APOLOGY

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 (Or, I am certain

that I am right in taking this course.): 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 favour:—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 excuse 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 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 in the days when you were more

impressible 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. 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 defence, 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 defence, and endeavour 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 defence.

I will begin at the beginning, and ask what is the accusation which has

given rise to the slander of me, and in fact has encouraged Meletus to

proof this charge against me. Well, what do the slanderers say? They

shall be my prosecutors, 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

seen in the comedy of Aristophanes (Aristoph., Clouds.), 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. Very 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 neighbours 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 honour 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 minæ.” 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 rumours 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 endeavour 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 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 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 anyone 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 am 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 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 heard me. So I left him, saying to myself, as I

went away: Well, 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, Go I must 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 tale of my wanderings and of the

“Herculean” labours, 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, He, O men, 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 in vindication of the oracle I show him that he is not wise;

and my occupation quite absorbs me, and I have no time to give either

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 practise or teach? they do not know, and cannot 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 having no

gods, and making the worse appear the better cause; for they do not

like to confess that their pretence 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 defence 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 defence:—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 endeavour 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 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 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 the truth? One man is able to do them

good, or at least not many;—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 neighbours good, and the bad do them evil?

Certainly.

And is there anyone 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 neighbours 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 offence is unintentional, the

law has no cognizance of unintentional offences: 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 are 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?