges, but some other new\ndivinities or spiritual agencies in their stead. These are the lessons by\nwhich I corrupt the youth, as you say.\n\nYes, that I say emphatically.\n\nThen, by the gods, Meletus, of whom we are speaking, tell me and the court,\nin somewhat plainer terms, what you mean! for I do not as yet understand\nwhether you affirm that I teach other men to acknowledge some gods, and\ntherefore that I do believe in gods, and am not an entire atheist--this you\ndo not lay to my charge,--but only you say that they are not the same gods\nwhich the city recognizes--the charge is that they are different gods. Or,\ndo you mean that I am an atheist simply, and a teacher of atheism?\n\nI mean the latter--that you are a complete atheist.\n\nWhat an extraordinary statement! Why do you think so, Meletus? Do you\nmean that I do not believe in the godhead of the sun or moon, like other\nmen?\n\nI assure you, judges, that he does not: for he says that the sun is stone,\nand the moon earth.\n\nFriend Meletus, you think that you are accusing Anaxagoras: and you have\nbut a bad opinion of the judges, if you fancy them illiterate to such a\ndegree as not to know that these doctrines are found in the books of\nAnaxagoras the Clazomenian, which are full of them. And so, forsooth, the\nyouth are said to be taught them by Socrates, when there are not\nunfrequently exhibitions of them at the theatre (Probably in allusion to\nAristophanes who caricatured, and to Euripides who borrowed the notions of\nAnaxagoras, as well as to other dramatic poets.) (price of admission one\ndrachma at the most); and they might pay their money, and laugh at Socrates\nif he pretends to father these extraordinary views. And so, Meletus, you\nreally think that I do not believe in any god?\n\nI swear by Zeus that you believe absolutely in none at all.\n\nNobody will believe you, Meletus, and I am pretty sure that you do not\nbelieve yourself. I cannot help thinking, men of Athens, that Meletus is\nreckless and impudent, and that he has written this indictment in a spirit\nof mere wantonness and youthful bravado. Has he not compounded a riddle,\nthinking to try me? He said to himself:--I shall see whether the wise\nSocrates will discover my facetious contradiction, or whether I shall be\nable to deceive him and the rest of them. For he certainly does appear to\nme to contradict himself in the indictment as much as if he said that\nSocrates is guilty of not believing in the gods, and yet of believing in\nthem--but this is not like a person who is in earnest.\n\nI should like you, O men of Athens, to join me in examining what I conceive\nto be his inconsistency; and do you, Meletus, answer. And I must remind\nthe audience of my request that they would not make a disturbance if I\nspeak in my accustomed manner:\n\nDid ever man, Meletus, believe in the existence of human things, and not of\nhuman beings?...I wish, men of Athens, that he would answer, and not be\nalways trying to get up an interruption. Did ever any man believe in\nhorsemanship, and not in horses? or in flute-playing, and not in flute-\nplayers? No, my friend; I will answer to you and to the court, as you\nrefuse to answer for yourself. There is no man who ever did. But now\nplease to answer the next question: Can a man believe in spiritual and\ndivine agencies, and not in spirits or demigods?\n\nHe cannot.\n\nHow lucky I am to have extracted that answer, by the assistance of the\ncourt! But then you swear in the indictment that I teach and believe in\ndivine or spiritual agencies (new or old, no matter for that); at any rate,\nI believe in spiritual agencies,--so you say and swear in the affidavit;\nand yet if I believe in divine beings, how can I help believing in spirits\nor demigods;--must I not? To be sure I must; and therefore I may assume\nthat your silence gives consent. Now what are spirits or demigods? Are\nthey not either gods or the sons of gods?\n\nCertainly they are.\n\nBut this is what I call the facetious riddle invented by you: the demigods\nor spirits are gods, and you say first that I do not believe in gods, and\nthen again that I do believe in gods; that is, if I believe in demigods.\nFor if the demigods are the illegitimate sons of gods, whether by the\nnymphs or by any other mothers, of whom they are said to be the sons--what\nhuman being will ever believe that there are no gods if they are the sons\nof gods? You might as well affirm the existence of mules, and deny that of\nhorses and asses. Such nonsense, Meletus, could only have been intended by\nyou to make trial of me. You have put this into the indictment because you\nhad nothing real of which to accuse me. But no one who has a particle of\nunderstanding will ever be convinced by you that the same men can believe\nin divine and superhuman things, and yet not believe that there are gods\nand demigods and heroes.