The Project Gutenberg eBook of Apology, by Plato

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Apology

by Plato

Translated by Benjamin Jowett

Contents

INTRODUCTION.

In what relation the “Apology” of Plato stands to the real defenceof Socrates,wooden blocks for 5 year olds under 100 dollars there are no means of determining. It certainly agrees in tone andcharacter with the description of Xenophon, who says in the“Memorabilia” that Socrates might have been acquitted “if inany moderate degree he would have conciliated the favour of the dicasts;”and who informs us in another passage, on the testimony of Hermogenes, thefriend of Socrates, that he had no wish to live; and that the divine signrefused to allow him to prepare a defence, and also that Socrates himselfdeclared this to be unnecessary, on the ground that all his life long he hadbeen preparing against that hour. For the speech breathes throughout a spiritof defiance, “ut non supplex aut reus sed magister aut dominusvideretur esse judicum” (Cic. “de Orat.” i. 54); and theloose and desultory style is an imitation of the “accustomedmanner” in which Socrates spoke in “the agoraand among thetables of the money-changers.” The allusion in the “Crito”(45 B) may, perhaps, be adduced as a further evidence of the literal accuracyof some parts (37 C, D). But in the main it must be regarded as the ideal ofSocrates, according to Plato’s conception of him, appearing in thegreatest and most public scene of his life, and in the height of his triumph,when he is weakest, and yet his mastery over mankind is greatest, and hishabitual irony acquires a new meaning and a sort of tragic pathos in the faceof death. The facts of his life are summed up, and the features of hischaracter are brought out as if by accident in the course of the defence. Theconversational manner, the seeming want of arrangement, the ironicalsimplicity, are found to result in a perfect work of art, which is the portraitof Socrates.

Yet some of the topics may have been actually used by Socrates; and therecollection of his very words may have rung in the ears of his disciple. The“Apology” of Plato may be compared generally with those speeches ofThucydides in which he has embodied his conception of the lofty character andpolicy of the great Pericles, and which at the same time furnish a commentaryon the situation of affairs from the point of view of the historian. So in the“Apology” there is an ideal rather than a literal truth; much issaid which was not said, and is only Plato’s view of the situation. Platowas not, like Xenophon, a chronicler of facts; he does not appear in any of hiswritings to have aimed at literal accuracy. He is not therefore to besupplemented from the Memorabilia and Symposium of Xenophon, who belongs to anentirely different class of writers. The Apology of Plato is not the report ofwhat Socrates said, but an elaborate composition, quite as much so in fact asone of the Dialogues. And we may perhaps even indulge in the fancy that theactual defence of Socrates was as much greater than the Platonic defence as themaster was greater than the disciple. But in any case, some of the words usedby him must have been remembered, and some of the facts recorded must haveactually occurred. It is significant that Plato is said to have been present atthe defence (Apol.), as he is also said to have been absent at the last scenein the “Phædo”. Is it fanciful to suppose that he meant to give thestamp of authenticity to the one and not to the other?—especially when weconsider that these two passages are the only ones in which Plato makes mentionof himself. The circumstance that Plato was to be one of his sureties for thepayment of the fine which he proposed has the appearance of truth. Moresuspicious is the statement that Socrates received the first impulse to hisfavourite calling of cross-examining the world from the Oracle of Delphi; forhe must already have been famous before Chaerephon went to consult the Oracle(Riddell), and the story is of a kind which is very likely to have beeninvented. On the whole we arrive at the conclusion that the“Apology” is true to the character of Socrates, but we cannot showthat any single sentence in it was actually spoken by him. It breathes thespirit of Socrates, but has been cast anew in the mould of Plato.

There is not much in the other Dialogues which can be compared with the“Apology”. The same recollection of his master may have beenpresent to the mind of Plato when depicting the sufferings of the Just in the“Republic”. The “Crito” may also be regarded as a sortof appendage to the “Apology”, in which Socrates, who has defiedthe judges, is nevertheless represented as scrupulously obedient to the laws.The idealization of the sufferer is carried still further in the“Georgias”, in which the thesis is maintained, that “tosuffer is better than to do evil;” and the art of rhetoric is describedas only useful for the purpose of self-accusation. The parallelisms which occurin the so-called “Apology” of Xenophon are not worth noticing,because the writing in which they are contained is manifestly spurious. Thestatements of the “Memorabilia” respecting the trial and death ofSocrates agree generally with Plato; but they have lost the flavour of Socraticirony in the narrative of Xenophon.

The “Apology” or Platonic defence of Socrates is divided into threeparts: 1st. The defence properly so called; 2nd. The shorter address inmitigation of the penalty; 3rd. The last words of prophetic rebuke andexhortation.

The first part commences with an apology for his colloquial style; he is, as hehas always been, the enemy of rhetoric, and knows of no rhetoric but truth; hewill not falsify his character by making a speech. Then he proceeds to dividehis accusers into two classes; first, there is the namelessaccuser—public opinion. All the world from their earliest years had heardthat he was a corrupter of youth, and had seen him caricatured in the“Clouds” of Aristophanes. Secondly, there are the professedaccusers, who are but the mouth-piece of the others. The accusations of bothmight be summed up in a formula. The first say, “Socrates is an evil-doerand a curious person, searching into things under the earth and above theheaven; and making the worse appear the better cause, and teaching all this toothers.” The second, “Socrates is an evil-doer and corrupter of theyouth, who does not receive the gods whom the state receives, but introducesother new divinities.” These last words appear to have been the actualindictment (compare Xen. Mem.); and the previous formula, which is a summary ofpublic opinion, assumes the same legal style.

The answer begins by clearing up a confusion. In the representations of theComic poets, and in the opinion of the multitude, he had been identified withthe teachers of physical science and with the Sophists. But this was an error.For both of them he professes a respect in the open court, which contrasts withhis manner of speaking about them in other places. (Compare for Anaxagoras,Phædo, Laws; for the Sophists, Meno, Republic, Tim., Theaet., Soph., etc.) Butat the same time he shows that he is not one of them. Of natural philosophy heknows nothing; not that he despises such pursuits, but the fact is that he isignorant of them, and never says a word about them. Nor is he paid for givinginstruction—that is another mistaken notion:—he has nothing toteach. But he commends Evenus for teaching virtue at such a“moderate” rate as five minæ. Something of the “accustomedirony,” which may perhaps be expected to sleep in the ear of themultitude, is lurking here.

He then goes on to explain the reason why he is in such an evil name. That hadarisen out of a peculiar mission which he had taken upon himself. Theenthusiastic Chaerephon (probably in anticipation of the answer which hereceived) had gone to Delphi and asked the oracle if there was any man wiserthan Socrates; and the answer was, that there was no man wiser. What could bethe meaning of this—that he who knew nothing, and knew that he knewnothing, should be declared by the oracle to be the wisest of men? Reflectingupon the answer, he determined to refute it by finding “a wiser;”and first he went to the politicians, and then to the poets, and then to thecraftsmen, but always with the same result—he found that they knewnothing, or hardly anything more than himself; and that the little advantagewhich in some cases they possessed was more than counter-balanced by theirconceit of knowledge. He knew nothing, and knew that he knew nothing: they knewlittle or nothing, and imagined that they knew all things. Thus he had passedhis life as a sort of missionary in detecting the pretended wisdom of mankind;and this occupation had quite absorbed him and taken him away both from publicand private affairs. Young men of the richer sort had made a pastime of thesame pursuit, “which was not unamusing.” And hence bitter enmitieshad arisen; the professors of knowledge had revenged themselves by calling hima villainous corrupter of youth, and by repeating the commonplaces aboutatheism and materialism and sophistry, which are the stock-accusations againstall philosophers when there is nothing else to be said of them.

The second accusation he meets by interrogating Meletus, who is present and canbe interrogated. “If he is the corrupter, who is the improver of thecitizens?” (Compare Meno.) “All men everywhere.” But howabsurd, how contrary to analogy is this! How inconceivable too, that he shouldmake the citizens worse when he has to live with them. This surely cannot beintentional; and if unintentional, he ought to have been instructed by Meletus,and not accused in the court.

But there is another part of the indictment which says that he teaches men notto receive the gods whom the city receives, and has other new gods. “Isthat the way in which he is supposed to corrupt the youth?” “Yes,it is.” “Has he only new gods, or none at all?” “Noneat all.” “What, not even the sun and moon?” “No; why,he says that the sun is a stone, and the moon earth.” That, repliesSocrates, is the old confusion about Anaxagoras; the Athenian people are not soignorant as to attribute to the influence of Socrates notions which have foundtheir way into the drama, and may be learned at the theatre. Socratesundertakes to show that Meletus (rather unjustifiably) has been compounding ariddle in this part of the indictment: “There are no gods, but Socratesbelieves in the existence of the sons of gods, which is absurd.”

