Socrates:
How you, O Athenians, have
been affected by my accusers, I cannot
tell; but I know that they almost made
me forget who I was, so persuasively did
they speak; and yet they have hardly
uttered a word of truth. But of the many
falsehoods told by them, there was one
which quite amazed me; I mean when they
said that you should be upon your guard
and not allow yourselves to be deceived
by the force of my eloquence. To say
this, when they were certain to be
detected as soon as I opened my lips and
proved myself to be anything but a great
speaker, did indeed appear to me most
shameless, unless by the force of
eloquence they mean the force of truth;
for if such is their meaning, I admit
that I am eloquent. But in how different
a way from theirs! Well, as I was
saying, they have scarcely spoken the
truth at all; but from me you shall hear
the whole truth: not, however, delivered
after their manner in a set oration duly
ornamented with words and phrases. No,
by heaven! but I shall use the words and
arguments which occur to me at the
moment; for I am confident in the
justice of my cause: at my time of life
I ought not to be appearing before you,
O men of Athens, in the character of a
juvenile orator, let no one expect it of
me. And I must beg of you to grant me a
favor:, If I defend myself in my
accustomed manner, and you hear me using
the words which I have been in the habit
of using in the agora, at the tables of
the money-changers, or anywhere else, I
would ask you not to be surprised, and
not to interrupt me on this account. For
I am more than seventy years of age, and
appearing now for the first time in a
court of law, I am quite a stranger to
the language of the place; and therefore
I would have you regard me as if I were
really a stranger, whom you would accuse
if he spoke in his native tongue, and
after the fashion of his country:, Am I
making an unfair request of you? Never
mind the manner, 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,
and then I will go on to the later ones.
For of old I have had many accusers, who
have accused me falsely to you during
many years; and I am more afraid of them
than 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, and
took possession of your minds with their
falsehoods, telling of one Socrates, a
wise man, who speculated about the
heaven above, and searched into the
earth beneath, and made the worse appear
the better cause. The disseminators of
this tale are the accusers whom I dread;
for their hearers are apt to fancy that
such inquirers 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 in the days when you were more
impressionable than you are now, in
childhood, or it may have been in youth
, and the cause when heard went by
default, for there was none to answer.
And hardest of all, I do not know and
cannot tell the names of my accusers;
unless in the chance case of a Comic
poet. 1
All who from envy and malice have
persuaded you, some of them having first
convinced themselves, all this class of
men are most difficult to deal with; for
I cannot have them up here, and
cross-examine them, and therefore I must
simply fight with shadows in my own
defense, and argue when there is no one
who answers. I will ask you then to
assume with me, as I was saying, that my
opponents are of two kinds; one recent,
the other ancient: and I hope that you
will see the propriety of my answering
the latter first, for these accusations
you heard long before the others, and
much oftener.
Well, then, I must make my
defense, and endeavor to clear away in a
short time, a slander which has lasted a
long time. May I succeed, if to succeed
be for my good and yours, or likely to
avail me in my cause The task is not an
easy one; I quite understand the nature
of it. And so leaving the event with
God, in obedience to the law I will now
make my defense.
I will begin at the beginning,
and ask what is the accusation which has
given rise to the slander of my person,
and in fact has encouraged Meletus to
prefer this charge against me, Well,
what do the slanderers say? They shall
be my prosecution and I will sum up
their words in an affidavit: 'Socrates
is an evil-doer, and a curious person,
who searches into things under the earth
and in heaven, and he makes the worse
appear the better cause; and he teaches
the aforesaid doctrines to others.' Such
is the nature of the accusation: it is
just what you have yourselves have seen
in the comedy of Aristophanes, who has
introduced a man whom he calls Socrates
going about and saying that he walks in
air and talking a deal of nonsense
concerning matters of which I do not
pretend to know either much or little,
not that I mean to speak disparagingly
of any one who is a student of natural
philosophy. I should be very sorry if
Meletus could bring so grave a charge
against me. But the simple truth is, O
Athenians, that I have nothing to do
with physical speculations: many of
those here present are witnesses to the
truth of this, and to them I appeal.
Speak then, you who have heard me, and
tell your neighbors whether any of you
have ever known me hold forth in few
words or in many upon such matters. . .
. You hear their answer. And from what
they say of this part of the charge you
will be able to judge of the truth of
the rest.
