INTRODUCTION._The dialogues of Plato in five volumes, Vol. 2 (of 5)

[Sidenote: _Apology._]

[Sidenote: INTRODUCTION.]

In what relation the Apology of Plato stands to the real defence of

Socrates, there are no means of determining. It certainly agrees in

tone and character with the description of Xenophon, who says in the

Memorabilia (iv. 4, 4) that Socrates might have been acquitted ‘if in any

moderate degree he would have conciliated the favour of the dicasts;’

and who informs us in another passage (iv. 8, 4), on the testimony of

Hermogenes, the friend of Socrates, that he had no wish to live; and

that the divine sign refused to allow him to prepare a defence, and also

that Socrates himself declared this to be unnecessary, on the ground

that all his life long he had been preparing against that hour. For the

speech breathes throughout a spirit of defiance, ‘ut non supplex aut reus

sed magister aut dominus videretur esse judicum’ (Cic. de Orat. i. 54);

and the loose and desultory style is an imitation of the ‘accustomed

manner’ in which Socrates spoke in ‘the agora and among the tables of

the money-changers.’ The allusion in the Crito (45 B) may, perhaps, be

adduced as a further evidence of the literal accuracy of some parts (37

C, D). But in the main it must be regarded as the ideal of Socrates,

according to Plato’s conception of him, appearing in the greatest and

most public scene of his life, and in the height of his triumph, when

he is weakest, and yet his mastery over mankind is greatest, and his

habitual irony acquires a new meaning and a sort of tragic pathos in the

face of death. The facts of his life are summed up, and the features of

his character are brought out as if by accident in the course of the

defence. The conversational manner, the seeming want of arrangement, the

ironical simplicity, are found to result in a perfect work of art, which

is the portrait of Socrates.

[Sidenote: _The Platonic defence of Socrates._]

Yet some of the topics may have been actually used by Socrates; and the

recollection of his very words may have rung in the ears of his disciple.

The Apology of Plato may be compared generally with those speeches of

Thucydides in which he has embodied his conception of the lofty character

and policy of the great Pericles, and which at the same time furnish a

commentary on the situation of affairs from the point of view of the

historian. So in the Apology there is an ideal rather than a literal

truth; much is said which was not said, and is only Plato’s view of the

situation. Plato was not, like Xenophon, a chronicler of facts; he does

not appear in any of his writings to have aimed at literal accuracy. He

is not therefore to be supplemented from the Memorabilia and Symposium

of Xenophon, who belongs to an entirely different class of writers.

The Apology of Plato is not the report of what Socrates said, but an

elaborate composition, quite as much so in fact as one of the Dialogues.

And we may perhaps even indulge in the fancy that the actual defence of

Socrates was as much greater than the Platonic defence as the master was

greater than the disciple. But in any case, some of the words used by

him must have been remembered, and some of the facts recorded must have

actually occurred. It is significant that Plato is said to have been

present at the defence (Apol. 38 B), as he is also said to have been

absent at the last scene in the Phaedo (59 B). Is it fanciful to suppose

that he meant to give the stamp of authenticity to the one and not to

the other?—especially when we consider that these two passages are the

only ones in which Plato makes mention of himself. The circumstance that

Plato was to be one of his sureties for the payment of the fine which he

proposed has the appearance of truth. More suspicious is the statement

that Socrates received the first impulse to his favourite calling of

cross-examining the world from the Oracle of Delphi; for he must already

have been famous before Chaerephon went to consult the Oracle (Riddell,

i. p. xvi), and the story is of a kind which is very likely to have been

invented. On the whole we arrive at the conclusion that the Apology is

true to the character of Socrates, but we cannot show that any single

sentence in it was actually spoken by him. It breathes the spirit of

Socrates, but has been cast anew in the mould of Plato.

