Plato's Apology

Translated by Hugh Tredennick from



I do not know what effect my accusers have had upon you, gentlemen, but for my own part I was
almost carried away by them--their arguments were so convincing. On the other hand, scarcely a
word of what they said was true. I was especially astonished at one of their many misrepresent-
ations; I mean when they told you that you must be careful not to let me deceive you--the im-
plication being that I am a skillful speaker. I thought that it was peculiarly brazen of them
to tell you this without a blush, since they must know that they will soon be effectively con-
futed, when it becomes obvious that I have not the slightest skill as a speaker--unless, of
course, by a skillful speaker they mean one who speaks the truth. If that is what they mean,
I would agree that I am an orator, though not after their pattern.

My accusers, then, as I maintain, have said little or nothing that is true, but from me you
shall hear the whole truth--not, I can assure you, gentlemen, in flowery language like theirs,
decked out with fine words and phrases. No, what you will hear will be a straightforward speech
in the first words that occur to me, confident as I am in the justice of my cause, and I do
not want any of you to expect anything different. It would hardly be suitable, gentlemen, for
a man of my age to address you in the artificial language of a schoolboy orator. One thing,
however, I do most earnestly beg and entreat of you. If you hear me defending myself in the
same language which it has been my habit to use, both in the open spaces of this city--where
many of you have heard me--and elsewhere, do not be surprised, and do not interrupt. Let me
remind you of my position. This is my first appearance in a court of law, at the age of sev-
enty, and so I am a complete stranger to the language of this place. Now if I were really
from another country, you would naturally excuse me if I spoke in the manner and dialect in
which I had been brought up, and so in the present case I make this request of you, which I
think is only reasonable, to disregard the manner of my speech--it may be better or it may
be worse--and to consider and concentrate your attention upon this one question, whether my
claims are fair or not. That is the first duty of the juryman, just as it is the pleader's
duty to speak the truth.

The proper course for me, gentlemen of the jury, is to deal first with the earliest charges
that have been falsely brought against me, and with my earliest accusers, and then with the
later ones. I make this distinction because I have already been accused in your hearing by a
great many people for a great many years, though without a word of truth, and I am more a-
fraid of those people than I am of Anytus and his colleagues, although they are formidable
enough. But the others are still more formidable. I mean the people who took hold of so many
of you when you were children and tried to fill your minds with untrue accusations against
me, saying, There is a wise man called Socrates who has theories about the heavens and has
investigated everything below the earth, and can make the weaker argument defeat the stronger.

It is these people, gentlemen, the disseminators of these rumors, who are my dangerous ac-
cusers, because those who hear them suppose that anyone who inquires into such matters must
be an atheist. Besides, there are a great many of these accusers, and they have been accusing
me now for a great many years. And what is more, they approached you at the most impression-
able age, when some of you were children or adolescents, and they literally won their case
by default, because there was no one to defend me. And the most fantastic thing of all is
that it is impossible for me even to know and tell you their names, unless one of them hap-
pens to be a playwright. All these people, who have tried to set you against me out of envy
and love of slander--and some too merely passing on what they have been told by others--all
these are very difficult to deal with. It is impossible to bring them here for cross-exam-
ination; one simply has to conduct one's defense and argue one's case against an invisible
opponent, because there is no one to answer. So I ask you to accept my statement that my
critics fall into two classes, on the one hand my immediate accusers, and on the other those
earlier ones whom I have mentioned, and you must suppose that I have first to defend myself
against the latter. After all, you heard them abusing me longer ago and much more violently
than these more recent accusers.

Very well, then, I must begin my defense, gentlemen, and I must try, in the short time that
I have, to rid your minds of a false impression which is the work of many years. I should
like this to be the result, gentlemen, assuming it to be for your advantage and my own; and
I should like to be successful in my defense, but I think that it will be difficult, and I am
quite aware of the nature of my task. However, let that turn out as God wills. I must obey
the law and make my defense.

Let us go back to the beginning and consider what the charge is that has made me so unpopular,
and has encouraged Meletus to draw up this indictment. Very well, what did my critics say in
attacking my character? I must read out their affidavit, so to speak, as though they were my
legal accusers: Socrates is guilty of criminal meddling, in that he inquires into things be-
low the earth and in the sky, and makes the weaker argument defeat the stronger, and teaches
others to follow his example. It runs something like that. You have seen it for yourselves
in the play by Aristophanes, where Socrates goes whirling round, proclaiming that he is walk-
ing on air, and uttering a great deal of other nonsense about things of which I know nothing
whatsoever. I mean no disrespect for such knowledge, if anyone really is versed in it--I do
not want any more lawsuits brought against me by Meletus--but the fact is, gentlemen, that I
take no interest in it. What is more, I call upon the greater part of you as witnesses to my
statement, and I appeal to all of you who have ever listened to me talking--and there are a
great many to whom this applies--to clear your neighbors' minds on this point. Tell one an-
other whether any one of you has ever heard me discuss such questions briefly or at length,
and then you will realize that the other popular reports about me are equally unreliable.

The fact is that there is nothing in any of these charges, and if you have heard anyone say
that I try to educate people and charge a fee, there is no truth in that either. I wish that
there were, because I think that it is a fine thing if a man is qualified to teach, as in
the case of Gorgias of Leontini and Prodicus of Ceos and Hippias of Elis. Each one of these
is perfectly capable of going into any city and actually persuading the young men to leave
the company of their fellow citizens, with any of whom they can associate for nothing, and
attach themselves to him, and pay money for the privilege, and be grateful into the bargain.

There is another expert too from Paros who I discovered was here on a visit; I happened to
meet a man who has paid more in Sophists' fees than all the rest put together--I mean Callias,
the son of Hipponicus. So I asked him--he has two sons, you see--Callias, I said, if your sons
had been colts or calves, we should have had no difficulty in finding and engaging a trainer
to perfect their natural qualities, and this trainer would have been some sort of horse deal-
er or agriculturalist. But seeing that they are human beings, whom do you intend to get as
their instructor? Who is the expert in perfecting the human and social qualities? I assume
from the fact of your having sons that you must have considered the question. Is there such
a person or not?

Certainly, said he.

Who is he, and where does he come from? said I. And what does he charge?

Evenus of Paros, Socrates, said he, and his fee is five minas.

I felt that Evenus was to be congratulated if he really was a master of this art and taught
it at such a moderate fee. I should certainly plume myself and give myself airs if I under-
stood these things, but in fact, gentlemen, I do not.