Leaving Meletus, who has had enough words spent upon him, he returns to theoriginal accusation. The question may be asked, Why will he persist infollowing a profession which leads him to death? Why?—because he mustremain at his post where the god has placed him, as he remained at Potidaea,and Amphipolis, and Delium, where the generals placed him. Besides, he is notso overwise as to imagine that he knows whether death is a good or an evil; andhe is certain that desertion of his duty is an evil. Anytus is quite right insaying that they should never have indicted him if they meant to let him go.For he will certainly obey God rather than man; and will continue to preach toall men of all ages the necessity of virtue and improvement; and if they refuseto listen to him he will still persevere and reprove them. This is his way ofcorrupting the youth, which he will not cease to follow in obedience to thegod, even if a thousand deaths await him.

He is desirous that they should let him live—not for his own sake, butfor theirs; because he is their heaven-sent friend (and they will never havesuch another), or, as he may be ludicrously described, he is the gadfly whostirs the generous steed into motion. Why then has he never taken part inpublic affairs? Because the familiar divine voice has hindered him; if he hadbeen a public man, and had fought for the right, as he would certainly havefought against the many, he would not have lived, and could therefore have doneno good. Twice in public matters he has risked his life for the sake ofjustice—once at the trial of the generals; and again in resistance to thetyrannical commands of the Thirty.

But, though not a public man, he has passed his days in instructing thecitizens without fee or reward—this was his mission. Whether hisdisciples have turned out well or ill, he cannot justly be charged with theresult, for he never promised to teach them anything. They might come if theyliked, and they might stay away if they liked: and they did come, because theyfound an amusement in hearing the pretenders to wisdom detected. If they havebeen corrupted, their elder relatives (if not themselves) might surely comeinto court and witness against him, and there is an opportunity still for themto appear. But their fathers and brothers all appear in court (including“this” Plato), to witness on his behalf; and if their relatives arecorrupted, at least they are uncorrupted; “and they are my witnesses. Forthey know that I am speaking the truth, and that Meletus is lying.”

This is about all that he has to say. He will not entreat the judges to sparehis life; neither will he present a spectacle of weeping children, although he,too, is not made of “rock or oak.” Some of the judges themselvesmay have complied with this practice on similar occasions, and he trusts thatthey will not be angry with him for not following their example. But he feelsthat such conduct brings discredit on the name of Athens: he feels too, thatthe judge has sworn not to give away justice; and he cannot be guilty of theimpiety of asking the judge to break his oath, when he is himself being triedfor impiety.

As he expected, and probably intended, he is convicted. And now the tone of thespeech, instead of being more conciliatory, becomes more lofty and commanding.Anytus proposes death as the penalty: and what counter-proposition shall hemake? He, the benefactor of the Athenian people, whose whole life has beenspent in doing them good, should at least have the Olympic victor’sreward of maintenance in the Prytaneum. Or why should he propose anycounter-penalty when he does not know whether death, which Anytus proposes, isa good or an evil? And he is certain that imprisonment is an evil, exile is anevil. Loss of money might be an evil, but then he has none to give; perhaps hecan make up a mina. Let that be the penalty, or, if his friends wish, thirtyminæ; for which they will be excellent securities.

[He is condemned to death.]

He is an old man already, and the Athenians will gain nothing but disgrace bydepriving him of a few years of life. Perhaps he could have escaped, if he hadchosen to throw down his arms and entreat for his life. But he does not at allrepent of the manner of his defence; he would rather die in his own fashionthan live in theirs. For the penalty of unrighteousness is swifter than death;that penalty has already overtaken his accusers as death will soon overtakehim.

And now, as one who is about to die, he will prophesy to them. They have puthim to death in order to escape the necessity of giving an account of theirlives. But his death “will be the seed” of many disciples who willconvince them of their evil ways, and will come forth to reprove them inharsher terms, because they are younger and more inconsiderate.

He would like to say a few words, while there is time, to those who would haveacquitted him. He wishes them to know that the divine sign never interruptedhim in the course of his defence; the reason of which, as he conjectures, isthat the death to which he is going is a good and not an evil. For either deathis a long sleep, the best of sleeps, or a journey to another world in which thesouls of the dead are gathered together, and in which there may be a hope ofseeing the heroes of old—in which, too, there are just judges; and as allare immortal, there can be no fear of any one suffering death for his opinions.

Nothing evil can happen to the good man either in life or death, and his owndeath has been permitted by the gods, because it was better for him to depart;and therefore he forgives his judges because they have done him no harm,although they never meant to do him any good.

He has a last request to make to them—that they will trouble his sons ashe has troubled them, if they appear to prefer riches to virtue, or to thinkthemselves something when they are nothing.

“Few persons will be found to wish that Socrates should have defendedhimself otherwise,”—if, as we must add, his defence was that withwhich Plato has provided him. But leaving this question, which does not admitof a precise solution, we may go on to ask what was the impression which Platoin the “Apology” intended to give of the character and conduct ofhis master in the last great scene? Did he intend to represent him (1) asemploying sophistries; (2) as designedly irritating the judges? Or are thesesophistries to be regarded as belonging to the age in which he lived and to hispersonal character, and this apparent haughtiness as flowing from the naturalelevation of his position?

For example, when he says that it is absurd to suppose that one man is thecorrupter and all the rest of the world the improvers of the youth; or, when heargues that he never could have corrupted the men with whom he had to live; or,when he proves his belief in the gods because he believes in the sons of gods,is he serious or jesting? It may be observed that these sophisms all occur inhis cross-examination of Meletus, who is easily foiled and mastered in thehands of the great dialectician. Perhaps he regarded these answers as goodenough for his accuser, of whom he makes very light. Also there is a touch ofirony in them, which takes them out of the category of sophistry. (CompareEuthyph.)

That the manner in which he defends himself about the lives of his disciples isnot satisfactory, can hardly be denied. Fresh in the memory of the Athenians,and detestable as they deserved to be to the newly restored democracy, were thenames of Alcibiades, Critias, Charmides. It is obviously not a sufficientanswer that Socrates had never professed to teach them anything, and istherefore not justly chargeable with their crimes. Yet the defence, when takenout of this ironical form, is doubtless sound: that his teaching had nothing todo with their evil lives. Here, then, the sophistry is rather in form than insubstance, though we might desire that to such a serious charge Socrates hadgiven a more serious answer.

Truly characteristic of Socrates is another point in his answer, which may alsobe regarded as sophistical. He says that “if he has corrupted the youth,he must have corrupted them involuntarily.” But if, as Socrates argues,all evil is involuntary, then all criminals ought to be admonished and notpunished. In these words the Socratic doctrine of the involuntariness of evilis clearly intended to be conveyed. Here again, as in the former instance, thedefence of Socrates is untrue practically, but may be true in some ideal ortranscendental sense. The commonplace reply, that if he had been guilty ofcorrupting the youth their relations would surely have witnessed against him,with which he concludes this part of his defence, is more satisfactory.

Again, when Socrates argues that he must believe in the gods because hebelieves in the sons of gods, we must remember that this is a refutation not ofthe original indictment, which is consistent enough—“Socrates doesnot receive the gods whom the city receives, and has other newdivinities”—but of the interpretation put upon the words byMeletus, who has affirmed that he is a downright atheist. To this Socratesfairly answers, in accordance with the ideas of the time, that a downrightatheist cannot believe in the sons of gods or in divine things. The notion thatdemons or lesser divinities are the sons of gods is not to be regarded asironical or sceptical. He is arguing “ad hominem” according to thenotions of mythology current in his age. Yet he abstains from saying that hebelieved in the gods whom the State approved. He does not defend himself, asXenophon has defended him, by appealing to his practice of religion. Probablyhe neither wholly believed, nor disbelieved, in the existence of the populargods; he had no means of knowing about them. According to Plato (compare Phædo;Symp.), as well as Xenophon (Memor.), he was punctual in the performance of theleast religious duties; and he must have believed in his own oracular sign, ofwhich he seemed to have an internal witness. But the existence of Apollo orZeus, or the other gods whom the State approves, would have appeared to himboth uncertain and unimportant in comparison of the duty of self-examination,and of those principles of truth and right which he deemed to be the foundationof religion. (Compare Phaedr.; Euthyph.; Republic.)