[Sidenote: _Analysis 17-19._]

There is not much in the other Dialogues which can be compared with the

Apology. The same recollection of his master may have been present to the

mind of Plato when depicting the sufferings of the Just in the Republic

(ii. 361 foll., vi. 500 A). The Crito may also be regarded as a sort of

appendage to the Apology, in which Socrates, who has defied the judges,

is nevertheless represented as scrupulously obedient to the laws. The

idealization of the sufferer is carried still further in the Gorgias (476

foll.), in which the thesis is maintained, that ‘to suffer is better

than to do evil;’ and the art of rhetoric is described as only useful

for the purpose of self-accusation. The parallelisms which occur in the

so-called Apology of Xenophon are not worth noticing, because the writing

in which they are contained is manifestly spurious. The statements of

the Memorabilia (i. 2; iv. 8) respecting the trial and death of Socrates

agree generally with Plato; but they have lost the flavour of Socratic

irony in the narrative of Xenophon.

The Apology or Platonic defence of Socrates is divided into three

parts: 1st. The defence properly so called; 2nd. The shorter address in

mitigation of the penalty; 3rd. The last words of prophetic rebuke and

exhortation.

* * * * *

The first part commences with an apology for his colloquial style;

he is, as he has always been, the enemy of rhetoric, and =Steph.= 17

knows of no rhetoric but truth; he will not falsify his character

by making a speech. Then he proceeds to divide his accusers into 18

two classes; first, there is the nameless accuser—public opinion.

All the world from their earliest years had heard that he was

a corrupter of youth, and had seen him caricatured in the Clouds

of Aristophanes. Secondly, there are the professed accusers, who

are but the mouth-piece of the others. The accusations of both

might be summed up in a formula. The first say, ‘Socrates is an

evil-doer and a curious person, searching into things under the

earth and above the heaven; and making the worse appear the

better cause, and teaching all this to others.’ The second,

‘Socrates is an evil-doer and corrupter of the youth, who does

not receive the gods whom the state receives, but introduces other

new divinities.’ These last words appear to have been the actual

indictment (cp. Xen. Mem. i. 1); and the previous formula, which

is a summary of public opinion, assumes the same legal style.

[Sidenote: _Analysis 19-23._]

The answer begins by clearing up a confusion. In the representations

of the Comic poets, and in the opinion of the multitude, 19

he had been identified with the teachers of physical science and

with the Sophists. But this was an error. For both of them

he professes a respect in the open court, which contrasts with his

manner of speaking about them in other places. (Cp. for Anaxagoras,

Phaedo 98 B, Laws xii. 967; for the Sophists, Meno 95 D,

Rep. vi. 492, Tim. 19 E, Theaet. 154 E, Soph. 265 foll., etc.) But

at the same time he shows that he is not one of them. Of natural

philosophy he knows nothing; not that he despises such pursuits,

but the fact is that he is ignorant of them, and never says a word

about them. Nor is he paid for giving instruction—that is another

mistaken notion:—he has nothing to teach. But he commends 20

Evenus for teaching virtue at such a ‘moderate’ rate as five

minae. Something of the ‘accustomed irony,’ which may perhaps

be expected to sleep in the ear of the multitude, is lurking

here.

[Sidenote: _Analysis 23-30._]

He then goes on to explain the reason why he is in such an evil

name. That had arisen out of a peculiar mission which he had

taken upon himself. The enthusiastic Chaerephon (probably in 21

anticipation of the answer which he received) had gone to

Delphi and asked the oracle if there was any man wiser than

Socrates; and the answer was, that there was no man wiser.

What could be the meaning of this—that he who knew nothing,

and knew that he knew nothing, should be declared by the oracle

to be the wisest of men? Reflecting upon the answer, he determined

to refute it by finding ‘a wiser;’ and first he went to the

politicians, and then to the poets, and then to the craftsmen, but 22

always with the same result—he found that they knew nothing, or

hardly anything more than himself; and that the little advantage

which in some cases they possessed was more than counter-balanced

by their conceit of knowledge. He knew nothing, and

knew that he knew nothing: they knew little or nothing, and

imagined that they knew all things. Thus he had passed his 23

life as a sort of missionary in detecting the pretended wisdom

of mankind; and this occupation had quite absorbed him and

taken him away both from public and private affairs. Young

men of the richer sort had made a pastime of the same pursuit,

‘which was not unamusing.’ And hence bitter enmities had

arisen; the professors of knowledge had revenged themselves

by calling him a villainous corrupter of youth, and by repeating

the commonplaces about atheism and materialism and sophistry,

which are the stock-accusations against all philosophers when 24

there is nothing else to be said of them.