Here perhaps one of you might interrupt me and say, But what is it that you do, Socrates? How
is it that you have been misrepresented like this? Surely all this talk and gossip about you
would never have arisen if you had confined yourself to ordinary activities, but only if your
behavior was abnormal. Tell us the explanation, if you do not want us to invent it for our-
selves.

This seems to me to be a reasonable request, and I will try to explain to you what it is that
has given me this false notoriety. So please give me your attention. Perhaps some of you will
think that I am not being serious, but I assure you that I am going to tell you the whole
truth.

I have gained this reputation, gentlemen, from nothing more or less than a kind of wisdom.
What kind of wisdom do I mean? Human wisdom, I suppose. It seems that I really am wise in
this limited sense. Presumably the geniuses whom I mentioned just now are wise in a wisdom
that is more than human. I do not know how else to account for it. I certainly have no know-
ledge of such wisdom, and anyone who says that I have is a liar and willful slanderer. Now,
gentlemen, please do not interrupt me if I seem to make an extravagant claim, for what I am
going to tell you is not my own opinion. I am going to refer you to an unimpeachable autho-
rity. I shall call as witness to my wisdom, such as it is, the god at Delphi.

You know Chaerephon, of course. He was a friend of mine from boyhood, and a good democrat
who played his part with the rest of you in the recent expulsion and restoration. And you
know what he was like, how enthusiastic he was over anything that he had once undertaken.
Well, one day he actually went to Delphi and asked this question of the god--as I said be-
fore, gentlemen, please do not interrupt--he asked whether there was anyone wiser than my-
self. The priestess replied that there was no one. As Chaerephon is dead, the evidence for
my statement will be supplied by his brother, who is here in court.

Please consider my object in telling you this. I want to explain to you how the attack upon
my reputation first started. When I heard about the oracle's answer, I said to myself, What
does the god mean? Why does he not use plain language? I am only too conscious that I have
no claim to wisdom, great or small. So what can he mean by asserting that I am the wisest
man in the world? He cannot be telling a lie; that would not be right for him.

After puzzling about it for some time, I set myself at last with considerable reluctance to
check the truth of it in the following way. I went to interview a man with a high reputation
for wisdom, because I felt that here if anywhere I should succeed in disproving the oracle
and pointing out to my divine authority, You said that I was the wisest of men, but here is
a man who is wiser than I am.

Well, I gave a thorough examination to this person--I need not mention his name, but it was
one of our politicians that I was studying when I had this experience--and in conversation
with him I formed the impression that although in many people's opinion, and especially in
his own, he appeared to be wise, in fact he was not. Then when I began to try to show him
that he only thought he was wise and was not really so, my efforts were resented both by him
and by many of the other people present. However, I reflected as I walked away, Well, I am
certainly wiser than this man. It is only too likely that neither of us has any knowledge to
boast of, but he thinks that he knows something which he does not know, whereas I am quite
conscious of my ignorance. At any rate it seems that I am wiser than he is to this small ex-
tent, that I do not think that I know what I do not know.

After this I went on to interview a man with an even greater reputation for wisdom, and I
formed the same impression again, and here too I incurred the resentment of the man himself
and a number of others.

From that time on I interviewed one person after another. I realized with distress and alarm
that I was making myself unpopular, but I felt compelled to put my religious duty first.
Since I was trying to find out the meaning of the oracle, I was bound to interview everyone
who had a reputation for knowledge. And by dog, gentlemen, for I must be frank with you, my
honest impression was this. It seemed to me, as I pursued my investigation at the god's com-
mand, that the people with the greatest reputations were almost entirely deficient, while o-
thers who were supposed to be their inferiors were much better qualified in practical intel-
ligence.

I want you to think of my adventures as a sort of pilgrimage undertaken to establish the
truth of the oracle once for all. After I had finished with the politicians I turned to the
poets, dramatic, lyric, and all the rest, in the belief that here I should expose myself as
comparative ignoramus. I used to pick up what I thought were some of their most perfect works
and question them closely about the meaning of what they had written, in the hope of inci-
dentally enlarging my own knowledge. Well, gentlemen, I hesitate to tell you the truth, but
it must be told. It is hardly an exaggeration to say that any of the bystanders could have
explained those poems better than their actual authors. So I soon made up my mind about the
poets too. I decided that it was not wisdom that enabled them to write their poetry, but a
kind of instinct or inspiration, such as you find in seers and prophets who deliver all their
sublime messages without knowing in the least what they mean. It seemed clear to me that the
poets were in much the same case, and I also observed that the very fact that they were poets
made them think that they had a perfect understanding of all other subjects, of which they
were totally ignorant. So I left that line of inquiry too with the same sense of advantage
that I had felt in the case of the politicians.

Last of all I turned to the skilled craftsmen. I knew quite well that I had practically no
technical qualifications myself, and I was sure that I should find them full of impressive
knowledge. In this I was not disappointed. They understood things which I did not, and to
that extent they were wiser than I was. But, gentlemen, these professional experts seemed to
share the same failing which I had noticed in the poets. I mean that on the strength of their
technical proficiency they claimed a perfect understanding of every other subject, however
important, and I felt that this error more than outweighed their positive wisdom. So I made
myself spokesman for the oracle, and asked myself whether I would rather be as I was--nei-
ther wise with their wisdom nor stupid with their stupidity--or possess both qualities as
they did. I replied through myself to the oracle that it was best for me to be as I was.

The effect of these investigations of mine, gentlemen, has been to arouse against me a
great deal of hostility, and hostility of a particularly bitter and persistent kind, which has re-
sulted in various malicious suggestions, including the description of me as a professor of
wisdom. This is due to the fact that whenever I succeed in disproving another person's claim
to wisdom in a given subject, the bystanders assume that I know everything about that sub-
ject myself. But the truth of the matter, gentlemen, is pretty certainly this, that real
wisdom is the property of God, and this oracle is his way of telling us that human wisdom
has little or no value. It seems to me that he is not referring literally to Socrates, but
has merely taken my name as an example, as if he would say to us, The wisest of you men
is he who has realized, like Socrates, that in respect of wisdom he is really worthless.

That is why I still go about seeking and searching in obedience to the divine command, if
I think that anyone is wise, whether citizen or stranger, and when I think that any person
is not wise, I try to help the cause of God by proving that he is not. This occupation has
kept me too busy to do much either in politics or in my own affairs. In fact, my service
to God has reduced me to extreme poverty.