As little foundation is there for
the report that I am a teacher, and take
money; this accusation has no more truth
in it than the other. Although, if a man
were really able to instruct mankind, to
receive money for giving instruction
would, in my opinion, be an honor to
him. There is Gorgias of Leontium, and
Prodicus of Ceos, and Hippias of Elis,
who go the round of the cities, and are
able to persuade the young men to leave
their own citizens by whom 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 a Parian
philosopher residing in Athens, of whom
I have heard; and I came to hear of him
in this way:, I came across a man who
has spent a world of money on the
Sophists, Callias, the son of
Hipponicus, and knowing that he had
sons, I asked him: 'Callias,' I said,
'if your two sons were foals or calves
there would be no difficulty in finding
some one to put over them; we should
hire a trainer of horses, or a farmer
probably, who would improve and perfect
them in their own proper virtue and
excellence; but as they are human
beings, whom are you thinking of placing
over them? Is there any one who
understands 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
he charge?' 'Evenus the Parian,' he
replied; 'he is the man, and his charge
is five minae.' Happy is Evenus, I said
to myself, if he really has this wisdom,
and teaches at such a moderate charge.
Had I the same, I should have been very
proud and conceited; but the truth is
that I have no 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
against you; there must have been
something strange which you have been
doing? All these rumors and this talk
about you would never have arisen if you
had been like other men: tell us, then,
what is the cause of them, for we should
be sorry to judge hastily of you.' Now I
regard this as a fair challenge, and I
will endeavor to explain to you the
reason why I am called wise and have
such an evil fame. Please to attend
then. And although some of you may think
that I am joking, I declare that I will
tell you the entire truth. Men of
Athens, this reputation of mine has come
of a certain sort of wisdom which I
possess. If you ask me what kind of
wisdom, I reply, wisdom such as may
perhaps be attained by every 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 may fail 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, I must 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 who is worthy of
credit; that witness shall be the God of
Delphi, he will tell you about my
wisdom, if I have any, and of what sort
it is. You must have known Chaerephon;
he was early a friend of mine, and also
a friend of yours, for he shared 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 to Delphi 2 and boldly asked the oracle to
tell him whether, as I was saying, I
must beg you not to interrupt, he asked
the oracle to tell him whether any one
was wiser than I was, and the Pythian
prophetess answered, that there was no
man wiser. Chaerephon is dead himself;
but his brother, who is in court, will
confirm the truth of what I'm saying.
Why do I mention this? Because I
am going to explain to you why I have
such an evil 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.
After long consideration, I thought of a
method of trying the question. I
reflected that if I could only find a
man wiser than myself, then I might go
to the god with a refutation in my hand.
I should say to him,' Here is a man who
is wiser than I am; but you said that I
was the wisest.' Accordingly I went to
one who had the reputation of wisdom,
and observed him, his name I need not
mention; he was a politician whom first
among I selected for examination, and
the result was as follows: When I began
to talk with him, I could not help
thinking that he was not really wise,
although he was thought wise by many,
and still wiser by himself; and
thereupon I tried to explain to him that
he thought himself wise, but was not
really wise; and the consequence was
that he hated me, and his enmity was
shared by several who were present and
because I heard me. So I left him,
saying to myself, as I went away:
conceit of Man, although I do not
suppose that either of us knows anything
really beautiful and good, I am better
off than he is, for he knows nothing,
and thinks that he knows; I neither know
nor think that I know. In this latter
particular, then, I seem to have
slightly the advantage of him. Then I
went to another who had still higher
pretensions to wisdom, and my conclusion
was exactly the same. Whereupon I made
another enemy of him, and of many others
besides him.
