I know not, O Athenians! how far you have been influenced by my accusers
for my part, in listening to them I almost forgot myself, so plausible
were their arguments however, so to speak, they have said nothing true.
But of the many falsehoods which they uttered I wondered at one of them
especially, that in which they said that you ought to be on your guard
lest you should be deceived by me, as being eloquent in speech. For that
they are not ashamed of being forthwith convicted by me in fact, when I
shall show that I am not by any means eloquent, this seemed to me the
most shameless thing in them, unless indeed they call him eloquent who
speaks the truth. For, if they mean this, then I would allow that I am
an orator, but not after their fashion for they, as I affirm, have said
nothing true, but from me you shall hear the whole truth. Not indeed,
Athenians, arguments highly wrought, as theirs were, with choice phrases
and expressions, nor adorned, but you shall hear a speech uttered
without premeditation in such words as first present themselves. For I
am confident that what I say will be just, and let none of you expect
otherwise, for surely it would not become my time of life to come before
you like a youth with a got up speech. Above all things, therefore, I
beg and implore this of you, O Athenians! if you hear me defending
myself in the same language as that in which I am accustomed to speak
both in the forum at the counters, where many of you have heard me, and
elsewhere, not to be surprised or disturbed on this account. For the
case is this: I now for the first time come before a court of justice,
though more than seventy years old; I am therefore utterly a stranger to
the language here. As, then, if I were really a stranger, you would have
pardoned me if I spoke in the language and the manner in which I had
been educated, so now I ask this of you as an act of justice, as it
appears to me, to disregard the manner of my speech, for perhaps it may
be somewhat worse, and perhaps better, and to consider this only, and to
give your attention to this, whether I speak what is just or not; for
this is the virtue of a judge, but of an orator to speak the truth.
2. First, then, O Athenians! I am right in defending myself against the
first false accusations alleged against me, and my first accusers, and
then against the latest accusations, and the latest accusers. For many
have been accusers of me to you, and for many years, who have asserted
nothing true, of whom I am more afraid than of Anytus and his party,
although they too are formidable; but those are still more formidable,
Athenians, who, laying hold of many of you from childhood, have
persuaded you, and accused me of what is not true: "that there is one
Socrates, a wise man, who occupies himself about celestial matters, and
has explored every thing under the earth, and makes the worse appear the
better reason." Those, O Athenians! who have spread abroad this report
are my formidable accusers; for they who hear them think that such as
search into these things do not believe that there are gods. In the next
place, these accusers are numerous, and have accused me now for a long
time; moreover, they said these things to you at that time of life in
which you were most credulous, when you were boys and some of you
youths, and they accused me altogether in my absence, when there was no
one to defend me. But the most unreasonable thing of all is, that it is
not possible to learn and mention their names, except that one of them
happens to be a comic poet.[1] Such, however, as, influenced by envy and
calumny, have persuaded you, and those who, being themselves persuaded,
have persuaded others, all these are most difficult to deal with; for it
is not possible to bring any of them forward here, nor to confute any;
but it is altogether necessary to fight, as it were with a shadow, in
making my defense, and to convict when there is no one to answer.
Consider, therefore, as I have said, that my accusers are twofold, some
who have lately accused me, and others long since, whom I have made
mention of; and believe that I ought to defend myself against these
first; for you heard them accusing me first, and much more than these
last.
Well. I must make my defense, then, O Athenians! and endeavor in this so
short a space of time to remove from your minds the calumny which you
have long entertained. I wish, indeed, it might be so, if it were at all
better both for you and me, and that in making my defense I could effect
something more advantageous still: I think, however, that it will be
difficult, and I am not entirely ignorant what the difficulty is.
Nevertheless, let this turn out as may be pleasing to God, I must obey
the law and make my defense.
3. Let us, then, repeat from the beginning what the accusation is from
which the calumny against me has arisen, and relying on which Melitus
has preferred this indictment against me. Well. What, then, do they who
charge me say in their charge? For it is necessary to read their
deposition as of public accusers. "Socrates acts wickedly, and is
criminally curious in searching into things under the earth, and in the
heavens, and in making the worse appear the better cause, and in
teaching these same things to others." Such is the accusation: for such
things you have yourselves seen in the comedy of Aristophanes, one
Socrates there carried about, saying that he walks in the air, and
acting many other buffooneries, of which I understand nothing whatever.
Nor do I say this as disparaging such a science, if there be any one
skilled in such things, only let me not be prosecuted by Melitus on a
charge of this kind; but I say it, O Athenians! because I have nothing
to do with such matters. And I call upon most of you as witnesses of
this, and require you to inform and tell each other, as many of you as
have ever heard me conversing; and there are many such among you.
Therefore tell each other, if any one of you has ever heard me
conversing little or much on such subjects. And from this you will know
that other things also, which the multitude assert of me, are of a
similar nature.
4. However not one of these things is true; nor, if you have heard from
any one that I attempt to teach men, and require payment, is this true.
Though this, indeed, appears to me to be an honorable thing, if one
should be able to instruct men, like Gorgias the Leontine, Prodicus the
Cean, and Hippias the Elean. For each of these, O Athenians! is able, by
going through the several cities, to persuade the young men, who can
attach themselves gratuitously to such of their own fellow-citizens as
they please, to abandon their fellow-citizens and associate with them,
giving them money and thanks besides. There is also another wise man
here, a Parian, who, I hear, is staying in the city. For I happened to
visit a person who spends more money on the sophists than all others
together: I mean Callias, son of Hipponicus. I therefore asked him, for
he has two sons, "Callias," I said, "if your two sons were colts or
calves, we should have had to choose a master for them, and hire a
person who would make them excel in such qualities as belong to their
nature; and he would have been a groom or an agricultural laborer. But
now, since your sons are men, what master do you intend to choose for
them? Who is there skilled in the qualities that become a man and a
citizen? For I suppose you must have considered this, since you have
sons. Is there any one," I said, "or not?" "Certainly," he answered.
"Who is he?" said I, "and whence does he come? and on what terms does he
teach?" He replied, "Evenus the Parian, Socrates, for five minae." And I
deemed Evenus happy, if he really possesses this art, and teaches
admirably. And I too should think highly of myself, and be very proud,
if I possessed this knowledge, but I possess it not, O Athenians.