There is another reason for my being unpopular. A number of young men with wealthy fathers
and plenty of leisure have deliberately attached themselves to me because they enjoy hear-
ing other people cross-questioned. These often take me as their model, and go on to try to
question other persons. Whereupon, I suppose, they find an unlimited number of people who
think that they know something, but really know little or nothing. Consequently their vic-
tims become annoyed, not with themselves but with me, and they complain that there is a
pestilential busybody called Socrates who fills young people's heads with wrong ideas. If
you ask them what he does, and what he teaches that has this effect, they have no answer,
not knowing what to say. But as they do not want to admit their confusion, they fall back
on the stock charges against any philosopher, that he teaches his pupils about things in
the heavens and below the earth, and to disbelieve in gods, and to make the weaker argu-
ment defeat the stronger. They would be very loath, I fancy, to admit the truth--which is
that they are being convicted of pretending to knowledge when they are entirely ignorant.
So, jealous, I suppose, for their own reputation, and also energetic and numerically
strong, and provided with a plausible and carefully worked-out case against me, these pe-
ople have been dinning into your ears for a long time past their violent denunciations of
myself.

There you have the causes which led to the attack upon me by Meletus and Anytus and Lycon,
Meletus being aggrieved on behalf of the poets, Anytus on behalf of the professional men
and politicians, and Lycon on behalf of the orators. So, as I said at the beginning, I
should be surprised if I were able, in the short time that I have, to rid your minds of
a misconception so deeply implanted.

There, gentlemen, you have the true facts, which I present to you without any concealment
or suppression, great or small. I am fairly certain that this plain speaking of mine is
the cause of my unpopularity, and this really goes to prove that my statements are true,
and that I have described correctly the nature and the grounds of the calumny which has
been brought against me. Whether you inquire into them now or later, you will find the
facts as I have just described them.

So much for my defense against the charges brought by the first group of my accusers. I
shall now try to defend myself against Meletus--high-principled and patriotic as he
claims to be--and after that against the rest.

Let us first consider their deposition again, as though it represented a fresh prose-
cution. It runs something like this: Socrates is guilty of corrupting the minds of the
young, and of believing in deities of his own invention instead of the gods recognized
by the state Such is the charge. Let us examine its points one by one.

First it says that I am guilty of corrupting the young. But I say, gentlemen, that Mel-
etus is guilty of treating a serious matter with levity, since he summons people to
stand their trial on frivolous grounds, and professes concern and keen anxiety in mat-
ters about which he has never had the slightest interest. I will try to prove this to
your satisfaction.

Come now, Meletus, tell me this. You regard it as supremely important, do you not, that
our young people should be exposed to the best possible influence?

I do.

Very well, then, tell these gentlemen who it is that influences the young for the better.
Obviously you must know, if you are so much interested. You have discovered the vicious
influence, as you say, in myself, and you are now prosecuting me before these gentlemen.
Speak up and inform them who it is that has a good influence upon the young....You see,
Meletus, that you are tongue-tied and cannot answer. Do you not feel that this is dis-
creditable, and a sufficient proof in itself of what I said, that you have no interest
in the subject? Tell me, my friend, who is it that makes the young good?

The laws.

That is not what I mean, my dear sir. I am asking you to name the person whose first
business it is to know the laws.

These gentlemen here, Socrates, the members of the jury.

Do you mean, Meletus, that they have the ability to educate the young, and to make them
better?

Certainly.

Does this apply to all jurymen, or only to some?

To all of them.

Excellent! A generous supply of benefactors. Well, then, do these spectators who are
present in court have an improving influence, or not?

Yes, they do.

And what about the members of the Council?

Yes, the councilors too.

But surely, Meletus, the members of the Assembly do not corrupt the young? Or do all
of them too exert an improving influence?

Yes, they do.

Then it would seem that the whole population of Athens has a refining effect upon the
young, except myself, and I alone demoralize them. Is that your meaning?

Most emphatically, yes.

This is certainly a most unfortunate quality that you have detected in me. Well, let me
put another question to you. Take the case of horses. Do you believe that those who im-
prove them make up the whole of mankind, and that there is only one person who has a bad
effect on them? Or is the truth just the opposite, that the ability to improve them be-
longs to one person or to very few persons, who are horse trainers, whereas most people,
if they have to do with horses and make use of them, do them harm? Is not this the case,
Meletus, both with horses and with all other animals? Of course it is, whether you and
Anytus deny it or not. It would be a singular dispensation of fortune for our young peo-
ple if there is only one person who corrupts them, while all the rest have a beneficial
effect. But I need say no more. There is ample proof, Meletus, that you have never both-
ered your head about the young, and you make it perfectly clear that you have never ta-
ken the slightest interest in the cause for the sake of which you are now indicting me.

Here is another point. Tell me seriously, Meletus, is it better to live in a good or in
a bad community? Answer my question, like a good fellow; there is nothing difficult about
it. Is it not true that wicked people have a bad effect upon those with whom they are in
the closest contact, and that good people have a good effect?

Quite true.

Is there anyone who prefers to be harmed rather than benefited by his associates? Answer
me, my good man; the law commands you to answer. Is there anyone who prefers to be harmed?

Of course not.

Well, then, when you summon me before this court for corrupting the young and making
their characters worse, do you mean that I do so intentionally or unintentionally?

I mean intentionally.

Why, Meletus, are you at your age so much wiser than I at mine? You have discovered that
bad people always have a bad effect, and good people a good effect, upon their nearest
neighbors. Am I so hopelessly ignorant as not even to realize that by spoiling the char-
acter of one of my companions I shall run the risk of getting some harm from him? Because
nothing else would make me commit this grave offense intentionally. No, I do not believe
it, Meletus, and I do not suppose that anyone else does. Either I have not a bad influ-
ence, or it is unintentional, so that in either case your accusation is false. And if I
unintentionally have a bad influence, the correct procedure in cases of such involuntary
misdemeanors is not to summon the culprit before this court, but to take him aside pri-
vately for instruction and reproof, because obviously if my eyes are opened, I shall
stop doing what I do not intend to do. But you deliberately avoided my company in the
past and refused to enlighten me, and now you bring me before this court, which is the
place appointed for those who need punishment, not for those who need enlightenment.

It is quite clear by now, gentlemen, that Meletus, as I said before, has never shown any
degree of interest in this subject. However, I invite you to tell us, Meletus, in what
sense you make out that I corrupt the minds of the young. Surely the terms of your in-
dictment make it clear that you accuse me of teaching them to believe in new deities in-
stead of the gods recognized by the state. Is not that the teaching of mine which you
say has this demoralizing effect?

That is precisely what I maintain.