The second question, whether Plato meant to represent Socrates as braving orirritating his judges, must also be answered in the negative. His irony, hissuperiority, his audacity, “regarding not the person of man,”necessarily flow out of the loftiness of his situation. He is not acting a partupon a great occasion, but he is what he has been all his life long, “aking of men.” He would rather not appear insolent, if he could avoid it(ouch os authadizomenos touto lego). Neither is he desirous of hastening hisown end, for life and death are simply indifferent to him. But such a defenceas would be acceptable to his judges and might procure an acquittal, it is notin his nature to make. He will not say or do anything that might pervert thecourse of justice; he cannot have his tongue bound even “in the throat ofdeath.” With his accusers he will only fence and play, as he had fencedwith other “improvers of youth,” answering the Sophist according tohis sophistry all his life long. He is serious when he is speaking of his ownmission, which seems to distinguish him from all other reformers of mankind,and originates in an accident. The dedication of himself to the improvement ofhis fellow-citizens is not so remarkable as the ironical spirit in which hegoes about doing good only in vindication of the credit of the oracle, and inthe vain hope of finding a wiser man than himself. Yet this singular and almostaccidental character of his mission agrees with the divine sign which,according to our notions, is equally accidental and irrational, and isnevertheless accepted by him as the guiding principle of his life. Socrates isnowhere represented to us as a freethinker or sceptic. There is no reason todoubt his sincerity when he speculates on the possibility of seeing and knowingthe heroes of the Trojan war in another world. On the other hand, his hope ofimmortality is uncertain;—he also conceives of death as a long sleep (inthis respect differing from the Phædo), and at last falls back on resignationto the divine will, and the certainty that no evil can happen to the good maneither in life or death. His absolute truthfulness seems to hinder him fromasserting positively more than this; and he makes no attempt to veil hisignorance in mythology and figures of speech. The gentleness of the first partof the speech contrasts with the aggravated, almost threatening, tone of theconclusion. He characteristically remarks that he will not speak as arhetorician, that is to say, he will not make a regular defence such as Lysiasor one of the orators might have composed for him, or, according to someaccounts, did compose for him. But he first procures himself a hearing byconciliatory words. He does not attack the Sophists; for they were open to thesame charges as himself; they were equally ridiculed by the Comic poets, andalmost equally hateful to Anytus and Meletus. Yet incidentally the antagonismbetween Socrates and the Sophists is allowed to appear. He is poor and they arerich; his profession that he teaches nothing is opposed to their readiness toteach all things; his talking in the marketplace to their private instructions;his tarry-at-home life to their wandering from city to city. The tone which heassumes towards them is one of real friendliness, but also of concealed irony.Towards Anaxagoras, who had disappointed him in his hopes of learning aboutmind and nature, he shows a less kindly feeling, which is also the feeling ofPlato in other passages (Laws). But Anaxagoras had been dead thirty years, andwas beyond the reach of persecution.

It has been remarked that the prophecy of a new generation of teachers whowould rebuke and exhort the Athenian people in harsher and more violent termswas, as far as we know, never fulfilled. No inference can be drawn from thiscircumstance as to the probability of the words attributed to him having beenactually uttered. They express the aspiration of the first martyr ofphilosophy, that he would leave behind him many followers, accompanied by thenot unnatural feeling that they would be fiercer and more inconsiderate intheir words when emancipated from his control.

The above remarks must be understood as applying with any degree of certaintyto the Platonic Socrates only. For, although these or similar words may havebeen spoken by Socrates himself, we cannot exclude the possibility, that likeso much else, e.g.the wisdom of Critias, the poem of Solon, the virtuesof Charmides, they may have been due only to the imagination of Plato. Thearguments of those who maintain that the Apology was composed during theprocess, resting on no evidence, do not require a serious refutation. Nor arethe reasonings of Schleiermacher, who argues that the Platonic defence is anexact or nearly exact reproduction of the words of Socrates, partly becausePlato would not have been guilty of the impiety of altering them, and alsobecause many points of the defence might have been improved and strengthened,at all more conclusive. (See English Translation.) What effect the death ofSocrates produced on the mind of Plato, we cannot certainly determine; nor canwe say how he would or must have written under the circumstances. We observethat the enmity of Aristophanes to Socrates does not prevent Plato fromintroducing them together in the Symposium engaged in friendly intercourse. Noris there any trace in the Dialogues of an attempt to make Anytus or Meletuspersonally odious in the eyes of the Athenian public.

APOLOGY

How you, O Athenians, have been affected by my accusers, I cannot tell; but Iknow that they almost made me forget who I was—so persuasively did theyspeak; and yet they have hardly uttered a word of truth. But of the manyfalsehoods told by them, there was one which quite amazed me;—I mean whenthey said that you should be upon your guard and not allow yourselves to bedeceived by the force of my eloquence. To say this, when they were certain tobe detected as soon as I opened my lips and proved myself to be anything but agreat speaker, did indeed appear to me most shameless—unless by the forceof eloquence they mean the force of truth; for if such is their meaning, Iadmit that I am eloquent. But in how different a way from theirs! Well, as Iwas saying, they have scarcely spoken the truth at all; but from me you shallhear the whole truth: not, however, delivered after their manner in a setoration duly ornamented with words and phrases. No, by heaven! but I shall usethe words and arguments which occur to me at the moment; for I am confident inthe justice of my cause (Or, I am certain that I am right in taking thiscourse.): at my time of life I ought not to be appearing before you, O men ofAthens, in the character of a juvenile orator—let no one expect it of me.And I must beg of you to grant me a favour:—If I defend myself in myaccustomed manner, and you hear me using the words which I have been in thehabit of using in the agora, at the tables of the money-changers, or anywhereelse, I would ask you not to be surprised, and not to interrupt me on thisaccount. For I am more than seventy years of age, and appearing now for thefirst time in a court of law, I am quite a stranger to the language of theplace; and therefore I would have you regard me as if I were really a stranger,whom you would excuse if he spoke in his native tongue, and after the fashionof his country:—Am I making an unfair request of you? Never mind themanner, which may or may not be good; but think only of the truth of my words,and give heed to that: let the speaker speak truly and the judge decide justly.

And first, I have to reply to the older charges and to my first accusers, andthen I will go on to the later ones. For of old I have had many accusers, whohave accused me falsely to you during many years; and I am more afraid of themthan of Anytus and his associates, who are dangerous, too, in their own way.But far more dangerous are the others, who began when you were children, andtook possession of your minds with their falsehoods, telling of one Socrates, awise man, who speculated about the heaven above, and searched into the earthbeneath, and made the worse appear the better cause. The disseminators of thistale are the accusers whom I dread; for their hearers are apt to fancy thatsuch enquirers do not believe in the existence of the gods. And they are many,and their charges against me are of ancient date, and they were made by them inthe days when you were more impressible than you are now—in childhood, orit may have been in youth—and the cause when heard went by default, forthere was none to answer. And hardest of all, I do not know and cannot tell thenames of my accusers; unless in the chance case of a Comic poet. All who fromenvy and malice have persuaded you—some of them having first convincedthemselves—all this class of men are most difficult to deal with; for Icannot have them up here, and cross-examine them, and therefore I must simplyfight with shadows in my own defence, and argue when there is no one whoanswers. I will ask you then to assume with me, as I was saying, that myopponents are of two kinds; one recent, the other ancient: and I hope that youwill see the propriety of my answering the latter first, for these accusationsyou heard long before the others, and much oftener.

Well, then, I must make my defence, and endeavour to clear away in a shorttime, a slander which has lasted a long time. May I succeed, if to succeed befor my good and yours, or likely to avail me in my cause! The task is not aneasy one; I quite understand the nature of it. And so leaving the event withGod, in obedience to the law I will now make my defence.

I will begin at the beginning, and ask what is the accusation which has givenrise to the slander of me, and in fact has encouraged Meletus to proof thischarge against me. Well, what do the slanderers say? They shall be myprosecutors, and I will sum up their words in an affidavit: “Socrates isan evil-doer, and a curious person, who searches into things under the earthand in heaven, and he makes the worse appear the better cause; and he teachesthe aforesaid doctrines to others.” Such is the nature of the accusation:it is just what you have yourselves seen in the comedy of Aristophanes(Aristoph., Clouds.), who has introduced a man whom he calls Socrates, goingabout and saying that he walks in air, and talking a deal of nonsenseconcerning matters of which I do not pretend to know either much orlittle—not that I mean to speak disparagingly of any one who is a studentof natural philosophy. I should be very sorry if Meletus could bring so grave acharge against me. But the simple truth is, O Athenians, that I have nothing todo with physical speculations. Very many of those here present are witnesses tothe truth of this, and to them I appeal. Speak then, you who have heard me, andtell your neighbours whether any of you have ever known me hold forth in fewwords or in many upon such matters...You hear their answer. And from what theysay of this part of the charge you will be able to judge of the truth of therest.