5. Perhaps, one of you may now object: "But, Socrates, what have you
done, then? Whence have these calumnies against you arisen? For surely
if you had not busied yourself more than others, such a report and story
would never have got abroad, unless you had done something different
from what most men do. Tell us, therefore, what it is, that we may not
pass a hasty judgment on you." He who speaks thus appears to me to speak
justly, and I will endeavor to show you what it is that has occasioned
me this character and imputation. Listen, then: to some of you perhaps I
shall appear to jest, yet be assured that I shall tell you the whole
truth. For I, O Athenians! have acquired this character through nothing
else than a certain wisdom. Of what kind, then, is this wisdom? Perhaps
it is merely human wisdom. For in this, in truth, I appear to be wise.
They probably, whom I have just now mentioned, possessed a wisdom more
than human, otherwise I know not what to say about it; for I am not
acquainted with it, and whosoever says I am, speaks falsely, and for the
purpose of calumniating me. But, O Athenians! do not cry out against me,
even though I should seem to you to speak somewhat arrogantly. For the
account which I am going to give you is not my own; but I shall refer to
an authority whom you will deem worthy of credit. For I shall adduce to
you the god at Delphi as a witness of my wisdom, if I have any, and of
what it is. You doubtless know Chærepho: he was my associate from youth,
and the associate of most of you; he accompanied you in your late exile,
and returned with you. You know, then, what kind of a man Chærepho was,
how earnest in whatever he undertook. Having once gone to Delphi, he
ventured to make the following inquiry of the oracle (and, as I said, O
Athenians! do not cry out), for he asked if there was any one wiser than
I. The Pythian thereupon answered that there was not one wiser; and of
this, his brother here will give you proofs, since he himself is dead.
6. Consider, then, why I mention these things: it is because I am going
to show you whence the calumny against me arose. For when I heard this,
I reasoned thus with myself, What does the god mean? What enigma is
this? For I am not conscious to myself that I am wise, either much or
little. What, then, does he mean by saying that I am the wisest? For
assuredly he does not speak falsely: that he could not do. And for a
long time I was in doubt what he meant; afterward, with considerable
difficulty, I had recourse to the following method of searching out his
meaning. I went to one of those who have the character of being wise,
thinking that there, if anywhere, I should confute the oracle, and show
in answer to the response that This man is wiser than I, though you
affirmed that I was the wisest. Having, then, examined this man (for
there is no occasion to mention his name; he was, however, one of our
great politicians, in examining whom I felt as I proceed to describe, O
Athenians!), having fallen into conversation with him, this man appeared
to be wise in the opinion of most other men, and especially in his own
opinion, though in fact he was not so. I thereupon endeavored to show
him that he fancied himself to be wise, but really was not. Hence I
became odious, both to him and to many others who were present. When I
left him, I reasoned thus with myself: I am wiser than this man, for
neither of us appears to know anything great and good; but he fancies he
knows something, although he knows nothing; whereas I, as I do not know
anything, so I do not fancy I do. In this trifling particular, then, I
appear to be wiser than he, because I do not fancy I know what I do not
know. After that I went to another who was thought to be wiser than the
former, and formed the very same opinion. Hence I became odious to him
and to many others.
7. After this I went to others in turn, perceiving indeed, and grieving
and alarmed, that I was making myself odious; however, it appeared
necessary to regard the oracle of the god as of the greatest moment, and
that, in order to discover its meaning, I must go to all who had the
reputation of possessing any knowledge. And by the dog, O Athenians! for
I must tell you the truth, I came to some such conclusion as this: those
who bore the highest reputation appeared to me to be most deficient, in
my researches in obedience to the god, and others who were considered
inferior more nearly approaching to the possession of understanding. But
I must relate to you my wandering, and the labors which I underwent, in
order that the oracle might prove incontrovertible. For after the
politicians I went to the poets, as well the tragic as the dithyrambic
and others, expecting that here I should in very fact find myself more
ignorant than they. Taking up, therefore, some of their poems, which
appeared to me most elaborately finished, I questioned them as to their
meaning, that at the same time I might learn something from them. I am
ashamed, O Athenians! to tell you the truth; however, it must be told.
For, in a word, almost all who were present could have given a better
account of them than those by whom they had been composed. I soon
discovered this, therefore, with regard to the poets, that they do not
effect their object by wisdom, but by a certain natural inspiration, and
under the influence of enthusiasm, like prophets and seers; for these
also say many fine things, but they understand nothing that they say.
The poets appeared to me to be affected in a similar manner; and at the
same time I perceived that they considered themselves, on account of
their poetry, to be the wisest of men in other things, in which they
were not. I left them, therefore, under the persuasion that I was
superior to them, in the same way that I was to the politicians.
8. At last, therefore, I went to the artisans. For I was conscious to
myself that I knew scarcely anything, but I was sure that I should find
them possessed of much beautiful knowledge. And in this I was not
deceived; for they knew things which I did not, and in this respect they
were wiser than I. But, O Athenians! even the best workmen appeared to
me to have fallen into the same error as the poets; for each, because he
excelled in the practice of his art, thought that he was very wise in
other most important matters, and this mistake of theirs obscured the
wisdom that they really possessed. I therefore asked myself, in behalf
of the oracle, whether I should prefer to continue as I am, possessing
none, either of their wisdom or their ignorance, or to have both as they
have. I answered, therefore, to myself and to the oracle, that it was
better for me to continue as I am.
9. From this investigation, then, O Athenians! many enmities have arisen
against me, and those the most grievous and severe, so that many
calumnies have sprung from them, and among them this appellation of
being wise; for those who are from time to time present think that I am
wise in those things, with respect to which I expose the ignorance of
others. The god, however, O Athenians! appears to be really wise, and to
mean this by his oracle: that human wisdom is worth little or nothing;
and it is clear that he did not say this to Socrates, but made use of my
name, putting me forward as an example, as if he had said, that man is
the wisest among you, who, like Socrates, knows that he is in reality
worth nothing with respect to wisdom. Still, therefore, I go about and
search and inquire into these things, in obedience to the god, both
among citizens and strangers, if I think any one of them is wise; and
when he appears to me not to be so, I take the part of the god, and show
that he is not wise. And, in consequence of this occupation, I have no
leisure to attend in any considerable degree to the affairs of the state
or my own; but I am in the greatest poverty through my devotion to the
service of the god.