Then I went to one man after
another, being not unconscious of the
enmity which I provoked, and I lamented
and feared this: but necessity was laid
upon me, the word of God, I thought,
ought to be considered first. And I said
to myself, I must go to all who appear
to know, and find out the meaning of the
oracle. And I swear to you, Athenians,
by the dog I swear!, for I must tell you
the truth, the result of my mission was
just this: I found that the men most in
repute were all but the most foolish;
and that others less esteemed were
really wiser and better. I will tell you
the whole of my wanderings and of the
'Herculean' labors, as I may call them,
which I endured only to find at last the
oracle irrefutable. After the
politicians, I went to the poets;
tragic, dithyrambic, and all sorts. And
there, I said to myself, you will be
instantly detected; now you will find
out that you are more ignorant than they
are. Accordingly, I took them some of
the most elaborate passages in their own
writings, and asked what was the meaning
of 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 a person
present who would not have talked better
about their poetry than they did
themselves. Then I knew that not by
wisdom do poets write poetry, but by a
sort of genius and inspiration; they are
like diviners or soothsayers who also
say many fine things, but do not
understand the meaning of them. The
poets appeared to me to be much in the
same case; and I further observed that
upon the strength of their poetry they
believed themselves to be the wisest of
men in other things in which they were
not wise. So I departed, conceiving
myself to be superior to them for the
same reason that I was superior to the
politicians.
At last I went to the artisans; I
was conscious that I knew nothing at
all, as I may say, and I was sure that
they knew many fine things; and here I
was not mistaken, for they did know many
things of which I was ignorant, and in
this they certainly were wiser than I
was. But I observed that even the good
artisans fell into the same error as the
poets;, because they were good workmen
they thought that they also knew all
sorts of high matters, and this defect
in them overshadowed their wisdom; and
therefore I asked myself on behalf of
the oracle, whether I would like to be
as I was, neither having their knowledge
nor their ignorance, or like them in
both; and I made answer to myself 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
most dangerous kind, and has given
occasion also to many calumnies. And I
am called wise, for my hearers always
imagine that I myself possess the wisdom
which I find wanting in others: but the
truth is, O men of Athens, that God only
is wise; and by his answer he intends to
show that the wisdom of men is worth
little or nothing; he is not speaking of
Socrates, he is only using my name by
way of illustration, as if he said, O
men, he is the wisest, who, like
Socrates, knows that his wisdom is in
truth worth nothing. And so I go about
the world, obedient to the god, and
search and make enquiry into the wisdom
of any one, whether citizen or stranger,
who appears to be wise; and if he is not
wise, then I show him that he is not
wise; and my occupation quite absorbs
me, and I have no time to give attention
to any public matter of interest or to
any concern of my own, but I am in utter
poverty by reason of my devotion to the
god.
There is another thing:—young men
of the richer classes, who have not much
to do, come about me of their own
accord; they like to hear the pretenders
examined, and they often imitate me, and
proceed to examine others; there are
plenty of persons, as they quickly
discover, who think that they know
something, but really know little or
nothing; and then those who are examined
by them, instead of being angry with
themselves are angry with me: this
confounded Socrates, they say; this
villainous misleader of youth!, and then
if somebody asks them, Why, what evil
does he practice or teach?, they do not
know, and can't tell; but in order that
they may not appear to be at a loss,
they repeat the ready-made charges which
are used against all philosophers about
teaching things up in the clouds and
under the earth, and making the worse
appear the better cause; for they do not
like to confess that their pretense of
knowledge has been detected, which is
the truth; and as they are numerous and
ambitious and energetic, and are drawn
up in battle array and have persuasive
tongues, they have filled your ears with
their loud and inveterate calumnies. And
this is the reason why my three
accusers, Meletus and Anytus and Lycon,
have set upon me; Meletus, who has a
quarrel with me on behalf of the poets;
Anytus, on behalf of the craftsmen and
politicians; Lycon, on behalf of the
rhetoricians: and as I said at the
beginning, I cannot expect to get rid of
such a mass of calumny all in a moment.
And this, O men of Athens, is the truth
and the whole truth; I have concealed
nothing, I have dissembled nothing. And
yet, I know that my plainness of speech
makes them hate me, and what is their
hatred but a proof that I am speaking
the truth?, Hence has arisen the
prejudice against me; and this is the
reason of it, as you will find out
either in this or in any future enquiry.
I have said enough in my defense
against the first class of my accusers;
I turn to the second class. They are
headed by Meletus, that good man and
true lover of his country, as he calls
himself. Against these, too, I must try
to make a defense:, 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
does not 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 that I am a doer of evil, and
corrupt the youth; but I say, O men of
Athens, that Meletus is a doer of evil,
in that he pretends to be in earnest
when he is only in jest, and is so eager
to bring men to trial from a pretended
zeal and interest about matters in which
he really never had the smallest
interest. And the truth of this I will
endeavor to prove to you.