As little foundation is there for the report that I am a teacher, and takemoney; this accusation has no more truth in it than the other. Although, if aman were really able to instruct mankind, to receive money for givinginstruction would, in my opinion, be an honour to him. There is Gorgias ofLeontium, and Prodicus of Ceos, and Hippias of Elis, who go the round of thecities, and are able to persuade the young men to leave their own citizens bywhom they might be taught for nothing, and come to them whom they not only pay,but are thankful if they may be allowed to pay them. There is at this time aParian philosopher residing in Athens, of whom I have heard; and I came to hearof him in this way:—I came across a man who has spent a world of money onthe Sophists, Callias, the son of Hipponicus, and knowing that he had sons, Iasked him: “Callias,” I said, “if your two sons were foals orcalves, there would be no difficulty in finding some one to put over them; weshould hire a trainer of horses, or a farmer probably, who would improve andperfect them in their own proper virtue and excellence; but as they are humanbeings, whom are you thinking of placing over them? Is there any one whounderstands human and political virtue? You must have thought about the matter,for you have sons; is there any one?” “There is,” he said.“Who is he?” said I; “and of what country? and what does hecharge?” “Evenus the Parian,” he replied; “he is theman, and his charge is five minæ.” Happy is Evenus, I said to myself, ifhe really has this wisdom, and teaches at such a moderate charge. Had I thesame, I should have been very proud and conceited; but the truth is that I haveno knowledge of the kind.

I dare say, Athenians, that some one among you will reply, “Yes,Socrates, but what is the origin of these accusations which are brought againstyou; there must have been something strange which you have been doing? Allthese rumours and this talk about you would never have arisen if you had beenlike other men: tell us, then, what is the cause of them, for we should besorry to judge hastily of you.” Now I regard this as a fair challenge,and I will endeavour to explain to you the reason why I am called wise and havesuch an evil fame. Please to attend then. And although some of you may thinkthat I am joking, I declare that I will tell you the entire truth. Men ofAthens, this reputation of mine has come of a certain sort of wisdom which Ipossess. If you ask me what kind of wisdom, I reply, wisdom such as may perhapsbe attained by man, for to that extent I am inclined to believe that I am wise;whereas the persons of whom I was speaking have a superhuman wisdom which I mayfail to describe, because I have it not myself; and he who says that I have,speaks falsely, and is taking away my character. And here, O men of Athens, Imust beg you not to interrupt me, even if I seem to say something extravagant.For the word which I will speak is not mine. I will refer you to a witness whois worthy of credit; that witness shall be the God of Delphi—he will tellyou about my wisdom, if I have any, and of what sort it is. You must have knownChaerephon; he was early a friend of mine, and also a friend of yours, for heshared in the recent exile of the people, and returned with you. Well,Chaerephon, as you know, was very impetuous in all his doings, and he went toDelphi and boldly asked the oracle to tell him whether—as I was saying, Imust beg you not to interrupt—he asked the oracle to tell him whetheranyone was wiser than I was, and the Pythian prophetess answered, that therewas no man wiser. Chaerephon is dead himself; but his brother, who is in court,will confirm the truth of what I am saying.

Why do I mention this? Because I am going to explain to you why I have such anevil name. When I heard the answer, I said to myself, What can the god mean?and what is the interpretation of his riddle? for I know that I have no wisdom,small or great. What then can he mean when he says that I am the wisest of men?And yet he is a god, and cannot lie; that would be against his nature. Afterlong consideration, I thought of a method of trying the question. I reflectedthat if I could only find a man wiser than myself, then I might go to the godwith a refutation in my hand. I should say to him, “Here is a man who iswiser than I am; but you said that I was the wisest.” Accordingly I wentto one who had the reputation of wisdom, and observed him—his name I neednot mention; he was a politician whom I selected for examination—and theresult was as follows: When I began to talk with him, I could not help thinkingthat he was not really wise, although he was thought wise by many, and stillwiser by himself; and thereupon I tried to explain to him that he thoughthimself wise, but was not really wise; and the consequence was that he hatedme, and his enmity was shared by several who were present and heard me. So Ileft him, saying to myself, as I went away: Well, although I do not supposethat either of us knows anything really beautiful and good, I am better offthan he is,—for he knows nothing, and thinks that he knows; I neitherknow nor think that I know. In this latter particular, then, I seem to haveslightly the advantage of him. Then I went to another who had still higherpretensions to wisdom, and my conclusion was exactly the same. Whereupon I madeanother enemy of him, and of many others besides him.

Then I went to one man after another, being not unconscious of the enmity whichI provoked, and I lamented and feared this: but necessity was laid uponme,—the word of God, I thought, ought to be considered first. And I saidto myself, Go I must to all who appear to know, and find out the meaning of theoracle. And I swear to you, Athenians, by the dog I swear!—for I musttell you the truth—the result of my mission was just this: I found thatthe men most in repute were all but the most foolish; and that others lessesteemed were really wiser and better. I will tell you the tale of mywanderings and of the “Herculean” labours, as I may call them,which I endured only to find at last the oracle irrefutable. After thepoliticians, I went to the poets; tragic, dithyrambic, and all sorts. Andthere, I said to myself, you will be instantly detected; now you will find outthat you are more ignorant than they are. Accordingly, I took them some of themost elaborate passages in their own writings, and asked what was the meaningof them—thinking that they would teach me something. Will you believe me?I am almost ashamed to confess the truth, but I must say that there is hardly aperson present who would not have talked better about their poetry than theydid themselves. Then I knew that not by wisdom do poets write poetry, but by asort of genius and inspiration; they are like diviners or soothsayers who alsosay many fine things, but do not understand the meaning of them. The poetsappeared to me to be much in the same case; and I further observed that uponthe strength of their poetry they believed themselves to be the wisest of menin other things in which they were not wise. So I departed, conceiving myselfto be superior to them for the same reason that I was superior to thepoliticians.

At last I went to the artisans. I was conscious that I knew nothing at all, asI may say, and I was sure that they knew many fine things; and here I was notmistaken, for they did know many things of which I was ignorant, and in thisthey certainly were wiser than I was. But I observed that even the goodartisans fell into the same error as the poets;—because they were goodworkmen they thought that they also knew all sorts of high matters, and thisdefect in them overshadowed their wisdom; and therefore I asked myself onbehalf of the oracle, whether I would like to be as I was, neither having theirknowledge nor their ignorance, or like them in both; and I made answer tomyself and to the oracle that I was better off as I was.

This inquisition has led to my having many enemies of the worst and mostdangerous kind, and has given occasion also to many calumnies. And I am calledwise, for my hearers always imagine that I myself possess the wisdom which Ifind wanting in others: but the truth is, O men of Athens, that God only iswise; and by his answer he intends to show that the wisdom of men is worthlittle or nothing; he is not speaking of Socrates, he is only using my name byway of illustration, as if he said, He, O men, is the wisest, who, likeSocrates, knows that his wisdom is in truth worth nothing. And so I go aboutthe world, obedient to the god, and search and make enquiry into the wisdom ofany one, whether citizen or stranger, who appears to be wise; and if he is notwise, then in vindication of the oracle I show him that he is not wise; and myoccupation quite absorbs me, and I have no time to give either to any publicmatter of interest or to any concern of my own, but I am in utter poverty byreason of my devotion to the god.

There is another thing:—young men of the richer classes, who have notmuch to do, come about me of their own accord; they like to hear the pretendersexamined, and they often imitate me, and proceed to examine others; there areplenty of persons, as they quickly discover, who think that they knowsomething, but really know little or nothing; and then those who are examinedby them instead of being angry with themselves are angry with me: Thisconfounded Socrates, they say; this villainous misleader of youth!—andthen if somebody asks them, Why, what evil does he practise or teach? they donot know, and cannot tell; but in order that they may not appear to be at aloss, they repeat the ready-made charges which are used against allphilosophers about teaching things up in the clouds and under the earth, andhaving no gods, and making the worse appear the better cause; for they do notlike to confess that their pretence of knowledge has been detected—whichis the truth; and as they are numerous and ambitious and energetic, and aredrawn up in battle array and have persuasive tongues, they have filled yourears with their loud and inveterate calumnies. And this is the reason why mythree accusers, Meletus and Anytus and Lycon, have set upon me; Meletus, whohas a quarrel with me on behalf of the poets; Anytus, on behalf of thecraftsmen and politicians; Lycon, on behalf of the rhetoricians: and as I saidat the beginning, I cannot expect to get rid of such a mass of calumny all in amoment. And this, O men of Athens, is the truth and the whole truth; I haveconcealed nothing, I have dissembled nothing. And yet, I know that my plainnessof speech makes them hate me, and what is their hatred but a proof that I amspeaking the truth?—Hence has arisen the prejudice against me; and thisis the reason of it, as you will find out either in this or in any futureenquiry.