Then I appeal to you, Meletus, in the name of these same gods about whom we are speak-
ing, to explain yourself a little more clearly to myself and to the jury, because I can-
not make out what your point is. Is it that I teach people to believe in some gods--
which implies that I myself believe in gods, and am not a complete atheist, so that I
am not guilty on that score--but in different gods from those recognized by the state,
so that your accusation rests upon the fact that they are different? Or do you assert
that I believe in no gods at all, and teach others to do the same?

Yes, I say that you disbelieve in gods altogether.

You surprise me, Meletus. What is your object in saying that? Do you suggest that I do
not believe that the sun and moon are gods, as is the general belief of all mankind?

He certainly does not, gentlemen of the jury, since he says that the sun is a stone
and the moon a mass of earth.

Do you imagine that you are prosecuting Anaxagoras, my dear Meletus? Have you so poor
an opinion of these gentlemen, and do you assume them to be so illiterate as not to
know that the writings of Anaxagoras of Clazomenae are full of theories like these?
And do you seriously suggest that it is from me that the young get these ideas, when
they can buy them on occasion in the market place for a drachma at most, and so have
the laugh on Socrates if he claims them for his own, to say nothing of their being
so silly? Tell me honestly, Meletus, is that your opinion of me? Do I believe in no
god?

No, none at all, not in the slightest degree.

You are not at all convincing, Meletus--not even to yourself, I suspect. In my opin-
ion, gentlemen, this man is a thoroughly selfish bully, and has brought this action
against me out of sheer wanton aggressiveness and self-assertion. He seems to be
devising a sort of intelligence test for me, saying to himself, Will the infallible
Socrates realize that I am contradicting myself for my own amusement, or shall I
succeed in deceiving him and the rest of my audience?

It certainly seems to me that he is contradicting himself in this indictment, which
might just as well run: Socrates is guilty of not believing in the gods, but believ-
ing in the gods. And this is pure flippancy.

I ask you to examine with me, gentlemen, the line of reasoning which leads me to this
conclusion. You, Meletus, will oblige us by answering my questions. Will you all kindly
remember, as I requested at the beginning, not to interrupt if I conduct the discus-
sion in my customary way?

Is there anyone in the world, Meletus, who believes in human activities, and not in
human beings? Make him answer, gentlemen, and don't let him keep on making these con-
tinual objections. Is there anyone who does not believe in horses, but believes in
horses' activities? Or who does not believe in musicians, but believes in musical act-
ivities? No, there is not, my worthy friend. If you do not want to answer, I will sup-
ply it for you and for these gentlemen too. But the next question you must answer. Is
there anyone who believes in supernatural activities and not in supernatural beings?

No.

How good of you to give a bare answer under compulsion by the court! Well, do you as-
sert that I believe and teach others to believe in supernatural activities? It does
not matter whether they are new or old. The fact remains that I believe in them accor-
ding to your statement; indeed you solemnly swore as much in your affidavit. But if
I believe in supernatural activities, it follows inevitably that I also believe in
supernatural beings. Is not that so? It is. I assume your assent, since you do not
answer. Do we not hold that supernatural beings are either gods or the children of
gods? Do you agree or not?

Certainly.

Then if I believe in supernatural beings, as you assert, if these supernatural beings
are gods in any sense, we shall reach the conclusion which I mentioned just now when
I said that you were testing my intelligence for your own amusement, by stating first
that I do not believe in gods, and then again that I do, since I believe in super-
natural beings. If on the other hand these supernatural beings are bastard children
of the gods by nymphs or other mothers, as they are reputed to be, who in the world
would believe in the children of gods and not in the gods themselves? It would be as
ridiculous as to believe in the young of horses or donkeys and not in horses and don-
keys themselves. No, Meletus, there is no avoiding the conclusion that you brought
this charge against me as a test of my wisdom, or else in despair of finding a genu-
ine offense of which to accuse me. As for your prospect of convincing any living per-
son with even a smattering of intelligence that belief in supernatural and divine
activities does not imply belief in supernatural and divine beings, and vice versa,
it is outside all the bounds of possibility.

As a matter of fact, gentlemen, I do not feel that it requires much defense to clear
myself of Meletus' accusation. What I have said already is enough. But you know very
well the truth of what I said in an earlier part of my speech, that I have incurred
a great deal of bitter hostility, and this is what will bring about my destruction,
if anything does--not Meletus nor Anytus, but the slander and jealousy of a very
large section of the people. They have been fatal to a great many other innocent
men, and I suppose will continue to be so; there is no likelihood that they will
stop at me.

But perhaps someone will say, Do you feel no compunction, Socrates, at having foll-
owed a line of action which puts you in danger of the death penalty?

I might fairly reply to him, You are mistaken, my friend, if you think that a man
who is worth anything ought to spend his time weighing up the prospects of life and
death. He has only one thing to consider in performing any action--that is, whether
he is acting rightly or wrongly, like a good man or a bad one. On your view the her-
oes who died at Troy would be poor creatures, especially the son of Thetis. He, if
you remember, made light of danger in comparison with incurring dishonor when his
goddess mother warned him, eager as he was to kill Hector, in some such words as
these, I fancy: My son, if you avenge your comrade Patroclus' death and kill Hector,
you will die yourself--'Next after Hector is thy fate prepared.' When he heard this
warning, he made light of his death and danger, being much more afraid of an ignoble
life and of failing to avenge his friends. 'Let me die forthwith,' said he, 'when I
have requited the villain, rather than remain here by the beaked ships to be mocked,
a burden on the ground.' Do you suppose that he gave a thought to death and danger?

The truth of the matter is this, gentlemen. Where a man has once taken up his stand,
either because it seems best to him or in obedience to his orders, there I believe
he is bound to remain and face the danger, taking no account of death or anything
else before dishonor.

This being so, it would be shocking inconsistency on my part, gentlemen, if, when the
officers whom you chose to command me assigned me my position at Potidaea and Amphipo-
lis and Delium, I remained at my post like anyone else and faced death, and yet after-
ward, when God appointed me, as I supposed and believed, to the duty of leading the
philosophical life, examining myself and others, I were then through fear of death or
of any other danger to desert my post. That would indeed be shocking, and then I might
really with justice be summoned into court for not believing in the gods, and disobey-
ing the oracle, and being afraid of death, and thinking that I am wise when I am not.
For let me tell you, gentlemen, that to be afraid of death is only another form of
thinking that one is wise when one is not; it is to think that one knows what one does
not know. No one knows with regard to death whether it is not really the greatest bless-
ing that can happen to a man, but people dread it as though they were certain that it
is the greatest evil, and this ignorance, which thinks that it knows what it does not,
must surely be ignorance most culpable. This, I take it, gentlemen, is the degree, and
this the nature of my advantage over the rest of mankind, and if I were to claim to be
wiser than my neighbor in any respect, it would be in this-- that not possessing any
real knowledge of what comes after death, I am also conscious that I do not possess it.
But I do know that to do wrong and to disobey my superior, whether God or man, is wicked
and dishonorable, and so I shall never feel more fear or aversion for something which,
for all I know, may really be a blessing, than for those evils which I know to be evils.