Come hither, Meletus, and let me
ask a question of you. You think a great
deal about the improvement of youth?
Yes, I do.
Tell the judges, then, who is
their improver; for you must know, as
you have taken the pains to discover
their corrupter, and are citing and
accusing me before them. Speak, then,
and tell the judges who their improver
is., Observe, Meletus, that you are
silent, and have nothing to say. But is
not this rather disgraceful, and a very
considerable proof of what I was saying,
that you have no interest in the matteR?
Speak up, friend, and tell us who 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
improve youth?
Certainly they are.
What, all of them, or some only
and not others?
All of them.
By the goddess Hera, 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 too
improve them?
They improve them.
Then every Athenian improves and
elevates them; all with the exception of
myself; 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:
How about horses? Does one man do them
harm and all the world good? Is not the
exact opposite fact does the truth? One
man is able to do them good, the trainer
of horses, that is to say, does them
good, and others who have to do with
them rather injure them? Is not that
true, Meletus, of horses, or of any
other animals? Most assuredly it is;
whether you and Anytus say yes or no.
Happy indeed would be the condition of
youth if they had one corrupter 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 you bring
against me.
And now, Meletus, I will ask you
another question, by Zeus I will: Which
is better, to live among bad citizens,
or among good ones? Answer, friend, I
say; the question is one which may be
easily answered. Do not the good do
their neighbors good, and the bad do
them evil?
Certainly.
And is there any one who would
rather be injured than benefited by
those who live with him? Answer, my good
friend, the law requires you to answer,
does any one like to be injured?
Certainly not.
And when you accuse me of
corrupting and deteriorating the youth,
do you allege that I corrupt them
intentionally or unintentionally?
Intentionally, I say.
But you have just admitted that
the good do their neighbors good, and
the evil do them evil. Now, is that a
truth which your superior wisdom has
recognized thus early in life, and am I,
at my age, in such darkness and
ignorance as not to know that if a man
with whom I have to live is corrupted by
me, I am very likely 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
ever likely to be convinced by you. But
either I do not corrupt them, or I
corrupt them unintentionally; and on
either view of the case you lie. If my
offense is unintentional, the law has no
cognizance of unintentional offenses:
you ought to have taken me privately,
and warned and admonished me; for if I
had been better advised, I should have
left off doing what I only did
unintentionally, no doubt I should; but
you would have nothing to say to me and
refused to teach me. And now you bring
me up in this court, which is a place
not of instruction, but of punishment.
It will be very clear to you,
Athenians, as I was saying, that Meletus
has no care 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 I infer from your
indictment, that I teach them not to
acknowledge the gods which the state
acknowledges, but some other new
divinities or spiritual agencies in
their 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 arc speaking, tell me and the
court, in somewhat plainer terms, what
you mean, for I do not as yet understand
whether you affirm that I teach other
men to acknowledge some gods, and
therefore that I do believe in gods, and
am not an entire atheist, this you do
not lay to my charge,, but only you say
that they are not the same gods which
the city recognizes-, the charge is that
they are different gods. Or, do you mean
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 that I 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,
and the moon earth.
Friend Meletus, you think that you
are accusing Anaxagoras: and you have
but a bad opinion of the judges, if you
fancy them illiterate to such a degree
as not to know that these doctrines are
found in the books of Anaxagoras the
Clazomenian, which are full of them. And
so, forsooth, the youth are said to be
taught them by Socrates, when there arc
not infrequently exhibitions of them at
the theatre (price of admission one
drachma at the most); and they might pay
their money, and laugh at Socrates if he
pretends to father these extraordinary
views. 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
believe yourself. I cannot help
thinking, men of Athens, that Meletus is
reckless and impudent, and that he has
written this indictment in a spirit of
mere wantonness and youthful bravado.
Has he not compounded a riddle, thinking
to try me? He said to himself:, I shall
see whether the wise Socrates will
discover my facetious contradiction, or
whether I shall be able to deceive him
and the rest of them. For he certainly
does appear to me to contradict himself
in the indictment as much as if he said
that Socrates is guilty of not believing
in the gods, and yet of believing in
them, but this is not like a person who
is in earnest.