I have said enough in my defence against the first class of my accusers; I turnto the second class. They are headed by Meletus, that good man and true loverof his country, as he calls himself. Against these, too, I must try to make adefence:—Let their affidavit be read: it contains something of this kind:It says that Socrates is a doer of evil, who corrupts the youth; and who doesnot believe in the gods of the state, but has other new divinities of his own.Such is the charge; and now let us examine the particular counts. He says thatI am a doer of evil, and corrupt the youth; but I say, O men of Athens, thatMeletus is a doer of evil, in that he pretends to be in earnest when he is onlyin jest, and is so eager to bring men to trial from a pretended zeal andinterest about matters in which he really never had the smallest interest. Andthe truth of this I will endeavour to prove to you.

Come hither, Meletus, and let me ask a question of you. You think a great dealabout the improvement of youth?

Yes, I do.

Tell the judges, then, who is their improver; for you must know, as you havetaken the pains to discover their corrupter, and are citing and accusing mebefore them. Speak, then, and tell the judges who their improveris.—Observe, Meletus, that you are silent, and have nothing to say. Butis not this rather disgraceful, and a very considerable proof of what I wassaying, that you have no interest in the matter? Speak up, friend, and tell uswho their improver is.

The laws.

But that, my good sir, is not my meaning. I want to know who the person is,who, in the first place, knows the laws.

The judges, Socrates, who are present in court.

What, do you mean to say, Meletus, that they are able to instruct and improveyouth?

Certainly they are.

What, all of them, or some only and not others?

All of them.

By the goddess Here, that is good news! There are plenty of improvers, then.And what do you say of the audience,—do they improve them?

Yes, they do.

And the senators?

Yes, the senators improve them.

But perhaps the members of the assembly corrupt them?—or do they tooimprove them?

They improve them.

Then every Athenian improves and elevates them; all with the exception ofmyself; and I alone am their corrupter? Is that what you affirm?

That is what I stoutly affirm.

I am very unfortunate if you are right. But suppose I ask you a question: Howabout horses? Does one man do them harm and all the world good? Is not theexact opposite the truth? One man is able to do them good, or at least notmany;—the trainer of horses, that is to say, does them good, and otherswho have to do with them rather injure them? Is not that true, Meletus, ofhorses, or of any other animals? Most assuredly it is; whether you and Anytussay yes or no. Happy indeed would be the condition of youth if they had onecorrupter only, and all the rest of the world were their improvers. But you,Meletus, have sufficiently shown that you never had a thought about the young:your carelessness is seen in your not caring about the very things which youbring against me.

And now, Meletus, I will ask you another question—by Zeus I will: Whichis better, to live among bad citizens, or among good ones? Answer, friend, Isay; the question is one which may be easily answered. Do not the good do theirneighbours good, and the bad do them evil?

Certainly.

And is there anyone who would rather be injured than benefited by those wholive with him? Answer, my good friend, the law requires you toanswer—does any one like to be injured?

Certainly not.

And when you accuse me of corrupting and deteriorating the youth, do you allegethat I corrupt them intentionally or unintentionally?

Intentionally, I say.

But you have just admitted that the good do their neighbours good, and the evildo them evil. Now, is that a truth which your superior wisdom has recognizedthus early in life, and am I, at my age, in such darkness and ignorance as notto know that if a man with whom I have to live is corrupted by me, I am verylikely to be harmed by him; and yet I corrupt him, and intentionally,too—so you say, although neither I nor any other human being is everlikely to be convinced by you. But either I do not corrupt them, or I corruptthem unintentionally; and on either view of the case you lie. If my offence isunintentional, the law has no cognizance of unintentional offences: you oughtto have taken me privately, and warned and admonished me; for if I had beenbetter advised, I should have left off doing what I only didunintentionally—no doubt I should; but you would have nothing to say tome and refused to teach me. And now you bring me up in this court, which is aplace not of instruction, but of punishment.

It will be very clear to you, Athenians, as I was saying, that Meletus has nocare at all, great or small, about the matter. But still I should like to know,Meletus, in what I am affirmed to corrupt the young. I suppose you mean, as Iinfer from your indictment, that I teach them not to acknowledge the gods whichthe state acknowledges, but some other new divinities or spiritual agencies intheir stead. These are the lessons by which I corrupt the youth, as you say.

Yes, that I say emphatically.

Then, by the gods, Meletus, of whom we are speaking, tell me and the court, insomewhat plainer terms, what you mean! for I do not as yet understand whetheryou affirm that I teach other men to acknowledge some gods, and therefore thatI do believe in gods, and am not an entire atheist—this you do not lay tomy charge,—but only you say that they are not the same gods which thecity recognizes—the charge is that they are different gods. Or, do youmean that I am an atheist simply, and a teacher of atheism?

I mean the latter—that you are a complete atheist.

What an extraordinary statement! Why do you think so, Meletus? Do you mean thatI do not believe in the godhead of the sun or moon, like other men?

I assure you, judges, that he does not: for he says that the sun is stone, andthe moon earth.

Friend Meletus, you think that you are accusing Anaxagoras: and you have but abad opinion of the judges, if you fancy them illiterate to such a degree as notto know that these doctrines are found in the books of Anaxagoras theClazomenian, which are full of them. And so, forsooth, the youth are said to betaught them by Socrates, when there are not unfrequently exhibitions of them atthe theatre (Probably in allusion to Aristophanes who caricatured, and toEuripides who borrowed the notions of Anaxagoras, as well as to other dramaticpoets.) (price of admission one drachma at the most); and they might pay theirmoney, and laugh at Socrates if he pretends to father these extraordinaryviews. And so, Meletus, you really think that I do not believe in any god?

I swear by Zeus that you believe absolutely in none at all.

Nobody will believe you, Meletus, and I am pretty sure that you do not believeyourself. I cannot help thinking, men of Athens, that Meletus is reckless andimpudent, and that he has written this indictment in a spirit of merewantonness and youthful bravado. Has he not compounded a riddle, thinking totry me? He said to himself:—I shall see whether the wise Socrates willdiscover my facetious contradiction, or whether I shall be able to deceive himand the rest of them. For he certainly does appear to me to contradict himselfin the indictment as much as if he said that Socrates is guilty of notbelieving in the gods, and yet of believing in them—but this is not likea person who is in earnest.

I should like you, O men of Athens, to join me in examining what I conceive tobe his inconsistency; and do you, Meletus, answer. And I must remind theaudience of my request that they would not make a disturbance if I speak in myaccustomed manner:

Did ever man, Meletus, believe in the existence of human things, and not ofhuman beings?...I wish, men of Athens, that he would answer, and not be alwaystrying to get up an interruption. Did ever any man believe in horsemanship, andnot in horses? or in flute-playing, and not in flute-players? No, my friend; Iwill answer to you and to the court, as you refuse to answer for yourself.There is no man who ever did. But now please to answer the next question: Can aman believe in spiritual and divine agencies, and not in spirits or demigods?

He cannot.

How lucky I am to have extracted that answer, by the assistance of the court!But then you swear in the indictment that I teach and believe in divine orspiritual agencies (new or old, no matter for that); at any rate, I believe inspiritual agencies,—so you say and swear in the affidavit; and yet if Ibelieve in divine beings, how can I help believing in spirits ordemigods;—must I not? To be sure I must; and therefore I may assume thatyour silence gives consent. Now what are spirits or demigods? Are they noteither gods or the sons of gods?

Certainly they are.

But this is what I call the facetious riddle invented by you: the demigods orspirits are gods, and you say first that I do not believe in gods, and thenagain that I do believe in gods; that is, if I believe in demigods. For if thedemigods are the illegitimate sons of gods, whether by the nymphs or by anyother mothers, of whom they are said to be the sons—what human being willever believe that there are no gods if they are the sons of gods? You might aswell affirm the existence of mules, and deny that of horses and asses. Suchnonsense, Meletus, could only have been intended by you to make trial of me.You have put this into the indictment because you had nothing real of which toaccuse me. But no one who has a particle of understanding will ever beconvinced by you that the same men can believe in divine and superhuman things,and yet not believe that there are gods and demigods and heroes.