Suppose, then, that you acquit me, and pay no attention to Anytus, who has said that
either I should not have appeared before this court at all, or, since I have appeared
here, I must be put to death, because if I once escaped your sons would all immediately
become utterly demoralized by putting the teaching of Socrates into practice. Suppose
that, in view of this, you said to me, Socrates, on this occasion we shall disregard
Anytus and acquit you, but only on one condition, that you give up spending your time
on this quest and stop philosophizing. If we catch you going on in the same way, you
shall be put to death.

Well, supposing, as I said, that you should offer to acquit me on these terms, I should
reply, Gentlemen, I am your very grateful and devoted servant, but I owe a greater obe-
dience to God than to you, and so long as I draw breath and have my faculties, I shall
never stop practicing philosophy and exhorting you and elucidating the truth for every-
one that I meet. I shall go on saying, in my usual way, My very good friend, you are an
Athenian and belong to a city which is the greatest and most famous in the world for
its wisdom and strength. Are you not ashamed that you give your attention to acquiring
as much money as possible, and similarly with reputation and honor, and give no atten-
tion or thought to truth and understanding and the perfection of your soul?

And if any of you disputes this and professes to care about these things, I shall not at
once let him go or leave him. No, I shall question him and examine him and test him; and
if it appears that in spite of his profession he has made no real progress toward good-
ness, I shall reprove him for neglecting what is of supreme importance, and giving his
attention to trivialities. I shall do this to everyone that I meet, young or old, for-
eigner or fellow citizen, but especially to you, my fellow citizens, inasmuch as you are
closer to me in kinship. This, I do assure you, is what my God commands, and it is my
belief that no greater good has ever befallen you in this city than my service to my God.
For I spend all my time going about trying to persuade you, young and old, to make your
first and chief concern not for your bodies nor for your possessions, but for the high-
est welfare of your souls, proclaiming as I go, Wealth does not bring goodness, but
goodness brings wealth and every other blessing, both to the individual and to the state.

Now if I corrupt the young by this message, the message would seem to be harmful, but
if anyone says that my message is different from this, he is talking nonsense. And so,
gentlemen, I would say, You can please yourselves whether you listen to Anytus or not,
and whether you acquit me or not. You know that I am not going to alter my conduct, not
even if I have to die a hundred deaths.

Order, please, gentlemen! Remember my request to give me a hearing without interruption.
Besides, I believe that it will be to your advantage to listen. I am going to tell you
something else, which may provoke a storm of protest, but please restrain yourselves. I
assure you that if I am what I claim to be, and you put me to death, you will harm your-
selves more than me. Neither Meletus nor Anytus can do me any harm at all; they would
not have the power, because I do not believe that the law of God permits a better man to
be harmed by a worse. No doubt my accuser might put me to death or have me banished or
deprived of civic rights, but even if he thinks--as he probably does, and others too, I
dare say--that these are great calamities, I do not think so. I believe that it is far
worse to do what he is doing now, trying to put an innocent man to death.

For this reason, gentlemen, so far from pleading on my own behalf, as might be supposed,
I am really pleading on yours, to save you from misusing the gift of God by condemning
me. If you put me to death, you will not easily find anyone to take my place. It is lit-
erally true, even if it sounds rather comical, that God has specially appointed me to
this city, as though it were a large thoroughbred horse which because of its great size
is inclined to be lazy and needs the stimulation of some stinging fly. It seems to me
that God has attached me to this city to perform the office of such a fly, and all day
long I never cease to settle here, there, and everywhere, rousing, persuading, reproving
every one of you. You will not easily find another like me, gentlemen, and if you take
my advice you will spare my life. I suspect, however, that before long you will awake
from your drowsing, and in your annoyance you will take Anytus' advice and finish me off
with a single slap, and then you will go on sleeping till the end of your days, unless
God in his care for you sends someone to take my place.

If you doubt whether I am really the sort of person who would have been sent to this city
as a gift from God, you can convince yourselves by looking at it in this way. Does it
seem natural that I should have neglected my own affairs and endured the humiliation of
allowing my family to be neglected for all these years, while I busied myself all the
time on your behalf, going like a father or an elder brother to see each one of you pri-
vately, and urging you to set your thoughts on goodness? If I had got any enjoyment from
it, or if I had been paid for my good advice, there would have been some explanation for
my conduct, but as it is you can see for yourselves that although my accusers unblushing-
ly charge me with all sorts of other crimes, there is one thing that they have not had
the impudence to pretend on any testimony, and that is that I have ever exacted or asked
a fee from anyone. The witness that I can offer to prove the truth of my statement is,
I think, a convincing one--my poverty.

It may seem curious that I should go round giving advice like this and busying myself in
people's private affairs, and yet never venture publicly to address you as a whole and
advise on matters of state. The reason for this is what you have often heard me say be-
fore on many other occasions--that I am subject to a divine or supernatural experience,
which Meletus saw fit to travesty in his indictment. It began in my early childhood--a
sort of voice which comes to me, and when it comes it always dissuades me from what I
am proposing to do, and never urges me on. It is this that debars me from entering pub-
lic life, and a very good thing too, in my opinion, because you may be quite sure, gen-
tlemen, that if I had tried long ago to engage in politics, I should long ago have lost
my life, without doing any good either to you or to myself. Please do not be offended
if I tell you the truth. No man on earth who conscientiously opposes either you or any
other organized democracy, and flatly prevents a great many wrongs and illegalities
from taking place in the state to which he belongs, can possibly escape with his life.
The true champion of justice, if he intends to survive even for a short time, must nec-
essarily confine himself to private life and leave politics alone.

I will offer you substantial proofs of what I have said--not theories, but what you can
appreciate better, facts. Listen while I describe my actual experiences, so that you may
know that I would never submit wrongly to any authority through fear of death, but would
refuse even at the cost of my life. It will be a commonplace story, such as you often
hear in the courts, but it is true.