I should like you, O men of
Athens, to join me in examining what I
conceive to be his inconsistency; and do
you, Meletus, answer. And I must remind
the audience of my request that they
would not make a disturbance if I speak
in my accustomed manner:
Did ever man, Meletus, believe in
the existence of human things, and not
of human beings? . . . I wish, men of
Athens, that he would answer, and not be
always trying to get up an interruption.
Did ever any man believe in
horsemanship, and not in horses? or in
flute-playing, and not in fluteplayers?
No, my friend; I will 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 a man 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 or spiritual agencies (new or
old, no matter for that); at any rate, I
believe in spiritual agencies,, so you
say and swear in the affidavit; and yet
if I believe in divine beings, how can I
help believing in spirits or demigods;,
must I not? To be sure I must; and
therefore I may assume that your silence
gives consent. Now what are spirits or
demigods? are they not either gods or
the sons of gods?
Certainly they are.
But this is what I call the
facetious riddle invented by you: the
demigods or spirits are gods, and you
say first that I do not believe in gods,
and then again that I do believe in
gods; that is, if I believe in demigods.
For if the demigods are the illegitimate
sons of gods, whether by the nymphs or
by any other mothers, of whom they are
said to be the sons, what human being
will ever believe that there are no gods
if they are the sons of gods ? You might
as well affirm the existence of mules,
and deny that of horses and asses. Such
nonsense, 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 to
accuse me. But no one who has a particle
of understanding will ever be convinced
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
defense is unnecessary; but I know only
too well how many are the enmities which
I have incurred, and this is what will
be my destruction if I am destroyed;,
not Meletus nor yet Anytus, but the envy
and detraction of the world, which has
been 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
which is likely to bring you to an
untimely end? To him I may fairly
answer: There you are mistaken: a man
who is good for anything ought not to
calculate the chance of living or dying;
he ought only to consider whether in
doing anything he 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
3 above all,
who altogether despised danger in
comparison with disgrace; and when he
was so eager to slay Hector, his goddess
mother said to him, that if he avenged
his companion Patroclus, and slew
Hector, he would die 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 rather to live in dishonor,
and not to avenge his friend. 'Let me
die forthwith,' he replies, 'and be
avenged of my enemy, rather than abide
here by the beaked ships, a
laughing-stock and a burden of the
earth.' Had Achilles any thought of
death and danger? For wherever a man's
place is, whether the place which he has
chosen or that in which he has 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 of Athens, is
a true saying.
Strange, indeed, would be my
conduct, O men of Athens, if I who, when
I was ordered by the generals whom you
chose to command me at Potidaea and
Amphipolis and Delium, remained where
they placed me, like any other man,
facing death, if now, when, as I
conceive and imagine, God orders me to
fulfill the philosopher's mission of
searching into myself and other men, I
were to desert my post through fear of
death, or any other fear; that would
indeed be strange, and I might justly be
arraigned in court for denying the
existence of the gods, if I disobeyed
the oracle because I was afraid of
death, fancying that I was wise when I
was not wise. For the fear of death is
indeed the pretense of wisdom, and not
real wisdom, being a pretense of knowing
the unknown; and no one knows whether
death, which men in their fear apprehend
to be the greatest evil, may not be the
greatest good. Is not this ignorance of
a disgraceful sort, the ignorance which
is the conceit that a man knows what he
does not know? And in this respect only
I believe myself to differ from men in
general, and may perhaps claim to be
wiser than they are:—that whereas I know
but little of the world below, I do not
suppose that I know: but I do know that
injustice and disobedience to a better,
whether God or man, is evil and
dishonorable, and I will never fear or
avoid a possible good rather than a
certain evil. And therefore if you let
me go now, all you who are not convinced
by Anytus, who said that since I had
been prosecuted I must be put to death;
(or if not that I ought never to have
been prosecuted at all; and that if I
escape now, your sons will all be
utterly ruined by listening to my words,
if you say to me, Socrates, this time we
will not mind Anytus, and you shall be
let off, but upon one condition, that
you are not to enquire and speculate
this way any more, and that if you are
caught doing so again you shall die;, if
this was the condition on which you let
me go, I should reply: Men of Athens, I
honor and love you; but I shall obey God
rather than you, and while I have life
and strength I shall never cease from
the practice and teaching of philosophy,
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 of Athens,, are you not
ashamed of heaping up the greatest
amount of money and honor and
reputation, and caring so little about
wisdom and truth and the greatest
improvement of the soul, which you never
regard or heed at all? And if the person
with whom I am arguing, says: Yes, but I
do care; then I do not leave him or let
him go at once; but I proceed to
interrogate and examine and
cross-examine him, and if I think that
he has no virtue in him, but only says
that he has, I reproach him with
undervaluing the greater, and
overvaluing the less. And I shall repeat
the same words to every one whom I meet,
young and old, citizen and alien, but
especially to the citizens, inasmuch as
they are my brethren. For know that this
is the command necessity of God; and I
believe that no greater good has ever
happened in the state than my service to
the God. For I do nothing but go about
persuading you all, old and young alike,
not to take thought for your persons or
your properties, but first and chiefly
to care about the greatest improvement
of the soul. I tell you that virtue is
not given by money, but that from virtue
comes money and every other good of man,
public as well as private. This is my
teaching, and if this is the doctrine
which corrupts the youth, I am a
mischievous person. But if any one says
that this is not my teaching, he is
speaking an untruth. Wherefore, O men of
Athens, I say to 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 if I have to die many
times.