I have said enough in answer to the charge of Meletus: any elaborate defence isunnecessary, but I know only too well how many are the enmities which I haveincurred, and this is what will be my destruction if I am destroyed;—notMeletus, nor yet Anytus, but the envy and detraction of the world, which hasbeen the death of many good men, and will probably be the death of many more;there is no danger of my being the last of them.

Some one will say: And are you not ashamed, Socrates, of a course of life whichis likely to bring you to an untimely end? To him I may fairly answer: Thereyou are mistaken: a man who is good for anything ought not to calculate thechance of living or dying; he ought only to consider whether in doing anythinghe is doing right or wrong—acting the part of a good man or of a bad.Whereas, upon your view, the heroes who fell at Troy were not good for much,and the son of Thetis above all, who altogether despised danger in comparisonwith disgrace; and when he was so eager to slay Hector, his goddess mother saidto him, that if he avenged his companion Patroclus, and slew Hector, he woulddie himself—“Fate,” she said, in these or the like words,“waits for you next after Hector;” he, receiving this warning,utterly despised danger and death, and instead of fearing them, feared ratherto live in dishonour, and not to avenge his friend. “Let me dieforthwith,” he replies, “and be avenged of my enemy, rather thanabide here by the beaked ships, a laughing-stock and a burden of theearth.” Had Achilles any thought of death and danger? For wherever aman’s place is, whether the place which he has chosen or that in which hehas been placed by a commander, there he ought to remain in the hour of danger;he should not think of death or of anything but of disgrace. And this, O men ofAthens, is a true saying.

Strange, indeed, would be my conduct, O men of Athens, if I who, when I wasordered by the generals whom you chose to command me at Potidaea and Amphipolisand Delium, remained where they placed me, like any other man, facingdeath—if now, when, as I conceive and imagine, God orders me to fulfilthe philosopher’s mission of searching into myself and other men, I wereto desert my post through fear of death, or any other fear; that would indeedbe strange, and I might justly be arraigned in court for denying the existenceof the gods, if I disobeyed the oracle because I was afraid of death, fancyingthat I was wise when I was not wise. For the fear of death is indeed thepretence of wisdom, and not real wisdom, being a pretence of knowing theunknown; and no one knows whether death, which men in their fear apprehend tobe the greatest evil, may not be the greatest good. Is not this ignorance of adisgraceful sort, the ignorance which is the conceit that a man knows what hedoes not know? And in this respect only I believe myself to differ from men ingeneral, and may perhaps claim to be wiser than they are:—that whereas Iknow but little of the world below, I do not suppose that I know: but I do knowthat injustice and disobedience to a better, whether God or man, is evil anddishonourable, and I will never fear or avoid a possible good rather than acertain evil. And therefore if you let me go now, and are not convinced byAnytus, who said that since I had been prosecuted I must be put to death; (orif not that I ought never to have been prosecuted at all); and that if I escapenow, your sons will all be utterly ruined by listening to my words—if yousay to me, Socrates, this time we will not mind Anytus, and you shall be letoff, but upon one condition, that you are not to enquire and speculate in thisway any more, and that if you are caught doing so again you shall die;—ifthis was the condition on which you let me go, I should reply: Men of Athens, Ihonour and love you; but I shall obey God rather than you, and while I havelife and strength I shall never cease from the practice and teaching ofphilosophy, exhorting any one whom I meet and saying to him after my manner:You, my friend,—a citizen of the great and mighty and wise city ofAthens,—are you not ashamed of heaping up the greatest amount of moneyand honour and reputation, and caring so little about wisdom and truth and thegreatest improvement of the soul, which you never regard or heed at all? And ifthe person with whom I am arguing, says: Yes, but I do care; then I do notleave him or let him go at once; but I proceed to interrogate and examine andcross-examine him, and if I think that he has no virtue in him, but only saysthat he has, I reproach him with undervaluing the greater, and overvaluing theless. And I shall repeat the same words to every one whom I meet, young andold, citizen and alien, but especially to the citizens, inasmuch as they are mybrethren. For know that this is the command of God; and I believe that nogreater good has ever happened in the state than my service to the God. For Ido nothing but go about persuading you all, old and young alike, not to takethought for your persons or your properties, but first and chiefly to careabout the greatest improvement of the soul. I tell you that virtue is not givenby money, but that from virtue comes money and every other good of man, publicas well as private. This is my teaching, and if this is the doctrine whichcorrupts the youth, I am a mischievous person. But if any one says that this isnot my teaching, he is speaking an untruth. Wherefore, O men of Athens, I sayto you, do as Anytus bids or not as Anytus bids, and either acquit me or not;but whichever you do, understand that I shall never alter my ways, not even ifI have to die many times.

Men of Athens, do not interrupt, but hear me; there was an understandingbetween us that you should hear me to the end: I have something more to say, atwhich you may be inclined to cry out; but I believe that to hear me will begood for you, and therefore I beg that you will not cry out. I would have youknow, that if you kill such an one as I am, you will injure yourselves morethan you will injure me. Nothing will injure me, not Meletus nor yetAnytus—they cannot, for a bad man is not permitted to injure a betterthan himself. I do not deny that Anytus may, perhaps, kill him, or drive himinto exile, or deprive him of civil rights; and he may imagine, and others mayimagine, that he is inflicting a great injury upon him: but there I do notagree. For the evil of doing as he is doing—the evil of unjustly takingaway the life of another—is greater far.

And now, Athenians, I am not going to argue for my own sake, as you may think,but for yours, that you may not sin against the God by condemning me, who amhis gift to you. For if you kill me you will not easily find a successor to me,who, if I may use such a ludicrous figure of speech, am a sort of gadfly, givento the state by God; and the state is a great and noble steed who is tardy inhis motions owing to his very size, and requires to be stirred into life. I amthat gadfly which God has attached to the state, and all day long and in allplaces am always fastening upon you, arousing and persuading and reproachingyou. You will not easily find another like me, and therefore I would advise youto spare me. I dare say that you may feel out of temper (like a person who issuddenly awakened from sleep), and you think that you might easily strike medead as Anytus advises, and then you would sleep on for the remainder of yourlives, unless God in his care of you sent you another gadfly. When I say that Iam given to you by God, the proof of my mission is this:—if I had beenlike other men, I should not have neglected all my own concerns or patientlyseen the neglect of them during all these years, and have been doing yours,coming to you individually like a father or elder brother, exhorting you toregard virtue; such conduct, I say, would be unlike human nature. If I hadgained anything, or if my exhortations had been paid, there would have beensome sense in my doing so; but now, as you will perceive, not even theimpudence of my accusers dares to say that I have ever exacted or sought pay ofany one; of that they have no witness. And I have a sufficient witness to thetruth of what I say—my poverty.

Some one may wonder why I go about in private giving advice and busying myselfwith the concerns of others, but do not venture to come forward in public andadvise the state. I will tell you why. You have heard me speak at sundry timesand in divers places of an oracle or sign which comes to me, and is thedivinity which Meletus ridicules in the indictment. This sign, which is a kindof voice, first began to come to me when I was a child; it always forbids butnever commands me to do anything which I am going to do. This is what deters mefrom being a politician. And rightly, as I think. For I am certain, O men ofAthens, that if I had engaged in politics, I should have perished long ago, anddone no good either to you or to myself. And do not be offended at my tellingyou the truth: for the truth is, that no man who goes to war with you or anyother multitude, honestly striving against the many lawless and unrighteousdeeds which are done in a state, will save his life; he who will fight for theright, if he would live even for a brief space, must have a private station andnot a public one.

I can give you convincing evidence of what I say, not words only, but what youvalue far more—actions. Let me relate to you a passage of my own lifewhich will prove to you that I should never have yielded to injustice from anyfear of death, and that “as I should have refused to yield” I musthave died at once. I will tell you a tale of the courts, not very interestingperhaps, but nevertheless true. The only office of state which I ever held, Omen of Athens, was that of senator: the tribe Antiochis, which is my tribe, hadthe presidency at the trial of the generals who had not taken up the bodies ofthe slain after the battle of Arginusae; and you proposed to try them in abody, contrary to law, as you all thought afterwards; but at the time I was theonly one of the Prytanes who was opposed to the illegality, and I gave my voteagainst you; and when the orators threatened to impeach and arrest me, and youcalled and shouted, I made up my mind that I would run the risk, having law andjustice with me, rather than take part in your injustice because I fearedimprisonment and death. This happened in the days of the democracy. But whenthe oligarchy of the Thirty was in power, they sent for me and four others intothe rotunda, and bade us bring Leon the Salaminian from Salamis, as they wantedto put him to death. This was a specimen of the sort of commands which theywere always giving with the view of implicating as many as possible in theircrimes; and then I showed, not in word only but in deed, that, if I may beallowed to use such an expression, I cared not a straw for death, and that mygreat and only care was lest I should do an unrighteous or unholy thing. Forthe strong arm of that oppressive power did not frighten me into doing wrong;and when we came out of the rotunda the other four went to Salamis and fetchedLeon, but I went quietly home. For which I might have lost my life, had not thepower of the Thirty shortly afterwards come to an end. And many will witness tomy words.