10. In addition to this, young men, who have much leisure and belong to
the wealthiest families, following me of their own accord, take great
delight in hearing men put to the test, and often imitate me, and
themselves attempt to put others to the test; and then, I think, they
find a great abundance of men who fancy they know something, although
they know little or nothing. Hence those who are put to the test by them
are angry with me, and not with them, and say that "there is one
Socrates, a most pestilent fellow, who corrupts the youth." And when any
one asks them by doing or teaching what, they have nothing to say, for
they do not know; but, that they may not seem to be at a loss, they say
such things as are ready at hand against all philosophers; "that he
searches into things in heaven and things under the earth, that he does
not believe there are gods, and that he makes the worse appear the
better reason." For they would not, I think, be willing to tell the
truth that they have been detected in pretending to possess knowledge,
whereas they know nothing. Therefore, I think, being ambitions and
vehement and numerous, and speaking systematically and persuasively
about me, they have filled your ears, for a long time and diligently
calumniating me. From among these, Melitus, Anytus and Lycon have
attacked me; Melitus being angry on account of the poets, Anytus on
account of the artisans and politicians, and Lycon on account of the
rhetoricians. So that, as I said in the beginning, I should wonder if I
were able in so short a time to remove from your minds a calumny that
has prevailed so long. This, O Athenians! is the truth; and I speak it
without concealing or disguising anything from you, much or little;
though I very well know that by so doing I shall expose myself to odium.
This, however, is a proof that I speak the truth, and that this is the
nature of the calumny against me, and that these are its causes. And if
you will investigate the matter, either now or hereafter, you will find
it to be so.
11. With respect, then, to the charges which my first accusers have
alleged against me, let this be a sufficient apology to you. To Melitus,
that good and patriotic man, as he says, and to my later accusers, I
will next endeavor to give an answer; and here, again, as there are
different accusers, let us take up their deposition. It is pretty much
as follows: "Socrates," it says, "acts unjustly in corrupting the youth,
and in not believing in those gods in whom the city believes, but in
other strange divinities." Such is the accusation; let us examine each
particular of it. It says that I act unjustly in corrupting the youth.
But I, O Athenians! say that Melitus acts unjustly, because he jests on
serious subjects, rashly putting men upon trial, under pretense of being
zealous and solicitous about things in which he never at any time took
any concern. But that this is the case I will endeavor to prove to you.
12. Come, then, Melitus, tell me, do you not consider it of the greatest
importance that the youth should be made as virtuous as possible?
_Mel._ I do.
_Socr._ Well, now, tell the judges who it is that makes them better, for
it is evident that you know, since it concerns you so much; for, having
detected me in corrupting them, as you say, you have cited me here, and
accused me: come, then, say, and inform the judges who it is that makes
them better. Do you see, Melitus, that you are silent, and have nothing
to say? But does it not appear to you to be disgraceful, and a
sufficient proof of what I say, that you never took any concern about
the matter? But tell me, friend, who makes them better?
_Mel._ The laws.
_Socr._ I do not ask this, most excellent sir, but what man, who surely
must first know this very thing, the laws?
_Mel._ These, Socrates, the judges.
_Socr._ How say you, Melitus? Are these able to instruct the youth, and
make them better?
_Mel._ Certainly.
_Socr._ Whether all, or some of them, and others not?
_Mel._ All.
_Socr._ You say well, by Juno! and have found a great abundance of those
that confer benefit. But what further? Can these hearers make them
better, or not?
_Mel._ They, too, can.
_Socr._ And what of the senators?
_Mel._ The senators, also.
_Socr._ But, Melitus, do those who attend the public assemblies corrupt
the younger men? or do they all make them better?
_Mel._ They too.
_Socr._ All the Athenians, therefore, as it seems, make them honorable
and good, except me; but I alone corrupt them. Do you say so?
_Mel._ I do assert this very thing.
_Socr._ You charge me with great ill-fortune. But answer me: does it
appear to you to be the same, with respect to horses? Do all men make
them better, and is there only some one that spoils them? or does quite
the contrary of this take place? Is there some one person who can make
them better, or very few; that is, the trainers? But if the generality
of men should meddle with and make use of horses, do they spoil them? Is
not this the case, Melitus, both with respect to horses and all other
animals? It certainly is so, whether you and Anytus deny it or not. For
it would be a great good-fortune for the youth if only one person
corrupted, and the rest benefited them. However, Melitus, you have
sufficiently shown that you never bestowed any care upon youth; and you
clearly evince your own negligence, in that you have never paid any
attention to the things with respect to which you accuse me.
13. Tell us further, Melitus, in the name of Jupiter, whether is it
better to dwell with good or bad citizens? Answer, my friend; for I ask
you nothing difficult. Do not the bad work some evil to those that are
continually near them, but the good some good?
_Mel._ Certainly.
_Socr._ Is there any one that wishes to be injured rather than benefited
by his associates? Answer, good man; for the law requires you to answer.
Is there any one who wishes to be injured?
_Mel._ No, surely.
_Socr._ Come, then, whether do you accuse me here, as one that corrupts
the youth, and makes them more depraved, designedly or undesignedly?
_Mel._ Designedly, I say.
_Socr._ What, then, Melitus, are you at your time of life so much wiser
than I at my time of life, as to know that the evil are always working
some evil to those that are most near to them, and the good some good;
but I have arrived at such a pitch of ignorance as not to know that if I
make any one of my associates depraved, I shall be in danger of
receiving some evil from him; and yet I designedly bring about this so
great evil, as you say? In this I can not believe you, Melitus, nor do I
think would any other man in the world. But either I do not corrupt the
youth, or, if I do corrupt them, I do it undesignedly: so that in both
cases you speak falsely. But if I corrupt them undesignedly, for such
involuntary offenses it is not usual to accuse one here, but to take one
apart, and teach and admonish one. For it is evident that if I am
taught, I shall cease doing what I do undesignedly. But you shunned me,
and were not willing to associate with and instruct me; but you accuse
me here, where it is usual to accuse those who need punishment, and not
instruction.
14. Thus, then, O Athenians! this now is clear that I have said; that
Melitus never paid any attention to these matters, much or little.
However, tell us, Melitus, how you say I corrupt the youth? Is it not
evidently, according to the indictment which you have preferred, by
teaching them not to believe in the gods in whom the city believes, but
in other strange deities? Do you not say that, by teaching these things,
I corrupt the youth?
_Mel._ Certainly I do say so.
_Socr._ By those very gods, therefore, Melitus, of whom the discussion
now is, speak still more clearly both to me and to these men. For I can
not understand whether you say that I teach them to believe that there
are certain gods (and in that case I do believe that there are gods, and
am not altogether an atheist, nor in this respect to blame), not,
however, those which the city believes in, but others; and this it is
that you accuse me of, that I introduce others. Or do you say outright
that I do not myself believe that there are gods, and that I teach
others the same?