Men of Athens, do not interrupt,
but hear me; there was an understanding
between us that you should hear me to
the end: I have something more to say,
at which you may be inclined to cry out;
but I believe that to hear me will be
good for you, and therefore I beg that
you will not cry out. I would have you
know, that if you kill such an one as I
am, you will injure yourselves more than
you will injure me. Nothing will injure
me, not Meletus nor yet Anytus, they
cannot, for a bad man is not permitted
to injure a better than himself. I do
not deny that Anytus may, perhaps,
injure me; and he may imagine, and
others may imagine, that he is
inflicting a great injury: but there I
do not agree. For the evil of doing as
he is doing, the evil of unjustly taking
away 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 that you may not sin
against the God by condemning me, who am
his 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,
given to the state by God; and the state
is a great and noble steed who is tardy
in his motions owing to his very size,
and requires to be stirred into life. I
am that gadfly which God has attached to
the state, and all day long and in all
places am always fastening upon you,
arousing and persuading and reproaching
you. You will not easily find another
like me, and therefore I would advise
you to spare me. I dare say that you may
feel out of temper (like a person who is
suddenly awakened from sleep), and you
think that you might easily strike me
dead as Anytus advises, and then you
would sleep on for the remainder of your
lives, unless God in his care of you
sent you another gadfly. When I say that
I am given to you by God, the proof of
my mission is this:, if I had been like
other men, I should not have neglected
all my own concerns or patiently seen
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 to regard
virtue; such conduct, I say, would be
unlike human nature. If I had gained
anything, or if my exhortations had been
paid, there would have been some sense
in my doing so; but now, as you will
perceive, not even the impudence of my
accusers dares to say that I have ever
exacted or sought pay of any one; of
that they have no witness. And I have a
sufficient witness to the truth of what
I say, my poverty.
Some one may wonder why I go about
in private giving advice and busying
myself with the concerns of others, but
do not venture to come forward in public
and advise the state. I will tell you
why. You have heard me speak at sundry
times and in diverse places of an oracle
or sign which comes to me, and is the
divinity which Meletus ridicules in the
indictment. This sign, which is a kind
of voice, first began to come to me when
I was a child; it always forbids but
never commands me to do anything which I
am going to do. This is what deters me
from being a politician. And rightly, as
I think. For I am certain, O men of
Athens, that if I had engaged in
politics, I should have perished long
ago, and done no good either to you or
to myself. And do not be offended at my
telling you the truth: for the truth is,
that no man who goes to war with you or
any other multitude, honestly striving
against the many lawless and unrighteous
deeds which are done in a state, will
save his life; he who will fight for the
right, if he would live even for a brief
space, must have a private station and
not a public one.
I can give you convincing evidence
of what I say, not words only, but what
you value far more, actions. Let me
relate to you a passage of my own life
which will prove to you that I should
never have yielded to injustice from any
fear of death, and that 'as I should
have refused to yield' I must have died
at once. I will tell you a tale of the
courts, not very interesting perhaps,
but nevertheless true. The only office
of state which I ever held, O men of
Athens, was that of senator: the tribe
Antiochis, which is my tribe, had the
presidency at the trial of the generals
who had not taken up the bodies of the
slain after the battle of Arginusae; and
you proposed to try them in a body,
contrary to law, as you all thought
afterwards; but at the time I was the
only one of the Prytanes who was opposed
to the illegality, and I gave my vote
against you; and when the orators
threatened to impeach and arrest me, and
you called and shouted, I made up my
mind that I would run the risk, having
law and justice with me, rather than
take part in your injustice because I
feared imprisonment and death. This
happened in the days of the democracy.