Now do you really imagine that I could have survived all these years, if I hadled a public life, supposing that like a good man I had always maintained theright and had made justice, as I ought, the first thing? No indeed, men ofAthens, neither I nor any other man. But I have been always the same in all myactions, public as well as private, and never have I yielded any basecompliance to those who are slanderously termed my disciples, or to any other.Not that I have any regular disciples. But if any one likes to come and hear mewhile I am pursuing my mission, whether he be young or old, he is not excluded.Nor do I converse only with those who pay; but any one, whether he be rich orpoor, may ask and answer me and listen to my words; and whether he turns out tobe a bad man or a good one, neither result can be justly imputed to me; for Inever taught or professed to teach him anything. And if any one says that hehas ever learned or heard anything from me in private which all the world hasnot heard, let me tell you that he is lying.

But I shall be asked, Why do people delight in continually conversing with you?I have told you already, Athenians, the whole truth about this matter: theylike to hear the cross-examination of the pretenders to wisdom; there isamusement in it. Now this duty of cross-examining other men has been imposedupon me by God; and has been signified to me by oracles, visions, and in everyway in which the will of divine power was ever intimated to any one. This istrue, O Athenians, or, if not true, would be soon refuted. If I am or have beencorrupting the youth, those of them who are now grown up and have becomesensible that I gave them bad advice in the days of their youth should comeforward as accusers, and take their revenge; or if they do not like to comethemselves, some of their relatives, fathers, brothers, or other kinsmen,should say what evil their families have suffered at my hands. Now is theirtime. Many of them I see in the court. There is Crito, who is of the same ageand of the same deme with myself, and there is Critobulus his son, whom I alsosee. Then again there is Lysanias of Sphettus, who is the father ofAeschines—he is present; and also there is Antiphon of Cephisus, who isthe father of Epigenes; and there are the brothers of several who haveassociated with me. There is Nicostratus the son of Theosdotides, and thebrother of Theodotus (now Theodotus himself is dead, and therefore he, at anyrate, will not seek to stop him); and there is Paralus the son of Demodocus,who had a brother Theages; and Adeimantus the son of Ariston, whose brotherPlato is present; and Aeantodorus, who is the brother of Apollodorus, whom Ialso see. I might mention a great many others, some of whom Meletus should haveproduced as witnesses in the course of his speech; and let him still producethem, if he has forgotten—I will make way for him. And let him say, if hehas any testimony of the sort which he can produce. Nay, Athenians, the veryopposite is the truth. For all these are ready to witness on behalf of thecorrupter, of the injurer of their kindred, as Meletus and Anytus call me; notthe corrupted youth only—there might have been a motive forthat—but their uncorrupted elder relatives. Why should they too supportme with their testimony? Why, indeed, except for the sake of truth and justice,and because they know that I am speaking the truth, and that Meletus is a liar.

Well, Athenians, this and the like of this is all the defence which I have tooffer. Yet a word more. Perhaps there may be some one who is offended at me,when he calls to mind how he himself on a similar, or even a less seriousoccasion, prayed and entreated the judges with many tears, and how he producedhis children in court, which was a moving spectacle, together with a host ofrelations and friends; whereas I, who am probably in danger of my life, will donone of these things. The contrast may occur to his mind, and he may be setagainst me, and vote in anger because he is displeased at me on this account.Now if there be such a person among you,—mind, I do not say that thereis,—to him I may fairly reply: My friend, I am a man, and like other men,a creature of flesh and blood, and not “of wood or stone,” as Homersays; and I have a family, yes, and sons, O Athenians, three in number, onealmost a man, and two others who are still young; and yet I will not bring anyof them hither in order to petition you for an acquittal. And why not? Not fromany self-assertion or want of respect for you. Whether I am or am not afraid ofdeath is another question, of which I will not now speak. But, having regard topublic opinion, I feel that such conduct would be discreditable to myself, andto you, and to the whole state. One who has reached my years, and who has aname for wisdom, ought not to demean himself. Whether this opinion of me bedeserved or not, at any rate the world has decided that Socrates is in some waysuperior to other men. And if those among you who are said to be superior inwisdom and courage, and any other virtue, demean themselves in this way, howshameful is their conduct! I have seen men of reputation, when they have beencondemned, behaving in the strangest manner: they seemed to fancy that theywere going to suffer something dreadful if they died, and that they could beimmortal if you only allowed them to live; and I think that such are adishonour to the state, and that any stranger coming in would have said of themthat the most eminent men of Athens, to whom the Athenians themselves givehonour and command, are no better than women. And I say that these things oughtnot to be done by those of us who have a reputation; and if they are done, youought not to permit them; you ought rather to show that you are far moredisposed to condemn the man who gets up a doleful scene and makes the cityridiculous, than him who holds his peace.

But, setting aside the question of public opinion, there seems to be somethingwrong in asking a favour of a judge, and thus procuring an acquittal, insteadof informing and convincing him. For his duty is, not to make a present ofjustice, but to give judgment; and he has sworn that he will judge according tothe laws, and not according to his own good pleasure; and we ought not toencourage you, nor should you allow yourselves to be encouraged, in this habitof perjury—there can be no piety in that. Do not then require me to dowhat I consider dishonourable and impious and wrong, especially now, when I ambeing tried for impiety on the indictment of Meletus. For if, O men of Athens,by force of persuasion and entreaty I could overpower your oaths, then I shouldbe teaching you to believe that there are no gods, and in defending shouldsimply convict myself of the charge of not believing in them. But that is notso—far otherwise. For I do believe that there are gods, and in a sensehigher than that in which any of my accusers believe in them. And to you and toGod I commit my cause, to be determined by you as is best for you and me.

There are many reasons why I am not grieved, O men of Athens, at the vote ofcondemnation. I expected it, and am only surprised that the votes are so nearlyequal; for I had thought that the majority against me would have been farlarger; but now, had thirty votes gone over to the other side, I should havebeen acquitted. And I may say, I think, that I have escaped Meletus. I may saymore; for without the assistance of Anytus and Lycon, any one may see that hewould not have had a fifth part of the votes, as the law requires, in whichcase he would have incurred a fine of a thousand drachmae.

And so he proposes death as the penalty. And what shall I propose on my part, Omen of Athens? Clearly that which is my due. And what is my due? What returnshall be made to the man who has never had the wit to be idle during his wholelife; but has been careless of what the many care for—wealth, and familyinterests, and military offices, and speaking in the assembly, andmagistracies, and plots, and parties. Reflecting that I was really too honest aman to be a politician and live, I did not go where I could do no good to youor to myself; but where I could do the greatest good privately to every one ofyou, thither I went, and sought to persuade every man among you that he mustlook to himself, and seek virtue and wisdom before he looks to his privateinterests, and look to the state before he looks to the interests of the state;and that this should be the order which he observes in all his actions. Whatshall be done to such an one? Doubtless some good thing, O men of Athens, if hehas his reward; and the good should be of a kind suitable to him. What would bea reward suitable to a poor man who is your benefactor, and who desires leisurethat he may instruct you? There can be no reward so fitting as maintenance inthe Prytaneum, O men of Athens, a reward which he deserves far more than thecitizen who has won the prize at Olympia in the horse or chariot race, whetherthe chariots were drawn by two horses or by many. For I am in want, and he hasenough; and he only gives you the appearance of happiness, and I give you thereality. And if I am to estimate the penalty fairly, I should say thatmaintenance in the Prytaneum is the just return.