The second accusation he meets by interrogating Meletus, who

is present and can be interrogated. ‘If he is the corrupter, who

is the improver of the citizens?’ (Cp. Meno 91 C.) ‘All men

everywhere.’ But how absurd, how contrary to analogy is this! 25

How inconceivable too, that he should make the citizens worse

when he has to live with them. This surely cannot be intentional;

and if unintentional, he ought to have been instructed by Meletus, 26

and not accused in the court.

But there is another part of the indictment which says that he

teaches men not to receive the gods whom the city receives, and

has other new gods. ‘Is that the way in which he is supposed to

corrupt the youth?’ ‘Yes, it is.’ ‘Has he only new gods, or none

at all? ‘None at all.’ ‘What, not even the sun and moon?’

‘No; why, he says that the sun is a stone, and the moon earth.’

That, replies Socrates, is the old confusion about Anaxagoras;

the Athenian people are not so ignorant as to attribute to the

influence of Socrates notions which have found their way into the

drama, and may be learned at the theatre. Socrates undertakes

to show that Meletus (rather unjustifiably) has been compounding 27

a riddle in this part of the indictment: ‘There are no gods, but

Socrates believes in the existence of the sons of gods, which is

absurd.’

Leaving Meletus, who has had enough words spent upon him, 28

he returns to the original accusation. The question may be

asked, Why will he persist in following a profession which leads

him to death? Why?—because he must remain at his post where

the god has placed him, as he remained at Potidaea, and Amphipolis,

and Delium, where the generals placed him. Besides, he is 29

not so overwise as to imagine that he knows whether death is

a good or an evil; and he is certain that desertion of his duty

is an evil. Anytus is quite right in saying that they should never 30

have indicted him if they meant to let him go. For he will certainly

obey God rather than man; and will continue to preach to

all men of all ages the necessity of virtue and improvement; and

if they refuse to listen to him he will still persevere and reprove

them. This is his way of corrupting the youth, which he will not

cease to follow in obedience to the god, even if a thousand deaths

await him.

[Sidenote: _Analysis 30-35._]

He is desirous that they should let him live—not for his own

sake, but for theirs; because he is their heaven-sent friend (and 31

they will never have such another), or, as he may be ludicrously

described, he is the gadfly who stirs the generous steed into

motion. Why then has he never taken part in public affairs?

Because the familiar divine voice has hindered him; if he had

been a public man, and had fought for the right, as he would

certainly have fought against the many, he would not have lived,

and could therefore have done no good. Twice in public matters 32

he has risked his life for the sake of justice—once at the trial

of the generals; and again in resistance to the tyrannical commands

of the Thirty.

But, though not a public man, he has passed his days in instructing

the citizens without fee or reward—this was his mission.

Whether his disciples have turned out well or ill, he cannot justly

be charged with the result, for he never promised to teach them 33

anything. They might come if they liked, and they might stay

away if they liked: and they did come, because they found an

amusement in hearing the pretenders to wisdom detected. If

they have been corrupted, their elder relatives (if not themselves)

might surely come into court and witness against him, and there

is an opportunity still for them to appear. But their fathers 34

and brothers all appear in court (including ‘this’ Plato), to

witness on his behalf; and if their relatives are corrupted,

at least they are uncorrupted; ‘and they are my witnesses.

For they know that I am speaking the truth, and that Meletus

is lying.’

This is about all that he has to say. He will not entreat the

judges to spare his life; neither will he present a spectacle of

weeping children, although he, too, is not made of ‘rock or oak.’ 35

Some of the judges themselves may have complied with this

practice on similar occasions, and he trusts that they will not be

angry with him for not following their example. But he feels

that such conduct brings discredit on the name of Athens: he

feels, too, that the judge has sworn not to give away justice; and

he cannot be guilty of the impiety of asking the judge to break his

oath, when he is himself being tried for impiety.