_Mel._ I say this: that you do not believe in any gods at all.
_Socr._ O wonderful Melitus, how come you to say this? Do I not, then,
like the rest of mankind, believe that the sun and moon are gods?
_Mel._ No, by Jupiter, O judges! for he says that the sun is a stone,
and the moon an earth.
_Socr._ You fancy that you are accusing Anaxagoras, my dear Melitus, and
thus you put a slight on these men, and suppose them to be so illiterate
as not to know that the books of Anaxagoras of Clazomene are full of
such assertions. And the young, moreover, learn these things from me,
which they might purchase for a drachma, at most, in the orchestra, and
so ridicule Socrates, if he pretended they were his own, especially
since they are so absurd? I ask then, by Jupiter, do I appear to you to
believe that there is no god?
_Mel._ No, by Jupiter, none whatever.
_Socr._ You say what is incredible, Melitus, and that, as appears to me,
even to yourself. For this man, O Athenians! appears to me to be very
insolent and intemperate and to have preferred this indictment through
downright insolence, intemperance, and wantonness. For he seems, as it
were, to have composed an enigma for the purpose of making an
experiment. Whether will Socrates the wise know that I am jesting, and
contradict myself, or shall I deceive him and all who hear me? For, in
my opinion, he clearly contradicts himself in the indictment, as if he
should say, Socrates is guilty of wrong in not believing that there are
gods, and in believing that there are gods. And this, surely, is the act
of one who is trifling.
15. Consider with me now, Athenians, in what respect he appears to me to
say so. And do you, Melitus, answer me; and do ye, as I besought you at
the outset, remember not to make an uproar if I speak after my usual
manner.
Is there any man, Melitus, who believes that there are human affairs,
but does not believe that there are men? Let him answer, judges, and not
make so much noise. Is there any one who does not believe that there are
horses, but that there are things pertaining to horses? or who does not
believe that there are pipers, but that there are things pertaining to
pipes? There is not, O best of men! for since you are not willing to
answer, I say it to you and to all here present. But answer to this at
least: is there any one who believes that there are things relating to
demons, but does not believe that there are demons?
_Mel._ There is not.
_Socr._ How obliging you are in having hardly answered; though compelled
by these judges! You assert, then, that I do believe and teach things
relating to demons, whether they be new or old; therefore, according to
your admission, I do believe in things relating to demons, and this you
have sworn in the bill of indictment. If, then, I believe in things
relating to demons, there is surely an absolute necessity that I should
believe that there are demons. Is it not so? It is. For I suppose you to
assent, since you do not answer. But with respect to demons, do we not
allow that they are gods, or the children of gods? Do you admit this or
not?
_Mel._ Certainly.
_Socr._ Since, then, I allow that there are demons, as you admit, if
demons are a kind of gods, this is the point in which I say you speak
enigmatically and divert yourself in saying that I do not allow there
are gods, and again that I do allow there are, since I allow that there
are demons? But if demons are the children of gods, spurious ones,
either from nymphs or any others, of whom they are reported to be, what
man can think that there are sons of gods, and yet that there are not
gods? For it would be just as absurd as if any one should think that
there are mules, the offspring of horses and asses, but should not think
there are horses and asses. However, Melitus, it can not be otherwise
than that you have preferred this indictment for the purpose of trying
me, or because you were at a loss what real crime to allege against me;
for that you should persuade any man who has the smallest degree of
sense that the same person can think that there are things relating to
demons and to gods, and yet that there are neither demons, nor gods,
not heroes, is utterly impossible.
16. That I am not guilty, then, O Athenians! according to the indictment
of Melitus, appears to me not to require a lengthened defense; but what
I have said is sufficient. And as to what I said at the beginning, that
there is a great enmity toward me among the multitude, be assured it is
true. And this it is which will condemn me, if I am condemned, not
Melitus, nor Anytus, but the calumny and envy of the multitude, which
have already condemned many others, and those good men, and will, I
think, condemn others also; for there is no danger that it will stop
with me.
Perhaps, however, some one may say, "Are you not ashamed, Socrates, to
have pursued a study from which you are now in danger of dying?" To such
a person I should answer with good reason, You do not say well, friend,
if you think that a man, who is even of the least value, ought to take
into the account the risk of life or death, and ought not to consider
that alone when be performs any action, whether he is acting justly or
unjustly, and the part of a good man or bad man. For, according to your
reasoning, all those demi-gods that died at Troy would be vile
characters, as well all the rest as the son of Thetis, who so far
despised danger in comparison of submitting to disgrace, that when his
mother, who was a goddess, spoke to him, in his impatience to kill
Hector, something to this effect, as I think,[2] "My son, if you revenge
the death of your friend Patroclus, and slay Hector, you will yourself
die, for," she said, "death awaits you immediately after Hector;" but
he, on hearing this, despised death and danger, and dreading much more
to live as a coward, and not avenge his friend, said, "May I die
immediately when I have inflicted punishment on the guilty, that I may
not stay here an object of ridicule, by the curved ships, a burden to
the ground?"--do you think that he cared for death and danger? For thus
it is, O Athenians! in truth: wherever any one has posted himself,
either thinking it to be better, or has been posted by his chief, there,
as it appears to me, he ought to remain and meet danger, taking no
account either of death or anything else in comparison with disgrace.