But when the oligarchy of the Thirty was
in power, they sent for me and four
others into the rotunda, and bade us
bring Leon the Salaminian from Salamis,
as they wanted to put him to death. This
was a specimen of the sort of commands
which they were always giving with the
view of implicating as many as possible
in their crimes; and then I showed, not
in word only but in deed, that, if I may
be allowed to use such an expression, I
cared not a straw for death, and that my
great and only care was lest I should do
an unrighteous or unholy thing. For the
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 fetched
Leon, but I went quietly home. For which
I might have lost my life, had not the
power of the Thirty shortly afterwards
come to an end. And many will witness to
my words.
Now do you really imagine that I
could have survived all these years, if
I had led a public life, supposing that
like a good man I had always maintained
the right and had made justice, as I
ought, the first thing? No indeed, men
of Athens, neither I nor any other man.
But I have been always the same in all
my actions, public as well as private,
and never have I yielded any base
compliance 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 me
while 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 or
poor, may ask and answer me and listen
to my words; and whether he turns out to
be a bad man or a good one, neither
result can be justly imputed to me; for
I never taught or professed to teach him
anything. And if any one says that he
has ever learned or heard anything from
me in private which all the world has
not 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: they like to hear the
cross-examination of the pretenders to
wisdom; there is amusement in it. Now
this duty of cross-examining other men
has been imposed upon me by God; and has
been signified to me by oracles,
visions, and in every way in which the
will of divine power was ever intimated
to any one. This is true, O Athenians;
or, if not true, would be refuted. If I
am or have been corrupting the youth,
those of them who are now grown up and
have become sensible that I gave them
bad advice in the days of their youth
should come forward as accusers, and
take their revenge; or if they do not
like to come themselves, some of their
relatives, fathers, brothers, or other
kinsmen, should say what evil their
families have suffered at my hands. Now
is their time. Many of them I see in the
court. There is Crito, who is of the
same age and of the same deme with
myself, and there is Critobulus his son,
whom I also see. Then again there is
Lysanias of Sphettus, who is the father
of Aeschines, he is present; and also
there is Antiphon of Cephisus, who is
the father of Epigenes; and there are
the brothers of several who have
associated with me. There is Nicostratus
the son of Theosdotides, and the brother
of Theodotus (now Theodotus himself is
dead, and therefore he, at any rate,
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 brother Plato
4 is present;
and Aeantodorus, who is the brother of
Apollodorus, whom I also see. I might
mention a great many others, some of
whom Meletus should have produced as
witnesses in the course of his speech;
and let him still produce them, if he
has forgotten, I will make way for him.
And let him say, if he has any testimony
of the sort which he can produce. Nay,
Athenians, the very opposite is the
truth. For all these are ready to
witness on behalf of the corrupter, of
the injurer of their kindred, as Meletus
and Anytus call me; not the corrupted
youth only, there might have been a
motive for that, but their uncorrupted
elder relatives. Why should they too
support me 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 defense which I have
to offer. Yet one 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 serious
occasion, prayed and entreated the
judges with many tears, and how he
produced his children in court, which
was a moving spectacle, together with a
host of relations and friends; whereas
I, who am probably in danger of my life,
will do none of these things. The
contrast may occur to his mind, and he
may be set against 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 there
is, 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 Homer says; and I
have a family, yes, and sons, O
Athenians, three in number, one almost a
man, and two others who are still young;
and yet I will not bring any of them
hither in order to petition you for an
acquittal. And why not? Not from any
self-assertion or want of respect for
you. Whether I am or am not afraid of
death is another question, of which I
will not now speak. But, having regard
to public opinion, I feel that such
conduct would be discreditable to
myself, and to you, and to the whole
state. One who has reached my years, and
who has a name for wisdom, ought not to
demean himself. Whether this opinion of
me be deserved or not, at any rate the
world has decided that Socrates is in
some way superior to other men. And if
those among you who are said to be
superior in wisdom and courage, and any
other virtue, demean themselves in this
way, how shameful is their conduct! I
have seen men of reputation, when they
have been condemned, behaving in the
strangest manner: they seemed to fancy
that they were going to suffer something
dreadful if they died, and that they
would be immortal if you only allowed
them to live; and I think that such are
a dishonor to the state, and that any
stranger coming in would have said of
them that the most eminent men of
Athens, to whom the Athenians themselves
give honor and command, are no better
than women. And I say that these things
ought not to be done by those of us who
have a reputation; and if they are done,
you ought not to permit them; you ought
rather to show that you are far more
disposed to condemn the man who gets up
a doleful scene and makes the city
ridiculous, than him who holds his
peace.