\n\nI have said enough in answer to the charge of Meletus: any elaborate\ndefence is unnecessary, but I know only too well how many are the enmities\nwhich I have incurred, and this is what will be my destruction if I am\ndestroyed;--not Meletus, nor yet Anytus, but the envy and detraction of the\nworld, which has been the death of many good men, and will probably be the\ndeath of many more; there is no danger of my being the last of them.\n\nSome one will say: And are you not ashamed, Socrates, of a course of life\nwhich is likely to bring you to an untimely end? To him I may fairly\nanswer: There you are mistaken: a man who is good for anything ought not\nto calculate the chance of living or dying; he ought only to consider\nwhether in doing anything he is doing right or wrong--acting the part of a\ngood man or of a bad. Whereas, upon your view, the heroes who fell at Troy\nwere not good for much, and the son of Thetis above all, who altogether\ndespised danger in comparison with disgrace; and when he was so eager to\nslay Hector, his goddess mother said to him, that if he avenged his\ncompanion Patroclus, and slew Hector, he would die himself--'Fate,' she\nsaid, in these or the like words, 'waits for you next after Hector;' he,\nreceiving this warning, utterly despised danger and death, and instead of\nfearing them, feared rather to live in dishonour, and not to avenge his\nfriend. 'Let me die forthwith,' he replies, 'and be avenged of my enemy,\nrather than abide here by the beaked ships, a laughing-stock and a burden\nof the earth.' Had Achilles any thought of death and danger? For wherever\na man's place is, whether the place which he has chosen or that in which he\nhas been placed by a commander, there he ought to remain in the hour of\ndanger; he should not think of death or of anything but of disgrace. And\nthis, O men of Athens, is a true saying.\n\nStrange, indeed, would be my conduct, O men of Athens, if I who, when I was\nordered by the generals whom you chose to command me at Potidaea and\nAmphipolis and Delium, remained where they placed me, like any other man,\nfacing death--if now, when, as I conceive and imagine, God orders me to\nfulfil the philosopher's mission of searching into myself and other men, I\nwere to desert my post through fear of death, or any other fear; that would\nindeed be strange, and I might justly be arraigned in court for denying the\nexistence of the gods, if I disobeyed the oracle because I was afraid of\ndeath, fancying that I was wise when I was not wise. For the fear of death\nis indeed the pretence of wisdom, and not real wisdom, being a pretence of\nknowing the unknown; and no one knows whether death, which men in their\nfear apprehend to be the greatest evil, may not be the greatest good. Is\nnot this ignorance of a disgraceful sort, the ignorance which is the\nconceit that a man knows what he does not know? And in this respect only I\nbelieve myself to differ from men in general, and may perhaps claim to be\nwiser than they are:--that whereas I know but little of the world below, I\ndo not suppose that I know: but I do know that injustice and disobedience\nto a better, whether God or man, is evil and dishonourable, and I will\nnever fear or avoid a possible good rather than a certain evil. And\ntherefore if you let me go now, and are not convinced by Anytus, who said\nthat since I had been prosecuted I must be put to death; (or if not that I\nought never to have been prosecuted at all); and that if I escape now, your\nsons will all be utterly ruined by listening to my words--if you say to me,\nSocrates, this time we will not mind Anytus, and you shall be let off, but\nupon one condition, that you are not to enquire and speculate in this way\nany more, and that if you are caught doing so again you shall die;--if this\nwas the condition on which you let me go, I should reply: Men of Athens, I\nhonour and love you; but I shall obey God rather than you, and while I have\nlife and strength I shall never cease from the practice and teaching of\nphilosophy, exhorting any one whom I meet and saying to him after my\nmanner: You, my friend,--a citizen of the great and mighty and wise city\nof Athens,--are you not ashamed of heaping up the greatest amount of money\nand honour and reputation, and caring so little about wisdom and truth and\nthe greatest improvement of the soul, which you never regard or heed at\nall? And if the person with whom I am arguing, says: Yes, but I do care;\nthen I do not leave him or let him go at once; but I proceed to interrogate\nand examine and