17. I then should be acting strangely, O Athenians! if, when the
generals whom you chose to command me assigned me my post at Potidæa, at
Amphipolis, and at Delium, I then remained where they posted me, like
any other person, and encountered the danger of death; but when the
deity, as I thought and believed, assigned it as my duty to pass my life
in the study of philosophy, and examining myself and others, I should on
that occasion, through fear of death or any thing else whatsoever,
desert my post, strange indeed would it be; and then, in truth, any one
might justly bring me to trial, and accuse me of not believing in the
gods, from disobeying the oracle, fearing death, and thinking myself to
be wise when I am not. For to fear death, O Athenians! is nothing else
than to appear to be wise, without being so; for it is to appear to know
what one does not know. For no one knows but that death is the greatest
of all good to man; but men fear it, as if they well knew that it is the
greatest of evils. And how is not this the most reprehensible ignorance,
to think that one knows what one does not know? But I, O Athenians! in
this, perhaps, differ from most men; and if I should say that I am in
any thing wiser than another, it would be in this, that not having a
competent knowledge of the things in Hades, I also think that I have not
such knowledge. But to act unjustly, and to disobey my superior,
whether God or man, I know is evil and base. I shall never, therefore,
fear or shun things which, for aught I know, maybe good, before evils
which I know to be evils. So that, even if you should now dismiss me,
not yielding to the instances of Anytus, who said that either I should
not[3] appear here at all, or that, if I did appear, it was impossible
not to put me to death, telling you that if I escaped, your sons,
studying what Socrates teaches, would all be utterly corrupted; if you
should address me thus, "Socrates, we shall not now yield to Anytus, but
dismiss you, on this condition, however, that you no longer persevere in
your researches nor study philosophy; and if hereafter you are detected
in so doing, you shall die"--if, as I said, you should dismiss, me on
these terms, I should say to you, "O Athenians! I honor and love you;
but I shall obey God rather than you; and so long as I breathe and am
able, I shall not cease studying philosophy, and exhorting you and
warning any one of you I may happen to meet, saying, as I have been
accustomed to do: 'O best of men! seeing you are an Athenian, of a city
the most powerful and most renowned for wisdom and strength, are you not
ashamed of being careful for riches, how you may acquire them in
greatest abundance, and for glory, and honor, but care not nor take any
thought for wisdom and truth, and for your soul, how it maybe made most
perfect?'" And if any one of you should question my assertion, and
affirm that he does care for these things, I shall not at once let him
go, nor depart, but I shall question him, sift and prove him. And if he
should appear to me not to possess virtue, but to pretend that he does,
I shall reproach him for that he sets the least value on things of the
greatest worth, but the highest on things that are worthless. Thus I
shall act to all whom I meet, both young and old, stranger and citizen,
but rather to you, my fellow-citizens, because ye are more nearly allied
to me. For be well assured, this the deity commands. And I think that no
greater good has ever befallen you in the city than my zeal for the
service of the god. For I go about doing nothing else than persuading
you, both young and old, to take no care either for the body, or for
riches, prior to or so much as for the soul, how it may be made most
perfect, telling you that virtue does not spring from riches, but riches
and all other human blessings, both private and public, from virtue. If,
then, by saying these things, I corrupt the youth, these things must be
mischievous; but if any one says that I speak other things than these,
he misleads you.[4] Therefore I must say, O Athenians! either yield to
Anytus, or do not, either dismiss me or not, since I shall not act
otherwise, even though I must die many deaths.
18. Murmur not, O Athenians! but continue to attend to my request, not
to murmur at what I say, but to listen, for, as I think, you will derive
benefit from listening. For I am going to say other things to you, at
which, perhaps, you will raise a clamor; but on no account do so. Be
well assured, then, if you put me to death, being such a man as I say I
am, you will not injure me more than yourselves. For neither will
Melitus nor Anytus harm me; nor have they the power; for I do not think
that it is possible for a better man to be injured by a worse. He may
perhaps have me condemned to death, or banished, or deprived of civil
rights; and he or others may perhaps consider these as mighty evils; I,
how ever, do not consider them so, but that it is much more so to do
what he is now doing, to endeavor to put a man to death unjustly. Now,
therefore, O Athenians! I am far from making a defense on my behalf, as
any one might think, but I do so on your own behalf, lest by condemning
me you should offend at all with respect to the gift of the deity to
you. For, if you should put me to death, you will not easily find such
another, though it may be ridiculous to say so, altogether attached by
the deity to this city as to a powerful and generous horse, somewhat
sluggish from his size, and requiring to be roused by a gad-fly; so the
deity appears to have united me, being such a person as I am, to the
city, that I may rouse you, and persuade and reprove every one of you,
nor ever cease besetting you throughout the whole day. Such another man,
O Athenians! will not easily be found; therefore, if you will take my
advice, you will spare me. But you, perhaps, being irritated like drowsy
persons who are roused from sleep, will strike me, and, yielding to
Anytus, will unthinkingly condemn me to death; and then you will pass
the rest of your life in sleep, unless the deity, caring for you, should
send some one else to you. But that I am a person who has been given by
the deity to this city, you may discern from hence; for it is not like
the ordinary conduct of men, that I should have neglected all my own
affairs, and suffered my private interest to be neglected for so many
years, and that I should constantly attend to your concerns, addressing
myself to each of you separately, like a father, or elder brother,
persuading you to the pursuit of virtue. And if I had derived any profit
from this course, and had received pay for my exhortations, there would
have been some reason for my conduct; but now you see yourselves that my
accusers, who have so shamelessly calumniated me in everything else,
have not had the impudence to charge me with this, and to bring
witnesses to prove that I ever either exacted or demanded any reward.
And I think I produce a sufficient proof that I speak the truth,
namely, my poverty.
19. Perhaps, however, it may appear absurd that I, going about, thus
advise you in private and make myself busy, but never venture to present
myself in public before your assemblies and give advice to the city. The
cause of this is that which you have often and in many places heard me
mention; because I am moved by a certain divine and spiritual influence,
which also Melitus, through mockery, has set out in the indictment. This
began with me from childhood, being a kind of voice which, when present,
always diverts me from what I am about to do, but never urges me on.
This it is which opposed my meddling in public politics; and it appears
to me to have opposed me very properly. For be well assured, O
Athenians! if I had long since attempted to intermeddle with politics, I
should have perished long ago, and should not have at all benefited you
or myself. And be not angry with me for speaking the truth. For it is
not possible that any man should be safe who sincerely opposes either
you, or any other multitude, and who prevents many unjust and illegal
actions from being committed in a city; but it is necessary that he who
in earnest contends for justice, if he will be safe for but a short
time, should live privately, and take no part in public affairs.
20. I will give you strong proofs of this, not words, but what you
value, facts. Hear, then, what has happened to me, that you may know
that I would not yield to any one contrary to what is just, through fear
of death, at the same time by not yielding I must perish. I shall tell
you what will be displeasing and wearisome,[5] yet true. For I, O
Athenians! never bore any other magisterial office in the city, but
have been a senator: and our Antiochean tribe happened to supply the
Prytanes when you chose to condemn in a body the ten generals who had
not taken off those that perished in the sea-fight, in violation of the
law, as you afterward all thought. At that time I alone of the Prytanes
opposed your doing anything contrary to the laws, and I voted against
you; and when the orators were ready to denounce me, and to carry me
before a magistrate, and you urged and cheered them on, I thought I
ought rather to meet the danger with law and justice on my side, than
through fear of imprisonment or death, to take part with you in your
unjust designs. And this happened while the city was governed by a
democracy. But when it became an oligarchy, the Thirty, having sent for
me with four others to the Tholus, ordered us to bring Leon the
Salaminian from Salamis, that he might be put to death; and they gave
many similar orders to many others, wishing to involve as many as they
could in guilt. Then, however, I showed, not in word but in deed, that I
did not care for death, if the expression be not too rude, in the
smallest degree; but that all my care was to do nothing unjust or
unholy. For that government, strong as it was, did not so overawe me as
to make me commit an unjust action; but when we came out from the
Tholus, the four went to Salamis, and brought back Leon; but I went away
home. And perhaps for this I should have been put to death, if that
government had not been speedily broken up. And of this you can have
many witnesses.