The only office which I have ever held in our city, gentlemen, was when I was elected
to the Council. It so happened that our group was acting as the executive when you de-
cided that the ten commanders who had failed to rescue the men who were lost in the
naval engagement should be tried en bloc, which was illegal, as you all recognized lat-
er. On this occasion I was the only member of the executive who insisted that you
should not act unconstitutionally, and voted against the proposal; and although your
leaders were all ready to denounce and arrest me, and you were all urging them on at
the top of your voices, I thought that it was my duty to face it out on the side of
law and justice rather than support you, through fear of prison or death, in your wrong
decision.

This happened while we were still under a democracy. When the oligarchy came into power,
the Thirty Commissioners in their turn summoned me and four others to the Round Chamber
and instructed us to go and fetch Leon of Salamis from his home for execution. This was
of course only one of many instances in which they issued such instructions, their ob-
ject being to implicate as many people as possible in their wickedness. On this occas-
ion, however, I again made it clear not by my words but by my actions that death did
not matter to me at all--if that is not too strong an expression--but that it mattered
all the world to me that I should do nothing wrong or wicked. Powerful as it was, that
government did not terrify me into doing a wrong action. When we came out of the Round
Chamber, the other four went off to Salamis and arrested Leon, and I went home. I should
probably have been put to death for this, if the government had not fallen soon after-
ward. There are plenty of people who will testify to these statements.

Do you suppose that I should have lived as long as I have if I had moved in the sphere
of public life, and conducting myself in that sphere like an honorable man, had always
upheld the cause of right, and conscientiously set this end above all other things? Not
by a very long way, gentlemen; neither would any other man. You will find that through-
out my life I have been consistent in any public duties that I have performed, and the
same also in my personal dealings. I have never countenanced any action that was incom-
patible with justice on the part of any person, including those whom some people malic-
iously call my pupils. I have never set up as any man's teacher, but if anyone, young
or old, is eager to hear me conversing and carrying out my private mission, I never
grudge him the opportunity; nor do I charge a fee for talking to him, and refuse to talk
without one. I am ready to answer questions for rich and poor alike, and I am equally
ready if anyone prefers to listen to me and answer my questions. If any given one of
these people becomes a good citizen or a bad one, I cannot fairly be held responsible,
since I have never promised or imparted any teaching to anybody, and if anyone asserts
that he has ever learned or heard from me privately anything which was not open to ever-
yone else, you may be quite sure that he is not telling the truth.

But how is it that some people enjoy spending a great deal of time in my company? You
have heard the reason, gentlemen; I told you quite frankly. It is because they enjoy
hearing me examine those who think that they are wise when they are not--an experience
which has its amusing side. This duty I have accepted, as I said, in obedience to God's
commands given in oracles and dreams and in every other way that any other divine dis-
pensation has ever impressed a duty upon man. This is a true statement, gentlemen, and
easy to verify. If it is a fact that I am in process of corrupting some of the young,
and have succeeded already in corrupting others, and if it were a fact that some of the
latter, being now grown up, had discovered that I had ever given them bad advice when
they were young, surely they ought now to be coming forward to denounce and punish me.
And if they did not like to do it themselves, you would expect some of their families--
their fathers and brothers and other near relations--to remember it now, if their own
flesh and blood had suffered any harm from me. Certainly a great many of them have found
their way into this court, as I can see for myself--first Crito over there, my contempo-
rary and near neighbor, the father of this young man Critobulus, and then Lysanias of
Sphettus, the father of Aeschines here, and next Antiphon of Cephisus, over there, the
father of Epigenes. Then besides there are all those whose brothers have been members
of our circle--Nicostratus, the son of Theozotides, the brother of Theodotus, but Theo-
dotus is dead, so he cannot appeal to his brother, and Paralus here, the son of Demodo-
cus, whose brother was Theages. And here is Adimantus, the son of Ariston, whose brother
Plato is over there, and Aeantodorus, whose brother Apollodorus is here on this side.
I can name many more besides, some of whom Meletus most certainly ought to have produc-
ed as witnesses in the course of his speech. If he forgot to do so then, let him do it
now--I am willing to make way for him. Let him state whether he has any such evidence
to offer. On the contrary, gentlemen, you will find that they are all prepared to help
me--the corrupter and evil genius of their nearest and dearest relatives, as Meletus
and Anytus say. The actual victims of my corrupting influence might perhaps be excused
for helping me; but as for the uncorrupted, their relations of mature age, what other
reason can they have for helping me except the right and proper one, that they know
Meletus is lying and I am telling the truth?

There, gentlemen, that, and perhaps a little more to the same effect, is the substance
of what I can say in my defense. It may be that some one of you, remembering his own
case, will be annoyed that whereas he, in standing his trial upon a less serious charge
than this, made pitiful appeals to the jury with floods of tears, and had his infant
children produced in court to excite the maximum of sympathy, and many of his relatives
and friends as well, I on the contrary intend to do nothing of the sort, and that, al-
though I am facing, as it might appear, the utmost danger. It may be that one of you,
reflecting on these facts, will be prejudiced against me, and being irritated by his
reflections, will give his vote in anger. If one of you is so disposed--I do not expect
it, but there is the possibility--I think that I should be quite justified in saying to
him, My dear sir, of course I have some relatives. To quote the very words of Homer, e-
ven I am not sprung 'from an oak or from a rock,' but from human parents, and conse-
quently I have relatives--yes, and sons too, gentlemen, three of them, one almost grown
up and the other two only children--but all the same I am not going to produce them here
and beseech you to acquit me.

Why do I not intend to do anything of this kind? Not out of perversity, gentlemen, nor
out of contempt for you; whether I am brave or not in the face of death has nothing to
do with it. The point is that for my own credit and yours and for the credit of the state
as a whole, I do not think that it is right for me to use any of these methods at my age
and with my reputation--which may be true or it may be false, but at any rate the view
is held that Socrates is different from the common run of mankind. Now if those of you
who are supposed to be distinguished for wisdom or courage or any other virtue are to be-
have in this way, it would be a disgrace. I have often noticed that some people of this
type, for all their high standing, go to extraordinary lengths when they come up for
trial, which shows that they think it will be a dreadful thing to lose their lives--as
though they would be immortal if you did not put them to death! In my opinion these peo-
ple bring disgrace upon our city. Any of our visitors might be excused for thinking that
the finest specimens of Athenian manhood, whom their fellow citizens select on their mer-
its to rule over them and hold other high positions, are no better than women. If you
have even the smallest reputation, gentlemen, you ought not to descend to these methods;
and if we do so, you must not give us license. On the contrary, you must make it clear
that anyone who stages these pathetic scenes and so brings ridicule upon our city is far
more likely to be condemned than if he kept perfectly quiet.