cross-examine him, and if I think that he has no virtue in\nhim, but only says that he has, I reproach him with undervaluing the\ngreater, and overvaluing the less. And I shall repeat the same words to\nevery one whom I meet, young and old, citizen and alien, but especially to\nthe citizens, inasmuch as they are my brethren. For know that this is the\ncommand of God; and I believe that no greater good has ever happened in the\nstate than my service to the God. For I do nothing but go about persuading\nyou all, old and young alike, not to take thought for your persons or your\nproperties, but first and chiefly to care about the greatest improvement of\nthe soul. I tell you that virtue is not given by money, but that from\nvirtue comes money and every other good of man, public as well as private.\nThis is my teaching, and if this is the doctrine which corrupts the youth,\nI am a mischievous person. But if any one says that this is not my\nteaching, he is speaking an untruth. Wherefore, O men of Athens, I say to\nyou, do as Anytus bids or not as Anytus bids, and either acquit me or not;\nbut whichever you do, understand that I shall never alter my ways, not even\nif I have to die many times.\n\nMen of Athens, do not interrupt, but hear me; there was an understanding\nbetween us that you should hear me to the end: I have something more to\nsay, at which you may be inclined to cry out; but I believe that to hear me\nwill be good for you, and therefore I beg that you will not cry out. I\nwould have you know, that if you kill such an one as I am, you will injure\nyourselves more than you will injure me. Nothing will injure me, not\nMeletus nor yet Anytus--they cannot, for a bad man is not permitted to\ninjure a better than himself. I do not deny that Anytus may, perhaps, kill\nhim, or drive him into exile, or deprive him of civil rights; and he may\nimagine, and others may imagine, that he is inflicting a great injury upon\nhim: but there I do not agree. For the evil of doing as he is doing--the\nevil of unjustly taking away the life of another--is greater far.\n\nAnd now, Athenians, I am not going to argue for my own sake, as you may\nthink, but for yours, that you may not sin against the God by condemning\nme, who am his gift to you. For if you kill me you will not easily find a\nsuccessor to me, who, if I may use such a ludicrous figure of speech, am a\nsort of gadfly, given to the state by God; and the state is a great and\nnoble steed who is tardy in his motions owing to his very size, and\nrequires to be stirred into life. I am that gadfly which God has attached\nto the state, and all day long and in all places am always fastening upon\nyou, arousing and persuading and reproaching you. You will not easily find\nanother like me, and therefore I would advise you to spare me. I dare say\nthat you may feel out of temper (like a person who is suddenly awakened\nfrom sleep), and you think that you might easily strike me dead as Anytus\nadvises, and then you would sleep on for the remainder of your lives,\nunless God in his care of you sent you another gadfly. When I say that I\nam given to you by God, the proof of my mission is this:--if I had been\nlike other men, I should not have neglected all my own concerns or\npatiently seen the neglect of them during all these years, and have been\ndoing yours, coming to you individually like a father or elder brother,\nexhorting you to regard virtue; such conduct, I say, would be unlike human\nnature. If I had gained anything, or if my exhortations had been paid,\nthere would have been some sense in my doing so; but now, as you will\nperceive, not even the impudence of my accusers dares to say that I have\never exacted or sought pay of any one; of that they have no witness. And I\nhave a sufficient witness to the truth of what I say--my poverty.\n\nSome one may wonder why I go about in private giving advice and busying\nmyself with the concerns of others, but do not venture to come forward in\npublic and advise the state. I will tell you why. You have heard me speak\nat sundry times and in divers places of an oracle or sign which comes to\nme, and is the divinity which Meletus ridicules in the indictment. This\nsign, which is a kind of voice, first began to come to me when I was a\nchild; it always forbids but never commands me to do anything which I am\ngoing to do. This is what deters me from being a politician. And rightly,\nas I think. For I am certain, O men of Athens, that if I had engaged in\npolitics, I should have perished long ago, and done no good either to you\nor to myself. And do not be offended at my telling you the truth: for the\ntruth is, that no man who goes to war with you or any other multitude,\nhonestly striving against the many lawless and unrighteous deeds which are\ndone in a state, will save his life; he who will fight for the right, if he\nwould live even for a brief space, must have a private station and not a\npublic one.