21. Do you think, then, that I should have survived so many years if I
had engaged in public affairs, and, acting as becomes a good man, had
aided the cause of justice, and, as I ought, had deemed this of the
highest importance? Far from it, O Athenians! nor would any other man
have done so. But I, through the whole of my life, if I have done
anything in public, shall be found to be a man, and the very same in
private, who has never made a concession to any one contrary to justice,
neither to any other, nor to any one of these whom my calumniators say
are my disciples. I, however, was never the preceptor of any one; but if
any one desired to hear me speaking, and to see me busied about my own
mission, whether he were young or old, I never refused him. Nor do I
discourse when I receive money, and not when I do not receive any, but I
allow both rich and poor alike to question me, and, if any one wishes
it, to answer me and hear what I have to say. And for these, whether any
one proves to be a good man or not, I cannot justly be responsible,
because I never either promised them any instruction or taught them at
all. But if any one says that he has ever learned or heard anything from
me in private which all others have not, be well assured that he does
not speak the truth.
22. But why do some delight to spend so long a time with me? Ye have
heard, O Athenians! I have told you the whole truth, that they delight
to hear those closely questioned who think that they are wise but are
not; for this is by no means disagreeable. But this duty, as I say, has
been enjoined me by the deity, by oracles, by dreams, and by every mode
by which any other divine decree has ever enjoined anything to man to
do. These things, O Athenians! are both true, and easily confuted if not
true. For if I am now corrupting some of the youths, and have already
corrupted others, it were fitting, surely, that if any of them, having
become advanced in life, had discovered that I gave them bad advice when
they were young, they should now rise up against me, accuse me, and have
me punished; or if they were themselves unwilling to do this, some of
their kindred, their fathers, or brothers, or other relatives, if their
kinsman have ever sustained any damage from me, should now call it to
mind. Many of them, however, are here present, whom I see: first, Crito,
my contemporary and fellow-burgher, father of this Critobulus; then
Lysanias of Sphettus, father of this Æschines; again, Antiphon of
Cephisus, father of Epigenes. There are those others, too, whose
brothers maintained the same intimacy with me, namely, Nicostratus, son
of Theodotus, brother of Theodotus--Theodotus indeed is dead, so that he
could not deprecate his brother's proceedings--and Paralus here, son of
Demodocus, whose brother was Theages; and Adimantus, son of Ariston,
whose brother is this Plato; and Æantodorus, whose brother is this
Apollodorus. I could also mention many others to you, some one of whom
certainly Melitus ought to have adduced in his speech as a witness. If,
however, he then forgot to do so, let him now adduce them; I give him
leave to do so, and let him say it, if he has anything of the kind to
allege. But, quite contrary to this, you will find, O Athenians! all
ready to assist me, who have corrupted and injured their relatives, as
Melitus and Anytus say. For those who have been themselves corrupted
might perhaps have some reason for assisting me; but those who have not
been corrupted, men now advanced in life, their relatives, what other
reason can they have for assisting me, except that right and just one,
that they know that Melitus speaks falsely, and that I speak the truth.
23. Well, then, Athenians, these are pretty much the things I have to
say in my defense, and others perhaps of the same kind. Perhaps,
however, some among you will be indignant on recollecting his own case,
if he, when engaged in a cause far less than this, implored and besought
the judges with many tears, bringing forward his children in order that
he might excite their utmost compassion, and many others of his
relatives and friends, whereas I do none of these things, although I may
appear to be incurring the extremity of danger. Perhaps, therefore, some
one, taking notice of this, may become more determined against me, and,
being enraged at this very conduct of mine, may give his vote under the
influence of anger. If, then, any one of you is thus affected--I do not,
however, suppose that there is--but if there should be, I think I may
reasonably say to him: "I, too, O best of men, have relatives; for, to
make use of that saying of Homer, I am not sprung from an oak, nor from
a rock, but from men, so that I, too, O Athenians! have relatives, and
three sons, one now grown up, and two boys: I shall not, however, bring
any one of them forward and implore you to acquit me." Why, then, shall I
not do this? Not from contumacy, O Athenians! nor disrespect toward you.
Whether or not I am undaunted at the prospect of death is another
question; but, out of regard to my own character, and yours, and that of
the whole city, it does not appear to me to be honorable that I should
do any thing of this kind at my age, and with the reputation I have,
whether true or false. For it is commonly agreed that Socrates in some
respects excels the generality of men. If, then, those among you who
appear to excel either in wisdom, or fortitude, or any other virtue
whatsoever, should act in such a manner as I have often seen some when
they have been brought to trial, it would be shameful, who appearing
indeed to be something, have conducted themselves in a surprising
manner, as thinking they should suffer something dreadful by dying, and
as if they would be immortal if you did not put them to death. Such men
appear to me to bring disgrace on the city, so that any stranger might
suppose that such of the Athenians as excel in virtue, and whom they
themselves choose in preference to themselves for magistracies and other
honors, are in no respect superior to women. For these things, O
Athenians! neither ought we to do who have attained to any height of
reputation, nor, should we do them, ought you to suffer us; but you
should make this manifest, that you will much rather condemn him who
introduces these piteous dramas, and makes the city ridiculous, than him
who quietly awaits your decision.
24. But, reputation apart, O Athenians! it does not appear to me to be
right to entreat a judge, or to escape by entreaty; but one ought to
inform and persuade him. For a judge does not sit for the purpose of
administering justice out of favor, but that he may judge rightly, and
he is sworn not to show favor to whom he pleases, but that he will
decide according to the laws. It is, therefore, right that neither
should we accustom you, nor should you accustom yourselves, to violate
your oaths; for in so doing neither of us would act righteously. Think
not then, O Athenians! that I ought to adopt such a course toward you as
I neither consider honorable, nor just, nor holy, as well, by Jupiter!
on any other occasion, and now especially when I am accused of impiety
by this Melitus. For clearly, if I should persuade you, and by my
entreaties should put a constraint on you who are bound by an oath, I
should teach you to think that there are no gods, and in reality, while
making my defense, should accuse myself of not believing in the gods.