But apart from all question of appearances, gentlemen, I do not think that it is right
for a man to appeal to the jury or to get himself acquitted by doing so; he ought to in-
form them of the facts and convince them by argument. The jury does not sit to dispense
justice as a favor, but to decide where justice lies, and the oath which they have sworn
is not to show favor at their own discretion, but to return a just and lawful verdict.
It follows that we must not develop in you, nor you allow to grow in yourselves, the ha-
bit of perjury; that would be sinful for us both. Therefore you must not expect me, gen-
tlemen, to behave toward you in a way which I consider neither reputable nor moral nor
consistent with my religious duty, and above all you must not expect it when I stand
charged with impiety by Meletus here. Surely it is obvious that if I tried to persuade
you and prevail upon you by my entreaties to go against your solemn oath, I should be
teaching you contempt for religion, and by my very defense I should be accusing myself
of having no religious belief. But that is very far from the truth. I have a more sin-
cere belief, gentlemen, than any of my accusers, and I leave it to you and to God to
judge me as it shall be best for me and for yourselves.

There are a great many reasons, gentlemen, why I am not distressed by this result--I mean
your condemnation of me--but the chief reason is that the result was not unexpected. What
does surprise me is the number of votes cast on the two sides. I should never have be-
lieved that it would be such a close thing, but now it seems that if a mere thirty votes
had gone the other way, I should have been acquitted. Even as it is, I feel that so far
as Meletus' part is concerned I have been acquitted, and not only that, but anyone can
see that if Anytus and Lycon had not come forward to accuse me, Meletus would actually
have forfeited his one thousand drachmas for not having obtained one fifth of the votes.

[Socrates Discusses His Penalty]

However, we must face the fact that he demands the death penalty. Very good. What al-
ternative penalty shall I propose to you, gentlemen? Obviously it must be adequate.
Well, what penalty do I deserve to pay or suffer, in view of what I have done?

I have never lived an ordinary quiet life. I did not care for the things that most peo-
ple care about--making money, having a comfortable home, high military or civil rank,
and all the other activities, political appointments, secret societies, party organiza-
tions, which go on in our city. I thought that I was really too strict in my principles
to survive if I went in for this sort of thing. So instead of taking a course which
would have done no good either to you or to me, I set myself to do you individually in
private what I hold to be the greatest possible service. I tried to persuade each one
of you not to think more of practical advantages than of his mental and moral well-be-
ing, or in general to think more of advantage than of well-being in the case of the
state or of anything else. What do I deserve for behaving in this way? Some reward,
gentlemen, if I am bound to suggest what I really deserve, and what is more, a reward
which would be appropriate for myself. Well, what is appropriate for a poor man who is
a public benefactor and who requires leisure for giving you moral encouragement? No-
thing could be more appropriate for such a person than free maintenance at the state's
expense. He deserves it much more than any victor in the races at Olympia, whether he
wins with a single horse or a pair or a team of four. These people give you the sem-
blance of success, but I give you the reality; they do not need maintenance, but I do.
So if I am to suggest an appropriate penalty which is strictly in accordance with jus-
tice, I suggest free maintenance by the state.

Perhaps when I say this I may give you the impression, as I did in my remarks about
exciting sympathy and making passionate appeals, that I am showing a deliberate per-
versity. That is not so, gentlemen. The real position is this. I am convinced that I
never wrong anyone intentionally, but I cannot convince you of this, because we have
had so little time for discussion. If it was your practice, as it is with other nat-
ions, to give not one day but several to the hearing of capital trials, I believe
that you might have been convinced, but under present conditions it is not easy to
dispose of grave allegations in a short space of time. So, being convinced that I do
no wrong to anybody, I can hardly be expected to wrong myself by asserting that I de-
serve something bad, or by proposing a corresponding penalty. Why should I? For fear
of suffering this penalty proposed by Meletus, when, as I said, I do not know whether
it is a good thing or a bad? Do you expect me to choose something which I know very
well is bad by making my counterproposal? Imprisonment? Why should I spend my days
in prison, in subjection to the periodically appointed officers of the law? A fine,
with imprisonment until it is paid? In my case the effect would be just the same, be-
cause I have no money to pay a fine. Or shall I suggest banishment? You would very
likely accept the suggestion.

I should have to be desperately in love with life to do that, gentlemen. I am not so
blind that I cannot see that you, my fellow citizens, have come to the end of your
patience with my discussions and conversations. You have found them too irksome and
irritating, and now you are trying to get rid of them. Will any other people find them
easy to put up with? That is most unlikely, gentlemen. A fine life I should have if I
left this country at my age and spent the rest of my days trying one city after anoth-
er and being turned out every time! I know very well that wherever I go the young peo-
ple will listen to my conversation just as they do here, and if I try to keep them
off, they will make their elders drive me out, while if I do not, the fathers and
other relatives will drive me out of their own accord for the sake of the young.

Perhaps someone may say, But surely, Socrates, after you have left us you can spend
the rest of your life in quietly minding your own business.

This is the hardest thing of all to make some of you understand. If I say that this
would be disobedience to God, and that is why I cannot 'mind my own business,' you
will not believe that I am serious. If on the other hand I tell you that to let no
day pass without discussing goodness and all the other subjects about which you hear
me talking and examining both myself and others is really the very best thing that a
man can do, and that life without this sort of examination is not worth living, you
will be even less inclined to believe me. Nevertheless that is how it is, gentlemen,
as I maintain, though it is not easy to convince you of it. Besides, I am not accus-
tomed to think of myself as deserving punishment. If I had money, I would have sug-
gested a fine that I could afford, because that would not have done me any harm. As
it is, I cannot, because I have none, unless of course you like to fix the penalty
at what I could pay. I suppose I could probably afford a mina. I suggest a fine of
that amount.

One moment, gentlemen. Plato here, and Crito and Critobulus and Apollodorus, want me
to propose thirty minas, on their security. Very well, I agree to this sum, and you
can rely upon these gentlemen for its payment.

Well, gentlemen, for the sake of a very small gain in time you are going to earn the
reputation--and the blame from those who wish to disparage our city--of having put
Socrates to death, 'that wise man'--because they will say I am wise even if I am
not, these people who want to find fault with you. If you had waited just a little
while, you would have had your way in the course of nature. You can see that I am
well on in life and near to death. I am saying this not to all of you but to those
who voted for my execution, and I have something else to say to them as well.