[Sidenote: _Analysis 36-41._]

As he expected, and probably intended, he is convicted. And 36

now the tone of the speech, instead of being more conciliatory,

becomes more lofty and commanding. Anytus proposes death

as the penalty: and what counter-proposition shall he make?

He, the benefactor of the Athenian people, whose whole life has

been spent in doing them good, should at least have the Olympic

victor’s reward of maintenance in the Prytaneum. Or why 37

should he propose any counter-penalty when he does not know

whether death, which Anytus proposes, is a good or an evil?

and he is certain that imprisonment is an evil, exile is an evil.

Loss of money might be no evil, but then he has none to give;

perhaps he can make up a mina. Let that be the penalty, or, 38

if his friends wish, thirty minae; for which they will be excellent

securities.

[_He is condemned to death._]

He is an old man already, and the Athenians will gain nothing

but disgrace by depriving him of a few years of life. Perhaps he

could have escaped, if he had chosen to throw down his arms and

entreat for his life. But he does not at all repent of the manner

of his defence; he would rather die in his own fashion than live

in theirs. For the penalty of unrighteousness is swifter than 39

death; that penalty has already overtaken his accusers as death

will soon overtake him.

And now, as one who is about to die, he will prophesy to them.

They have put him to death in order to escape the necessity of

giving an account of their lives. But his death ‘will be the seed’

of many disciples who will convince them of their evil ways, and

will come forth to reprove them in harsher terms, because they

are younger and more inconsiderate.

[Sidenote: _Analysis 41-42._]

He would like to say a few words, while there is time, to those 40

who would have acquitted him. He wishes them to know that

the divine sign never interrupted him in the course of his defence;

the reason of which, as he conjectures, is that the death to

which he is going is a good and not an evil. For either death is

a long sleep, the best of sleeps, or a journey to another world in

which the souls of the dead are gathered together, and in which

there may be a hope of seeing the heroes of old—in which, too, 41

there are just judges; and as all are immortal, there can be no

fear of any one suffering death for his opinions.

Nothing evil can happen to the good man either in life or death,

and his own death has been permitted by the gods, because it was

better for him to depart; and therefore he forgives his judges

because they have done him no harm, although they never meant

to do him any good.

He has a last request to make to them—that they will trouble 42

his sons as he has troubled them, if they appear to prefer riches

to virtue, or to think themselves something when they are

nothing.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: INTRODUCTION.]

‘Few persons will be found to wish that Socrates should have defended

himself otherwise,’—if, as we must add, his defence was that with which

Plato has provided him. But leaving this question, which does not admit

of a precise solution, we may go on to ask what was the impression which

Plato in the Apology intended to give of the character and conduct of

his master in the last great scene? Did he intend to represent him (1)

as employing sophistries; (2) as designedly irritating the judges? Or

are these sophistries to be regarded as belonging to the age in which he

lived and to his personal character, and this apparent haughtiness as

flowing from the natural elevation of his position?

For example, when he says that it is absurd to suppose that one man

is the corrupter and all the rest of the world the improvers of the

youth; or, when he argues that he never could have corrupted the men

with whom he had to live; or, when he proves his belief in the gods

because he believes in the sons of gods, is he serious or jesting? It

may be observed that these sophisms all occur in his cross-examination

of Meletus, who is easily foiled and mastered in the hands of the great

dialectician. Perhaps he regarded these answers as good enough for his

accuser, of whom he makes very light. Also there is a touch of irony in

them, which takes them out of the category of sophistry. (Cp. Euthyph. 2.)

That the manner in which he defends himself about the lives of his

disciples is not satisfactory, can hardly be denied. Fresh in the memory

of the Athenians, and detestable as they deserved to be to the newly

restored democracy, were the names of Alcibiades, Critias, Charmides. It

is obviously not a sufficient answer that Socrates had never professed

to teach them anything, and is therefore not justly chargeable with

their crimes. Yet the defence, when taken out of this ironical form, is

doubtless sound: that his teaching had nothing to do with their evil

lives. Here, then, the sophistry is rather in form than in substance,

though we might desire that to such a serious charge Socrates had given a