\n\nI can give you convincing evidence of what I say, not words only, but what\nyou value far more--actions. Let me relate to you a passage of my own life\nwhich will prove to you that I should never have yielded to injustice from\nany fear of death, and that 'as I should have refused to yield' I must have\ndied at once. I will tell you a tale of the courts, not very interesting\nperhaps, but nevertheless true. The only office of state which I ever\nheld, O men of Athens, was that of senator: the tribe Antiochis, which is\nmy tribe, had the presidency at the trial of the generals who had not taken\nup the bodies of the slain after the battle of Arginusae; and you proposed\nto try them in a body, contrary to law, as you all thought afterwards; but\nat the time I was the only one of the Prytanes who was opposed to the\nillegality, and I gave my vote against you; and when the orators threatened\nto impeach and arrest me, and you called and shouted, I made up my mind\nthat I would run the risk, having law and justice with me, rather than take\npart in your injustice because I feared imprisonment and death. This\nhappened in the days of the democracy. But when the oligarchy of the\nThirty was in power, they sent for me and four others into the rotunda, and\nbade us bring Leon the Salaminian from Salamis, as they wanted to put him\nto death. This was a specimen of the sort of commands which they were\nalways giving with the view of implicating as many as possible in their\ncrimes; and then I showed, not in word only but in deed, that, if I may be\nallowed to use such an expression, I cared not a straw for death, and that\nmy great and only care was lest I should do an unrighteous or unholy thing.\nFor the strong arm of that oppressive power did not frighten me into doing\nwrong; and when we came out of the rotunda the other four went to Salamis\nand fetched Leon, but I went quietly home. For which I might have lost my\nlife, had not the power of the Thirty shortly afterwards come to an end.\nAnd many will witness to my words.\n\nNow do you really imagine that I could have survived all these years, if I\nhad led a public life, supposing that like a good man I had always\nmaintained the right and had made justice, as I ought, the first thing? No\nindeed, men of Athens, neither I nor any other man. But I have been always\nthe same in all my actions, public as well as private, and never have I\nyielded any base compliance to those who are slanderously termed my\ndisciples, or to any other. Not that I have any regular disciples. But if\nany one likes to come and hear me while I am pursuing my mission, whether\nhe be young or old, he is not excluded. Nor do I converse only with those\nwho pay; but any one, whether he be rich or poor, may ask and answer me and\nlisten to my words; and whether he turns out to be a bad man or a good one,\nneither result can be justly imputed to me; for I never taught or professed\nto teach him anything. And if any one says that he has ever learned or\nheard anything from me in private which all the world has not heard, let me\ntell you that he is lying.\n\nBut I shall be asked, Why do people delight in continually conversing with\nyou? I have told you already, Athenians, the whole truth about this\nmatter: they like to hear the cross-examination of the pretenders to\nwisdom; there is amusement in it. Now this duty of cross-examining other\nmen has been imposed upon me by God; and has been signified to me by\noracles, visions, and in every way in which the will of divine power was\never intimated to any one. This is true, O Athenians, or, if not true,\nwould be soon refuted. If I am or have been corrupting the youth, those of\nthem who are now grown up and have become sensible that I gave them bad\nadvice in the days of their youth should come forward as accusers, and take\ntheir revenge; or if they do not like to come themselves, some of their\nrelatives, fathers, brothers, or other kinsmen, should say what evil their\nfamilies have suffered at my hands. Now is their time. Many of them I see\nin the court. There is Crito, who is of the same age and of the same deme\nwith myself, and there is Critobulus his son, whom I also see. Then again\nthere is Lysanias of Sphettus, who is the father of Aeschines--he is\npresent; and also there is Antiphon of Cephisus, who is the father of\nEpigenes; and there are the brothers of several who have associated with\nme. There is Nicostratus the son of Theosdotides, and the brother of\nTheodotus (now