No doubt you think, gentlemen, that I have been condemned for lack of the arguments
which I could have used if I had thought it right to leave nothing unsaid or undone
to secure my acquittal. But that is very far from the truth. It is not a lack of ar-
guments that has caused my condemnation, but a lack of effrontery and impudence, and
the fact that I have refused to address you in the way which would give you most plea-
sure. You would have liked to hear me weep and wail, doing and saying all sorts of
things which I regard as unworthy of myself, but which you are used to hearing from
other people. But I did not think then that I ought to stoop to servility because I
was in danger, and I do not regret now the way in which I pleaded my case. I would
much rather die as the result of this defense than live as the result of the other
sort. In a court of law, just as in warfare, neither I nor any other ought to use his
wits to escape death by any means. In battle it is often obvious that you could es-
cape being killed by giving up your arms and throwing yourself upon the mercy of your
pursuers, and in every kind of danger there are plenty of devices for avoiding death
if you are unscrupulous enough to stick at nothing. But I suggest, gentlemen, that
the difficulty is not so much to escape death; the real difficulty is to escape from
doing wrong, which is far more fleet of foot. In this present instance I, the slow
old man, have been overtaken by the slower of the two, but my accusers, who are cle-
ver and quick, have been overtaken by the faster--by iniquity. When I leave this
court I shall go away condemned by you to death, but they will go away convicted by
truth herself of depravity and wickedness. And they accept their sentence even as I
accept mine. No doubt it was bound to be so, and I think that the result is fair e-
nough.

Having said so much, I feel moved to prophesy to you who have given your vote a-
gainst me, for I am now at that point where the gift of prophecy comes most readily
to men--at the point of death. I tell you, my executioners, that as soon as I am
dead, vengeance shall fall upon you with a punishment far more painful than your
killing of me. You have brought about my death in the belief that through it you
will be delivered from submitting your conduct to criticism, but I say that the
result will be just the opposite. You will have more critics, whom up till now I
have restrained without your knowing it, and being younger they will be harsher to
you and will cause you more annoyance. If you expect to stop denunciation of your
wrong way of life by putting people to death, there is something amiss with your
reasoning. This way of escape is neither possible nor creditable. The best and ea-
siest way is not to stop the mouths of others, but to make yourselves as good men
as you can. This is my last message to you who voted for my condemnation.

As for you who voted for my acquittal, I should very much like to say a few words
to reconcile you to the result, while the officials are busy and I am not yet on
my way to the place where I must die. I ask you, gentlemen, to spare me these few
moments. There is no reason why we should not exchange fancies while the law per-
mits. I look upon you as my friends, and I want you to understand the right way of
regarding my present position.

Gentlemen of the jury--for you deserve to be so called--I have had a remarkable ex-
perience. In the past the prophetic voice to which I have become accustomed has al-
ways been my constant companion, opposing me even in quite trivial things if I was
going to take the wrong course. Now something has happened to me, as you can see,
which might be thought and is commonly considered to be a supreme calamity; yet nei-
ther when I left home this morning, nor when I was taking my place here in the court,
nor at any point in any part of my speech did the divine sign oppose me. In other
discussions it has often checked me in the middle of a sentence, but this time it
has never opposed me in any part of this business in anything that I have said or
done. What do I suppose to be the explanation? I will tell you. I suspect that this
thing that has happened to me is a blessing, and we are quite mistaken in supposing
death to be an evil. I have good grounds for thinking this, because my accustomed
sign could not have failed to oppose me if what I was doing had not been sure to
bring some good result.

[Socrates's Argument that Death is not a Bad Thing]

We should reflect that there is much reason to hope for a good result on other grounds
as well. Death is one of two things. Either it is annihilation, and the dead have no
consciousness of anything, or, as we are told, it is really a change--a migration of
the soul from this place to another. Now if there is no consciousness but only a
dreamless sleep, death must be a marvelous gain. I suppose that if anyone were told
to pick out the night on which he slept so soundly as not even to dream, and then to
compare it with all the other nights and days of his life, and then were told to say,
after due consideration, how many better and happier days and nights than this he had
spent in the course of his life--well, I think that the Great King himself, to say no-
thing of any private person, would find these days and nights easy to count in com-
parison with the rest. If death is like this, then, I call it gain, because the whole
of time, if you look at it in this way, can be regarded as no more than one single
night. If on the other hand death is a removal from here to some other place, and if
what we are told is true, that all the dead are there, what greater blessing could
there be than this, gentlemen? If on arrival in the other world, beyond the reach of
our so-called justice, one will find there the true judges who are said to preside
in those courts, Minos and Rhadamanthus and Aeacus and Triptolemus and all those other
half-divinities who were upright in their earthly life, would that be an unrewarding
journey? Put it in this way. How much would one of you give to meet Orpheus and Mus-
aeus, Hesiod and Homer? I am willing to die ten times over if this account is true.
It would be a specially interesting experience for me to join them there, to meet
Palamedes and Ajax, the son of Telamon, and any other heroes of the old days who met
their death through an unfair trial, and to compare my fortunes with theirs--it would
be rather amusing, I think. And above all I should like to spend my time there, as
here, in examining and searching people's minds, to find out who is really wise among
them, and who only thinks that he is. What would one not give, gentlemen, to be able
to question the leader of that great host against Troy, or Odysseus, or Sisyphus, or
the thousands of other men and women whom one could mention, to talk and mix and ar-
gue with whom would be unimaginable happiness? At any rate I presume that they do not
put one to death there for such conduct, because apart from the other happiness in
which their world surpasses ours, they are now immortal for the rest of time, if what
we are told is true.

You too, gentlemen of the jury, must look forward to death with confidence, and fix
your minds on this one belief, which is certain--that nothing can harm a good man ei-
ther in life or after death, and his fortunes are not a matter of indifference to the
gods. This present experience of mine has not come about mechanically. I am quite clear
that the time had come when it was better for me to die and be released from my dis-
tractions. That is why my sign never turned me back. For my own part I bear no grudge
at all against those who condemned me and accused me, although it was not with this
kind intention that they did so, but because they thought that they were hurting me;
and that is culpable of them.

However, I ask them to grant me one favor. When my sons grow up, gentlemen, if you
think that they are putting money or anything else before goodness, take your revenge
by plaguing them as I plagued you; and if they fancy themselves for no reason, you
must scold them just as I scolded you, for neglecting the important things and think-
ing that they are good for something when they are good for nothing. If you do this,
I shall have had justice at your hands, both I myself and my children.

Now it is time that we were going, I to die and you to live, but which of us has the
happier prospect is unknown to anyone but God.