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INTRODUCTION
TO THE APOLOGY
by
Benjamin Jowett
I.
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 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, 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.); 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 may, perhaps, be adduced as a
further evidence of the literal accuracy of some parts. 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.
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.), as he is also said to have
been absent at the last scene in the Phaedo. 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),
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.
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. 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, 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
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.
II.
Part One: Main Defense Speech
The first part commences with an apology for his colloquial style; he
is, as he has always been, the enemy of rhetoric, and knows of no
rhetoric but truth; he will not falsify his character by making a
speech. Then he proceeds to divide his accusers into 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 (compare Xen. Mem.);
and the previous formula, which is a summary of public opinion, assumes
the same legal style.
The answer begins by clearing up a confusion. In the representations of
the Comic poets, and in the opinion of the multitude, 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. (Compare for Anaxagoras, Phaedo, Laws; for the Sophists,
Meno, Republic, Tim., Theaet., Soph., 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 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.
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 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 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
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 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?' (Compare Meno.) 'All men everywhere.' But how absurd, how
contrary to analogy is this! 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, 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 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, 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 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 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.
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 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 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 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
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.' 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.
III.
Part Two: Proposal of Counter-Penalty
As he expected, and probably intended, he is convicted. And 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
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
an evil, but then he has none to give; perhaps he can make up a mina.
Let that be the penalty, or, if his friends wish, thirty minae; for
which they will be excellent securities.
IV.
Part Three: Socrates' Final Address
(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 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.
He would like to say a few words, while there is time, to those 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, 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 his sons
as he has troubled them, if they appear to prefer riches to virtue, or
to think themselves something when they are nothing.
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