But, setting aside the question of
public opinion, there seems to be
something wrong in asking a favor of a
judge, and thus procuring an acquittal,
instead of informing and convincing him.
For his duty is, not to make a present
of justice, but to give judgment; and he
has sworn that he will judge according
to the laws, and not according to his
own good and pleasure; and we ought not
to encourage you, nor should you allow
yourselves to be encouraged, in this
habit of perjury, there can be no piety
in that. Do not then require me to do
what I consider dishonorable and impious
and wrong, especially now, when I am
being 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 should be teaching you to believe
that there are no gods, and in defending
should simply convict myself of the
charge of not believing in them. But
that is not so, far otherwise. For I do
believe that there are gods, and in a
sense higher than that in which any of
my accusers believe in them. And to you
and to God I commit my cause, to be
determined by you as is best for you and
me.
Socrates is convicted of
the charges by only the slimmest
of margins and gives a second
speech. In Athenian
jurisprudential practice, the
accusers asked for a certain
penalty if the accused is
convicted, and the accused
argues for a different, usually
more lenient penalty. For
instance, if the accusers ask
for the death penalty, it was
customary for the accused to ask
for banishment. The lesser
punishment tended to be chosen
in just about every case.
Socrates' second speech is an
argument for a different penalty
rather than death, but Socrates
argues that he is doing a great
service to the state of Athens,
so that the appropriate penalty
would be to pay him a stipend
for the rest of his life to
support him in his criticism of
individual citizens of Athens.
This goes over like a lead
balloon, and the senate
sentences him to death. In his
final speech, Socrates tells the
Athenians that they will be
shamed in the future for their
action and explains why he
doesn't fear death:
|
Let us reflect in another way, and we
shall see that there is great reason to
hope that death is a good; for one of
two things, either death is a state of
nothingness and utter unconsciousness,
or, as men say, there is a change and
migration of the soul from this world to
another. Now if you suppose that there
is no consciousness, but a sleep like
the sleep of him who is undisturbed even
by dreams, death will be an unspeakable
gain. For if a person were to select the
night in which his sleep was undisturbed
even by dreams, and were to compare with
this the other days and nights of his
life, and then were to tell us how many
days and nights he had passed in the
course of his life better and more
pleasantly than this one, I think that
any man, I will not say a private man,
but the greatest king will not find many
such days or nights, when compared to
the others. Now if death be of such a
nature, I say that to die is gain; for
eternity is then only a single night.
But if death is the journey to another
place, and there, as men say, all the
dead abide, what good, O my friends and
judges, can be greater than this? If
indeed when the pilgrim arrives in the
world below, he is delivered from the
professors of justice in this world, and
finds the true judges who are said to
give judgement there . . . that
pilgrimage will be worth taking. What
would not a man give if he might
converse with Orpheus and Musaeus
5 and Hesiod
6 and Homer?
Nay, if this be true, let me die again
and again! . . . Above all, I shall then
be able to continue my search into true
and false knowledge; as in this world,
so also in the next; and I shall find
out who is wise, and who pretends to be
wise, and is not. . . . In another world
they do not put a man to death for
asking questions: assuredly not. For
besides being happier than we are, they
will also 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 and his are not neglected by the
gods; nor has my own approaching end
happened by mere chance. But I see
clearly that the time had arrived when
it was better for me to die and be
released from trouble. . . .
The hour of departure has arrived,
and we go our separate ways, I to die,
and you to live. Which of these two is
better only God knows.
Translated by Benjamin Jowett in
The Dialogues of Plato, Volume 2,
translated by Benjamin Jowett, 3rd
Edition (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 1892), pages 109-135.