Theodotus himself is dead, and therefore he, at any rate,\nwill not seek to stop him); and there is Paralus the son of Demodocus, who\nhad a brother Theages; and Adeimantus the son of Ariston, whose brother\nPlato is present; and Aeantodorus, who is the brother of Apollodorus, whom\nI also see. I might mention a great many others, some of whom Meletus\nshould have produced as witnesses in the course of his speech; and let him\nstill produce them, if he has forgotten--I will make way for him. And let\nhim say, if he has any testimony of the sort which he can produce. Nay,\nAthenians, the very opposite is the truth. For all these are ready to\nwitness on behalf of the corrupter, of the injurer of their kindred, as\nMeletus and Anytus call me; not the corrupted youth only--there might have\nbeen a motive for that--but their uncorrupted elder relatives. Why should\nthey too support me with their testimony? Why, indeed, except for the sake\nof truth and justice, and because they know that I am speaking the truth,\nand that Meletus is a liar.\n\nWell, Athenians, this and the like of this is all the defence which I have\nto offer. Yet a word more. Perhaps there may be some one who is offended\nat me, when he calls to mind how he himself on a similar, or even a less\nserious occasion, prayed and entreated the judges with many tears, and how\nhe produced his children in court, which was a moving spectacle, together\nwith a host of relations and friends; whereas I, who am probably in danger\nof my life, will do none of these things. The contrast may occur to his\nmind, and he may be set against me, and vote in anger because he is\ndispleased at me on this account. Now if there be such a person among\nyou,--mind, I do not say that there is,--to him I may fairly reply: My\nfriend, I am a man, and like other men, a creature of flesh and blood, and\nnot 'of wood or stone,' as Homer says; and I have a family, yes, and sons,\nO Athenians, three in number, one almost a man, and two others who are\nstill young; and yet I will not bring any of them hither in order to\npetition you for an acquittal. And why not? Not from any self-assertion\nor want of respect for you. Whether I am or am not afraid of death is\nanother question, of which I will not now speak. But, having regard to\npublic opinion, I feel that such conduct would be discreditable to myself,\nand to you, and to the whole state. One who has reached my years, and who\nhas a name for wisdom, ought not to demean himself. Whether this opinion\nof me be deserved or not, at any rate the world has decided that Socrates\nis in some way superior to other men. And if those among you who are said\nto be superior in wisdom and courage, and any other virtue, demean\nthemselves in this way, how shameful is their conduct! I have seen men of\nreputation, when they have been condemned, behaving in the strangest\nmanner: they seemed to fancy that they were going to suffer something\ndreadful if they died, and that they could be immortal if you only allowed\nthem to live; and I think that such are a dishonour to the state, and that\nany stranger coming in would have said of them that the most eminent men of\nAthens, to whom the Athenians themselves give honour and command, are no\nbetter than women. And I say that these things ought not to be done by\nthose of us who have a reputation; and if they are done, you ought not to\npermit them; you ought rather to show that you are far more disposed to\ncondemn the man who gets up a doleful scene and makes the city ridiculous,\nthan him who holds his peace.\n\nBut, setting aside the question of public opinion, there seems to be\nsomething wrong in asking a favour of a judge, and thus procuring an\nacquittal, instead of informing and convincing him. For his duty is, not\nto make a present of justice, but to give judgment; and he has sworn that\nhe will judge according to the laws, and not according to his own good\npleasure; and we ought not to encourage you, nor should you allow\nyourselves to be encouraged, in this habit of perjury--there can be no\npiety in that. Do not then require me to do what I consider dishonourable\nand impious and wrong, especially now, when I am being tried for impiety on\nthe indictment of Meletus. For if, O men of Athens, by force of persuasion\nand entreaty I could overpower your oaths, then I should be teaching you to\nbelieve that there are no gods, and in defending should simply convict\nmyself of the charge of not believing in them. But that is not so--far\notherwise. For I do believe that there are gods, and in a sense higher\nthan that in which any of my accusers believe in them. And to you and to\nGod I commit my cause, to be determined by you as is best for you and me.