This, however, is far from being the case; for I believe, O Athenians!
as none of my accusers do, and I leave it to you and to the deity to
judge concerning me in such way as will be best both for me and for you.
[Socrates here concludes his defense, and, the votes being taken, he is
declared guilty by a majority of voices. He thereupon resumes his
address.]
25. That I should not be grieved, O Athenians! at what has
happened--namely, that you have condemned me--as well many other
circumstances concur in bringing to pass; and, moreover this, that what
has happened has not happened contrary to my expectation; but I much
rather wonder at the number of votes on either side. For I did not
expect that I should be condemned by so small a number, but by a large
majority; but now, as it seems, if only three more votes had changed
sides, I should have been acquitted. So far as Melitus is concerned, as
it appears to me, I have been already acquitted; and not only have I
been acquitted, but it is clear to every one that had not Anytus and
Lycon come forward to accuse me, he would have been fined a thousand
drachmas, for not having obtained a fifth part of the votes.
26. The man, then, awards me the penalty of death. Well. But what shall
I, on my part, O Athenians! award myself? Is it not clear that it will
be such as I deserve? What, then, is that? Do I deserve to suffer, or to
pay a fine? for that I have purposely during my life not remained quiet,
but neglecting what most men seek after, money-making, domestic
concerns, military command, popular oratory, and, moreover, all the
magistracies, conspiracies, and cabals that are met with in the city,
thinking that I was in reality too upright a man to be safe if I took
part in such things, I therefore did not apply myself to those pursuits,
by attending to which I should have been of no service either to you or
to myself; but in order to confer the greatest benefit on each of you
privately, as I affirm, I thereupon applied myself to that object,
endeavoring to persuade every one of you not to take any care of his own
affairs before he had taken care of himself in what way he may become
the best and wisest, nor of the affairs of the city before he took care
of the city itself; and that he should attend to other things in the
same manner. What treatment, then, do I deserve, seeing I am such a man?
Some reward, O Athenians! if, at least, I am to be estimated according
to my real deserts; and, moreover, such a reward as would be suitable to
me. What, then, is suitable to a poor man, a benefactor, and who has
need of leisure in order to give you good advice? There is nothing so
suitable, O Athenians! as that such a man should be maintained in the
Prytaneum, and this much more than if one of you had been victorious at
the Olympic games in a horserace, or in the two or four horsed chariot
race: for such a one makes you appear to be happy, but I, to be so; and
he does not need support, but I do. If, therefore, I must award a
sentence according to my just deserts, I award this, maintenance in the
Prytaneum.
27. Perhaps, however, in speaking to you thus, I appear to you to speak
in the same presumptuous manner as I did respecting commiseration and
entreaties; but such is not the case, O Athenians! it is rather this: I
am persuaded that I never designedly injured any man, though I can not
persuade you of this, for we have conversed with each other but for a
short time. For if there were the same law with you as with other men,
that in capital cases the trial should list not only one day, but many,
I think you would be persuaded; but it is not easy in a short time to do
away with, great calumnies. Being persuaded, then, that I have injured
no one, I am far from intending to injure myself, and of pronouncing
against myself that I am deserving of punishment, and from awarding
myself any thing of the kind. Through fear of what? lest I should
suffer that which Melitus awards me, of which I say I know not whether
it he good or evil? Instead of this, shall I choose what I well know to
be evil, and award that? Shall I choose imprisonment? And why should I
live in prison, a slave to the established magistracy, the Eleven? Shall
I choose a fine, and to be imprisoned until I have paid it? But this is
the same as that which I just now mentioned, for I have not money to pay
it. Shall I, then, award myself exile? For perhaps you would consent to
this award. I should indeed be very fond of life, O Athenians! if I were
so devoid of reason as not to be able to reflect that you, who are my
fellow-citizens, have been unable to endure my manner of life and
discourses, but they have become so burdensome and odious to you that
you now seek to be rid of them: others, however, will easily bear them.
Far from it, O Athenians! A fine life it would be for me at my age to go
out wandering, and driven from city to city, and so to live. For I well
know that, wherever I may go, the youth will listen to me when I speak,
as they do here. And if I repulse them, they will themselves drive me
out, persuading the elders; and if I do not repulse them, their fathers
and kindred will banish me on their account.
28. Perhaps, however, some one will say, Can you not, Socrates, when you
have gone from us, live a silent and quiet life? This is the most
difficult thing of all to persuade some of you. For if I say that that
would be to disobey the deity, and that, therefore, it is impossible for
me to live quietly, you would not believe me, thinking I spoke
ironically. If, on the other hand, I say that this is the greatest good
to man, to discourse daily on virtue, and other things which you have
heard me discussing, examining both myself and others, but that a life
without investigation is not worth living for, still less would you
believe me if I said this. Such, however, is the case, as I affirm, O
Athenians! though it is not easy to persuade you. And at the same time I
am not accustomed to think myself deserving of any ill. If, indeed, I
were rich, I would amerce myself in such a sum as I should be able to
pay; for then I should have suffered no harm, but now--for I can not,
unless you are willing to amerce me in such a sum as I am able to pay.
But perhaps I could pay you a mina of silver: in that sum, then, I
amerce myself. But Plato here, O Athenians! and Crito Critobulus, and
Apollodorus bid me amerce myself in thirty minae, and they offer to be
sureties. I amerce myself, then, to you in that sum; and they will be
sufficient sureties for the money.