Perhaps you think that I am braving you in what I am saying now, as in what Isaid before about the tears and prayers. But this is not so. I speak ratherbecause I am convinced that I never intentionally wronged any one, although Icannot convince you—the time has been too short; if there were a law atAthens, as there is in other cities, that a capital cause should not be decidedin one day, then I believe that I should have convinced you. But I cannot in amoment refute great slanders; and, as I am convinced that I never wrongedanother, I will assuredly not wrong myself. I will not say of myself that Ideserve any evil, or propose any penalty. Why should I? because I am afraid ofthe penalty of death which Meletus proposes? When I do not know whether deathis a good or an evil, why should I propose a penalty which would certainly bean evil? Shall I say imprisonment? And why should I live in prison, and be theslave of the magistrates of the year—of the Eleven? Or shall the penaltybe a fine, and imprisonment until the fine is paid? There is the sameobjection. I should have to lie in prison, for money I have none, and cannotpay. And if I say exile (and this may possibly be the penalty which you willaffix), I must indeed be blinded by the love of life, if I am so irrational asto expect that when you, who are my own citizens, cannot endure my discoursesand words, and have found them so grievous and odious that you will have nomore of them, others are likely to endure me. No indeed, men of Athens, that isnot very likely. And what a life should I lead, at my age, wandering from cityto city, ever changing my place of exile, and always being driven out! For I amquite sure that wherever I go, there, as here, the young men will flock to me;and if I drive them away, their elders will drive me out at their request; andif I let them come, their fathers and friends will drive me out for theirsakes.

Some one will say: Yes, Socrates, but cannot you hold your tongue, and then youmay go into a foreign city, and no one will interfere with you? Now I havegreat difficulty in making you understand my answer to this. For if I tell youthat to do as you say would be a disobedience to the God, and therefore that Icannot hold my tongue, you will not believe that I am serious; and if I sayagain that daily to discourse about virtue, and of those other things aboutwhich you hear me examining myself and others, is the greatest good of man, andthat the unexamined life is not worth living, you are still less likely tobelieve me. Yet I say what is true, although a thing of which it is hard for meto persuade you. Also, I have never been accustomed to think that I deserve tosuffer any harm. Had I money I might have estimated the offence at what I wasable to pay, and not have been much the worse. But I have none, and therefore Imust ask you to proportion the fine to my means. Well, perhaps I could afford amina, and therefore I propose that penalty: Plato, Crito, Critobulus, andApollodorus, my friends here, bid me say thirty minæ, and they will be thesureties. Let thirty minæ be the penalty; for which sum they will be amplesecurity to you.

Not much time will be gained, O Athenians, in return for the evil name whichyou will get from the detractors of the city, who will say that you killedSocrates, a wise man; for they will call me wise, even although I am not wise,when they want to reproach you. If you had waited a little while, your desirewould have been fulfilled in the course of nature. For I am far advanced inyears, as you may perceive, and not far from death. I am speaking now not toall of you, but only to those who have condemned me to death. And I haveanother thing to say to them: you think that I was convicted because I had nowords of the sort which would have procured my acquittal—I mean, if I hadthought fit to leave nothing undone or unsaid. Not so; the deficiency which ledto my conviction was not of words—certainly not. But I had not theboldness or impudence or inclination to address you as you would have liked meto do, weeping and wailing and lamenting, and saying and doing many thingswhich you have been accustomed to hear from others, and which, as I maintain,are unworthy of me. I thought at the time that I ought not to do anythingcommon or mean when in danger: nor do I now repent of the style of my defence;I would rather die having spoken after my manner, than speak in your manner andlive. For neither in war nor yet at law ought I or any man to use every way ofescaping death. Often in battle there can be no doubt that if a man will throwaway his arms, and fall on his knees before his pursuers, he may escape death;and in other dangers there are other ways of escaping death, if a man iswilling to say and do anything. The difficulty, my friends, is not to avoiddeath, but to avoid unrighteousness; for that runs faster than death. I am oldand move slowly, and the slower runner has overtaken me, and my accusers arekeen and quick, and the faster runner, who is unrighteousness, has overtakenthem. And now I depart hence condemned by you to suffer the penalty ofdeath,—they too go their ways condemned by the truth to suffer thepenalty of villainy and wrong; and I must abide by my award—let themabide by theirs. I suppose that these things may be regarded asfated,—and I think that they are well.

And now, O men who have condemned me, I would fain prophesy to you; for I amabout to die, and in the hour of death men are gifted with prophetic power. AndI prophesy to you who are my murderers, that immediately after my departurepunishment far heavier than you have inflicted on me will surely await you. Meyou have killed because you wanted to escape the accuser, and not to give anaccount of your lives. But that will not be as you suppose: far otherwise. ForI say that there will be more accusers of you than there are now; accusers whomhitherto I have restrained: and as they are younger they will be moreinconsiderate with you, and you will be more offended at them. If you thinkthat by killing men you can prevent some one from censuring your evil lives,you are mistaken; that is not a way of escape which is either possible orhonourable; the easiest and the noblest way is not to be disabling others, butto be improving yourselves. This is the prophecy which I utter before mydeparture to the judges who have condemned me.

Friends, who would have acquitted me, I would like also to talk with you aboutthe thing which has come to pass, while the magistrates are busy, and before Igo to the place at which I must die. Stay then a little, for we may as welltalk with one another while there is time. You are my friends, and I shouldlike to show you the meaning of this event which has happened to me. O myjudges—for you I may truly call judges—I should like to tell you ofa wonderful circumstance. Hitherto the divine faculty of which the internaloracle is the source has constantly been in the habit of opposing me even abouttrifles, if I was going to make a slip or error in any matter; and now as yousee there has come upon me that which may be thought, and is generally believedto be, the last and worst evil. But the oracle made no sign of opposition,either when I was leaving my house in the morning, or when I was on my way tothe court, or while I was speaking, at anything which I was going to say; andyet I have often been stopped in the middle of a speech, but now in nothing Ieither said or did touching the matter in hand has the oracle opposed me. Whatdo I take to be the explanation of this silence? I will tell you. It is anintimation that what has happened to me is a good, and that those of us whothink that death is an evil are in error. For the customary sign would surelyhave opposed me had I been going to evil and not to good.

Let us reflect in another way, and we shall see that there is great reason tohope that death is a good; for one of two things—either death is a stateof nothingness and utter unconsciousness, or, as men say, there is a change andmigration of the soul from this world to another. Now if you suppose that thereis no consciousness, but a sleep like the sleep of him who is undisturbed evenby dreams, death will be an unspeakable gain. For if a person were to selectthe night in which his sleep was undisturbed even by dreams, and were tocompare with this the other days and nights of his life, and then were to tellus how many days and nights he had passed in the course of his life better andmore pleasantly than this one, I think that any man, I will not say a privateman, but even the great king will not find many such days or nights, whencompared with the others. Now if death be of such a nature, I say that to dieis gain; for eternity is then only a single night. But if death is the journeyto another place, and there, as men say, all the dead abide, what good, O myfriends and judges, can be greater than this? If indeed when the pilgrimarrives in the world below, he is delivered from the professors of justice inthis world, and finds the true judges who are said to give judgment there,Minos and Rhadamanthus and Aeacus and Triptolemus, and other sons of God whowere righteous in their own life, that pilgrimage will be worth making. Whatwould not a man give if he might converse with Orpheus and Musaeus and Hesiodand Homer? Nay, if this be true, let me die again and again. I myself, too,shall have a wonderful interest in there meeting and conversing with Palamedes,and Ajax the son of Telamon, and any other ancient hero who has suffered deaththrough an unjust judgment; and there will be no small pleasure, as I think, incomparing my own sufferings with theirs. Above all, I shall then be able tocontinue my search into true and false knowledge; as in this world, so also inthe next; and I shall find out who is wise, and who pretends to be wise, and isnot. What would not a man give, O judges, to be able to examine the leader ofthe great Trojan expedition; or Odysseus or Sisyphus, or numberless others, menand women too! What infinite delight would there be in conversing with them andasking them questions! In another world they do not put a man to death forasking questions: assuredly not. For besides being happier than we are, theywill be immortal, if what is said is true.

Wherefore, O judges, be of good cheer about death, and know of a certainty,that no evil can happen to a good man, either in life or after death. He andhis are not neglected by the gods; nor has my own approaching end happened bymere chance. But I see clearly that the time had arrived when it was better forme to die and be released from trouble; wherefore the oracle gave no sign. Forwhich reason, also, I am not angry with my condemners, or with my accusers;they have done me no harm, although they did not mean to do me any good; andfor this I may gently blame them.

Still I have a favour to ask of them. When my sons are grown up, I would askyou, O my friends, to punish them; and I would have you trouble them, as I havetroubled you, if they seem to care about riches, or anything, more than aboutvirtue; or if they pretend to be something when they are reallynothing,—then reprove them, as I have reproved you, for not caring aboutthat for which they ought to care, and thinking that they are something whenthey are really nothing. And if you do this, both I and my sons will havereceived justice at your hands.

The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our ways—I to die, and youto live. Which is better God only knows.

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