\n\n...\n\nThere are many reasons why I am not grieved, O men of Athens, at the vote\nof condemnation. I expected it, and am only surprised that the votes are\nso nearly equal; for I had thought that the majority against me would have\nbeen far larger; but now, had thirty votes gone over to the other side, I\nshould have been acquitted. And I may say, I think, that I have escaped\nMeletus. I may say more; for without the assistance of Anytus and Lycon,\nany one may see that he would not have had a fifth part of the votes, as\nthe law requires, in which case he would have incurred a fine of a thousand\ndrachmae.\n\nAnd so he proposes death as the penalty. And what shall I propose on my\npart, O men of Athens? Clearly that which is my due. And what is my due?\nWhat return shall be made to the man who has never had the wit to be idle\nduring his whole life; but has been careless of what the many care for--\nwealth, and family interests, and military offices, and speaking in the\nassembly, and magistracies, and plots, and parties. Reflecting that I was\nreally too honest a man to be a politician and live, I did not go where I\ncould do no good to you or to myself; but where I could do the greatest\ngood privately to every one of you, thither I went, and sought to persuade\nevery man among you that he must look to himself, and seek virtue and\nwisdom before he looks to his private interests, and look to the state\nbefore he looks to the interests of the state; and that this should be the\norder which he observes in all his actions. What shall be done to such an\none? Doubtless some good thing, O men of Athens, if he has his reward; and\nthe good should be of a kind suitable to him. What would be a reward\nsuitable to a poor man who is your benefactor, and who desires leisure that\nhe may instruct you? There can be no reward so fitting as maintenance in\nthe Prytaneum, O men of Athens, a reward which he deserves far more than\nthe citizen who has won the prize at Olympia in the horse or chariot race,\nwhether the chariots were drawn by two horses or by many. For I am in\nwant, and he has enough; and he only gives you the appearance of happiness,\nand I give you the reality. And if I am to estimate the penalty fairly, I\nshould say that maintenance in the Prytaneum is the just return.\n\nPerhaps you think that I am braving you in what I am saying now, as in what\nI said before about the tears and prayers. But this is not so. I speak\nrather because I am convinced that I never intentionally wronged any one,\nalthough I cannot convince you--the time has been too short; if there were\na law at Athens, as there is in other cities, that a capital cause should\nnot be decided in one day, then I believe that I should have convinced you.\nBut I cannot in a moment refute great slanders; and, as I am convinced that\nI never wronged another, I will assuredly not wrong myself. I will not say\nof myself that I deserve any evil, or propose any penalty. Why should I?\nbecause I am afraid of the penalty of death which Meletus proposes? When I\ndo not know whether death is a good or an evil, why should I propose a\npenalty which would certainly be an evil? Shall I say imprisonment? And\nwhy should I live in prison, and be the slave of the magistrates of the\nyear--of the Eleven? Or shall the penalty be a fine, and imprisonment\nuntil the fine is paid? There is the same objection. I should have to lie\nin prison, for money I have none, and cannot pay. And if I say exile (and\nthis may possibly be the penalty which you will affix), I must indeed be\nblinded by the love of life, if I am so irrational as to expect that when\nyou, who are my own citizens, cannot endure my discourses and words, and\nhave found them so grievous and odious that you will have no more of them,\nothers are likely to endure me. No indeed, men of Athens, that is not very\nlikely. And what a life should I lead, at my age, wandering from city to\ncity, ever changing my place of exile, and always being driven out! For I\nam quite sure that wherever I go, there, as here, the young men will flock\nto me; and if I drive them away, their elders will drive me out at their\nrequest; and if I let them come, their fathers and friends will drive me\nout for their sakes.\n\nSome one will say: Yes, Socrates, but cannot you hold your tongue, and\nthen you may go into a foreign city, and no one will interfere with you?\nNow I have great difficulty in making you understand my answer to this.