[The judges now proceeded to pass the sentence, and condemned Socrates
to death; whereupon he continued:]
29. For the sake of no long space of time, O Athenians! you will incur
the character and reproach at the hands of those who wish to defame the
city, of having put that wise man, Socrates, to death. For those who
wish to defame you will assert that I am wise, though I am not. If,
then, you had waited for a short time, this would have happened of its
own accord; for observe my age, that it is far advanced in life, and
near death. But I say this not to you all, but to those only who have
condemned me to die. And I say this, too, to the same persons. Perhaps
you think, O Athenians! that I have been convicted through the want of
arguments, by which I might have persuaded you, had I thought it right
to do and say any thing, so that I might escape punishment. Far
otherwise: I have been convicted through want indeed, yet not of
arguments, but of audacity and impudence, and of the inclination to say
such things to you as would have been most agreeable for you to hear,
had I lamented and bewailed and done and said many other things
unworthy of me, as I affirm, but such as you are accustomed to hear from
others. But neither did I then think that I ought, for the sake of
avoiding danger, to do any thing unworthy of a freeman, nor do I now
repent of having so defended myself; but I should much rather choose to
die, having so defended myself, than to live in that way. For neither in
a trial nor in battle is it right that I or any one else should employ
every possible means whereby he may avoid death; for in battle it is
frequently evident that a man might escape death by laying down his
arms, and throwing himself on the mercy of his pursuers. And there are
many other devices in every danger, by which to avoid death, if a man
dares to do and say every thing. But this is not difficult, O Athenians!
to escape death; but it is much more difficult to avoid depravity, for
it runs swifter than death. And now I, being slow and aged, am overtaken
by the slower of the two; but my accusers, being strong and active, have
been overtaken by the swifter, wickedness. And now I depart, condemned
by you to death; but they condemned by truth, as guilty of iniquity and
injustice: and I abide my sentence, and so do they. These things,
perhaps, ought so to be, and I think that they are for the best.
30. In the next place, I desire to predict to you who have condemned me,
what will be your fate; for I am now in that condition in which men most
frequently prophesy--namely, when they are about to die. I say, then, to
you, O Athenians! who have condemned me to death, that immediately after
my death a punishment will overtake you, far more severe, by Jupiter!
than that which you have inflicted on me. For you have done this,
thinking you should be freed from the necessity of giving an account of
your lives. The very contrary, however, as I affirm, will happen to you.
Your accusers will be more numerous, whom I have now restrained, though
you did not perceive it; and they will be more severe, inasmuch as they
are younger, and you will be more indignant. For if you think that by
putting men to death you will restrain any one from upbraiding you
because you do not live well, you are much mistaken; for this method of
escape is neither possible nor honorable; but that other is most
honorable and most easy, not to put a check upon others, but for a man
to take heed to himself how he may be most perfect. Having predicted
thus much to those of you who have condemned me, I take my leave of you.
31. But with you who have voted for my acquittal I would gladly hold
converse on what has now taken place, while the magistrates are busy,
and I am not yet carried to the place where I must die. Stay with me,
then, so long, O Athenians! for nothing hinders our conversing with each
other, while we are permitted to do so; for I wish to make known to you,
as being my friends, the meaning of that which has just now befallen me.
To me, then, O my judges! and in calling you judges I call you
rightly--a strange thing has happened. For the wonted prophetic voice of
my guardian deity on every former occasion, even in the most trifling
affairs, opposed me if I was about to do any thing wrong; but now that
has befallen me which ye yourselves behold, and which any one would
think, and which is supposed to be the extremity of evil; yet neither
when I departed from home in the morning did the warning of the god
oppose me, nor when I came up here to the place of trial, nor in my
address when I was about to say any thing; yet on other occasions it has
frequently restrained me in the midst of speaking. But now it has never,
throughout this proceeding, opposed me, either in what I did or said.
What, then, do I suppose to be the cause of this? I will tell you: what
has befallen me appears to be a blessing; and it is impossible that we
think rightly who suppose that death is an evil. A great proof of this
to me is the fact that it is impossible but that the accustomed signal
should have opposed me, unless I had been about to meet with some good.
32. Moreover, we may hence conclude that there is great hope that death
is a blessing. For to die is one of two things: for either the dead may
be annihilated, and have no sensation of any thing whatever; or, as it
is said, there are a certain change and passage of the soul from one
place to another. And if it is a privation of all sensation, as it were
a sleep in which the sleeper has no dream, death would be a wonderful
gain. For I think that if any one, having selected a night in which he
slept so soundly as not to have had a dream, and having compared this
night with all the other nights and days of his life, should be
required, on consideration, to say how many days and nights he had
passed better and more pleasantly than this night throughout his life, I
think that not only a private person, but even the great king himself,
would find them easy to number, in comparison with other days and
nights. If, therefore, death is a thing of this kind, I say it is a
gain; for thus all futurity appears to be nothing more than one night.
But if, on the other hand, death is a removal from hence to another
place, and what is said be true, that all the dead are there, what
greater blessing can there be than this, my judges? For if, on arriving
at Hades, released from these who pretend to be judges, one shall find
those who are true judges, and who are said to judge there, Minos and
Rhadamanthus, Æacus and Triptolemus, and such others of the demi-gods as
were just during their own life, would this be a sad removal? At what
price would you not estimate a conference with Orpheus and Musæus,
Hesiod and Homer? I indeed should be willing to die often, if this be
true. For to me the sojourn there would be admirable, when I should meet
with Palamedes, and Ajax, son of Telamon, and any other of the ancients
who has died by an unjust sentence. The comparing my sufferings with
theirs would, I think, be no unpleasing occupation. But the greatest
pleasure would be to spend my time in questioning and examining the
people there as I have done those here, and discovering who among them
is wise, and who fancies himself to be so, but is not. At what price, my
judges, would not any one estimate the opportunity of questioning him
who led that mighty army against Troy, or Ulysses, or Sisyphus, or ten
thousand others whom one might mention both men and women--with whom to
converse and associate, and to question them, would be an inconceivable
happiness? Surely for that the judges there do not condemn to death; for
in other respects those who live there are more happy than those who are
here, and are henceforth immortal, if, at least, what is said be true.
33. You, therefore, O my judges! ought to entertain good hopes with
respect to death, and to meditate on this one truth, that to a good man
nothing is evil, neither while living nor when dead, nor are his
concerns neglected by the gods. And what has befallen me is not the
effect of chance; but this is clear to me, that now to die, and be freed
from my cares is better for me On this account the warning in no way
turned me aside; and I bear no resentment toward those who condemned me,
or against my accusers, although they did not condemn and accuse me with
this intention, but thinking to injure me: in this they deserve to be
blamed.
Thus much, however, I beg of them. Punish my sons when they grow up, O
judges! paining them as I have pained you, if they appear to you to care
for riches or anything else before virtue; and if they think themselves
to be something when they are nothing, reproach them as I have done you,
for not attending to what they ought, and for conceiving themselves to
be something when they are worth nothing. If ye do this, both I and my
sons shall have met with just treatment at your hands.
But it is now time to depart--for me to die, for you to live. But which
of us is going to a better state is unknown to every one but God.