\nFor if I tell you that to do as you say would be a disobedience to the God,\nand therefore that I cannot hold my tongue, you will not believe that I am\nserious; and if I say again that daily to discourse about virtue, and of\nthose other things about which you hear me examining myself and others, is\nthe greatest good of man, and that the unexamined life is not worth living,\nyou are still less likely to believe me. Yet I say what is true, although\na thing of which it is hard for me to persuade you. Also, I have never\nbeen accustomed to think that I deserve to suffer any harm. Had I money I\nmight have estimated the offence at what I was able to pay, and not have\nbeen much the worse. But I have none, and therefore I must ask you to\nproportion the fine to my means. Well, perhaps I could afford a mina, and\ntherefore I propose that penalty: Plato, Crito, Critobulus, and\nApollodorus, my friends here, bid me say thirty minae, and they will be the\nsureties. Let thirty minae be the penalty; for which sum they will be\nample security to you.\n\n...\n\nNot much time will be gained, O Athenians, in return for the evil name\nwhich you will get from the detractors of the city, who will say that you\nkilled Socrates, a wise man; for they will call me wise, even although I am\nnot wise, when they want to reproach you. If you had waited a little\nwhile, your desire would have been fulfilled in the course of nature. For\nI am far advanced in years, as you may perceive, and not far from death. I\nam speaking now not to all of you, but only to those who have condemned me\nto death. And I have another thing to say to them: you think that I was\nconvicted because I had no words of the sort which would have procured my\nacquittal--I mean, if I had thought fit to leave nothing undone or unsaid.\nNot so; the deficiency which led to my conviction was not of words--\ncertainly not. But I had not the boldness or impudence or inclination to\naddress you as you would have liked me to do, weeping and wailing and\nlamenting, and saying and doing many things which you have been accustomed\nto hear from others, and which, as I maintain, are unworthy of me. I\nthought at the time that I ought not to do anything common or mean when in\ndanger: nor do I now repent of the style of my defence; I would rather die\nhaving spoken after my manner, than speak in your manner and live. For\nneither in war nor yet at law ought I or any man to use every way of\nescaping death. Often in battle there can be no doubt that if a man will\nthrow away his arms, and fall on his knees before his pursuers, he may\nescape death; and in other dangers there are other ways of escaping death,\nif a man is willing to say and do anything. The difficulty, my friends, is\nnot to avoid death, but to avoid unrighteousness; for that runs faster than\ndeath. I am old and move slowly, and the slower runner has overtaken me,\nand my accusers are keen and quick, and the faster runner, who is\nunrighteousness, has overtaken them. And now I depart hence condemned by\nyou to suffer the penalty of death,--they too go their ways condemned by\nthe truth to suffer the penalty of villainy and wrong; and I must abide by\nmy award--let them abide by theirs. I suppose that these things may be\nregarded as fated,--and I think that they are well.\n\nAnd now, O men who have condemned me, I would fain prophesy to you; for I\nam about to die, and in the hour of death men are gifted with prophetic\npower. And I prophesy to you who are my murderers, that immediately after\nmy departure punishment far heavier than you have inflicted on me will\nsurely await you. Me you have killed because you wanted to escape the\naccuser, and not to give an account of your lives. But that will not be as\nyou suppose: far otherwise. For I say that there will be more accusers of\nyou than there are now; accusers whom hitherto I have restrained: and as\nthey are younger they will be more inconsiderate with you, and you will be\nmore offended at them. If you think that by killing men you can prevent\nsome one from censuring your evil lives, you are mistaken; that is not a\nway of escape which is either possible or honourable; the easiest and the\nnoblest way is not to be disabling others, but to be improving yourselves.\nThis is the prophecy which I utter before my departure to the judges who\nhave condemned me.\n\nFriends, who would have acquitted me, I would like also to talk with you\nabout the thing which has come to pass, while the magistrates are busy, and\nbefore I go to the place at which I must die. Stay then a little, for we\nmay as well talk with one another while there is time. You are my friends,\nand I should like to show you the meaning of this event which has happened\nto me. O my judges--for you I may truly call judges--I should like to tell\nyou of a wonderful circumstance. Hitherto the divine faculty of which the\ninternal oracle is the source has constantly been in the habit of opposing\nme even about trifles, if I was going to make a slip or error in any\nmatter; and now as you see there has come upon me that which may be\nthought, and is generally believed to be, the last and worst evil. But the\noracle made no sign of opposition, either when I was leaving my house in\nthe morning, or when I was on my way to the court, or while I was speaking,\nat anything which I was going to say; and yet I have often been stopped in\nthe middle of a speech, but now in nothing I either said or did touching\nthe matter in hand has the oracle opposed me. What do I take to be the\nexplanation of this silence? I will tell you. It is an intimation that\nwhat has happened to me is a good, and that those of us who think that\ndeath is an evil are in error. For the customary sign would surely have\nopposed me had I been going to evil and not to good.\n\nLet us reflect in another way, and we shall see that there is great reason\nto hope that death is a good; for one of two things--either death is a\nstate of nothingness and utter unconsciousness, or, as men say, there is a\nchange and migration of the soul from this world to another. Now if you\nsuppose that there is no consciousness, but a sleep like the sleep of him\nwho is undisturbed even by dreams, death will be an unspeakable gain. For\nif a person were to select the night in which his sleep was undisturbed\neven by dreams, and were to compare with this the other days and nights of\nhis life, and then were to tell us how many days and nights he had passed\nin the course of his life better and more pleasantly than this one, I think\nthat any man, I will not say a private man, but even the great king will\nnot find many such days or nights, when compared with the others. Now if\ndeath be of such a nature, I say that to die is gain; for eternity is then\nonly a single night. But if death is the journey to another place, and\nthere, as men say, all the dead abide, what good, O my friends and judges,\ncan be greater than this? If indeed when the pilgrim arrives in the world\nbelow, he is delivered from the professors of justice in this world, and\nfinds the true judges who are said to give judgment there, Minos and\nRhadamanthus and Aeacus and Triptolemus, and other sons of God who were\nrighteous in their own life, that pilgrimage will be worth making. What\nwould not a man give if he might converse with Orpheus and Musaeus and\nHesiod and Homer? Nay, if this be true, let me die again and again. I\nmyself, too, shall have a wonderful interest in there meeting and\nconversing with Palamedes, and Ajax the son of Telamon, and any other\nancient hero who has suffered death through an unjust judgment; and there\nwill be no small pleasure, as I think, in comparing my own sufferings with\ntheirs. Above all, I shall then be able to continue my search into true\nand false knowledge; as in this world, so also in the next; and I shall\nfind out who is wise, and who pretends to be wise, and is not. What would\nnot a man give, O judges, to be able to examine the leader of the great\nTrojan expedition; or Odysseus or Sisyphus, or numberless others, men and\nwomen too! What infinite delight would there be in conversing with them\nand asking them questions! In another world they do not put a man to death\nfor asking questions: assuredly not. For besides being happier than we\nare, they will be immortal, if what is said is true.\n\nWherefore, O judges, be of good cheer about death, and know of a certainty,\nthat no evil can happen to a good man, either in life or after death. He\nand his are not neglected by the gods; nor has my own approaching end\nhappened by mere chance. But I see clearly that the time had arrived when\nit was better for me to die and be released from trouble; wherefore the\noracle gave no sign. For which reason, also, I am not angry with my\ncondemners, or with my accusers; they have done me no harm, although they\ndid not mean to do me any good; and for this I may gently blame them.\n\nStill I have a favour to ask of them. When my sons are grown up, I would\nask you, O my friends, to punish them; and I would have you trouble them,\nas I have troubled you, if they seem to care about riches, or anything,\nmore than about virtue; or if they pretend to be something when they are\nreally nothing,--then reprove them, as I have reproved you, for not caring\nabout that for which they ought to care, and thinking that they are\nsomething when they are really nothing. And if you do this, both I and my\nsons will have received justice at your hands.\n\nThe hour of departure has arrived, and we go our ways--I to die, and you to\nlive. Which is better God only knows.",
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