Book 1, Chapter 2

No less surprising to my mind is the belief that Socrates corrupted the young. This man, who, beyond what has been already stated, kept his appetites and passions under strict control, who was pre-eminently capable of enduring winter's cold and summer's heat and every kind of toil, who was so schooled to curtail his needs that with the scantiest of means he never lacked sufficiency—is it credible that such a man could have made others irreverent or lawless, or licentious, or effeminate in face of toil? Was he not rather the saving of many through the passion for virtue which he roused in them, and the hope he infused that through careful management of themselves they might grow to be truly beautiful and good—not indeed that he ever undertook to be a teacher of virtue, but being evidently virtuous himself he made those who associated with him hope that by imitating they might at last resemble him.

I find it no less surprising that people believe Socrates corrupted the young. Besides the qualities already mentioned, he kept his appetites and passions under strict control. He was exceptionally able to endure winter cold, summer heat, and every kind of hardship. He had learned to need so little that he always had enough, even with the scantiest means. Is it believable that such a man could have made others irreverent, lawless, self-indulgent, or weak in the face of hardship? Instead, did he not save many by inspiring in them a passion for virtue? He gave them hope that, through careful self-discipline, they could become truly beautiful and good. He never claimed to teach virtue. But because he was clearly virtuous himself, he gave his companions hope that by imitating him they could eventually become like him.

But let it not be inferred that he was negligent of his own body or approved of those who neglected theirs. If excess of eating, counteracted by excess of toil, was a dietary of which he disapproved, ¹ to gratify the natural claim of appetite in conjunction with moderate exercise was a system he favoured, as tending to a healthy condition of the body without trammelling the cultivation of the spirit. On the other hand, there was nothing dandified or pretentious about him; he indulged in no foppery of shawl or shoes, or other effeminacy of living.

But do not assume that he neglected his own body or approved of others neglecting theirs. He disapproved of overeating and then trying to make up for it with excessive exercise. ¹ Instead, he favored eating enough to satisfy natural hunger and exercising moderately. He believed this kept the body healthy without hindering the cultivation of the spirit. On the other hand, there was nothing showy or pretentious about him. He wore no fancy shawls or shoes and avoided other forms of luxurious living.

Least of all did he tend to make his companions greedy of money. He would not, while restraining passion generally, make capital out of the one passion which attached others to himself; and by this abstinence, he believed, he was best consulting his own freedom; in so much that he stigmatised those who condescended to take wages for their society as vendors of their own persons, because they were compelled to discuss for the benefits of their paymasters. What surprised him was that any one possessing virtue should deign to ask money as its price instead of simply finding his reward in the acquisition of an honest friend, as if the new-fledged soul of honour could forget her debt of gratitude to her greatest benefactor.

Above all, he did not encourage his companions to be greedy for money. He tried to restrain passions generally, and he would not profit from the one that drew others to him. He believed that refusing payment best protected his own freedom. He called those who accepted payment for their company sellers of their own persons, because they had to discuss whatever benefited the people who paid them. He was surprised that anyone with virtue would ask for money as its price, instead of finding their reward in gaining an honest friend. To him, that was as if a soul newly awakened to honor could forget its gratitude to its greatest benefactor.

For himself, without making any such profession, he was content to believe that those who accepted his views would play their parts as good and true friends to himself and one another their lives long. Once more then: how should a man of this character corrupt the young? unless the careful cultivation of virtue be corruption.

For his part, he made no such claim. He was content to believe that those who accepted his views would remain good and loyal friends to him and to one another throughout their lives. So again, how could a man like this corrupt the young, unless carefully cultivating virtue is corruption?

But, says the accuser, ² by all that's sacred! did not Socrates cause his associates to despise the established laws when he dwelt on the folly of appointing state officers by ballot? ³ a principle which, he said, no one would care to apply in selecting a pilot or a flute-player or in any similar case, where a mistake would be far less disastrous than in matters political. Words like these, according to the accuser, tended to incite the young to contemn the established constitution, rendering them violent and headstrong. But for myself I think that those who cultivate wisdom and believe themselves able to instruct their fellow-citizens as to their interests are least likely to become partisans of violence. They are too well aware that to violence attach enmities and dangers, whereas results as good may be obtained by persuasion safely and amicably. For the victim of violence hates with vindictiveness as one from whom something precious has been stolen, while the willing subject of persuasion is ready to kiss the hand which has done him a service. Hence compulsion is not the method of him who makes wisdom his study, but of him who wields power untempered by reflection. Once more: the man who ventures on violence needs the support of many to fight his battles, while he whose strength lies in persuasiveness triumphs single-handed, for he is conscious of a cunning to compel consent unaided. And what has such a one to do with the spilling of blood? since how ridiculous it were to do men to death rather than turn to account the trusty service of the living.

But the accuser says, ² by all that is sacred, did Socrates not make his associates despise the established laws? Socrates did so, the accuser says, by dwelling on the folly of appointing state officers by ballot. ³ Socrates said no one would choose a pilot or a flute-player that way. Nor would anyone use a ballot in similar cases, where a mistake would be far less disastrous than in politics. According to the accuser, such words encouraged young people to despise the established constitution, making them violent and headstrong. But I think those who cultivate wisdom and believe they can advise their fellow citizens about their interests are least likely to favor violence. They know too well that violence brings hatred and danger. Persuasion, however, can achieve equally good results safely and amicably. A victim of violence hates and seeks revenge, like someone robbed of something precious. But someone willingly persuaded is ready to kiss the hand of the person who has done him a service. So compulsion is not the method of someone who studies wisdom. It is the method of someone who uses power without thoughtful restraint. Moreover, anyone who resorts to violence needs many supporters to fight his battles. But someone who relies on persuasion succeeds alone. He knows he has the skill to win consent without help. And why would such a person spill blood? How ridiculous it would be to kill people rather than make use of their reliable service while they are alive.

But, the accuser answers, the two men ⁴ who wrought the greatest evils to the state at any time—to wit, Critias and Alcibiades—were both companions of Socrates—Critias the oligarch, and Alcibiades the democrat. Where would you find a more arrant thief, savage, and murderer ⁵ than the one? where such a portent of insolence, incontinence, and high-handedness as the other? For my part, in so far as these two wrought evil to the state, I have no desire to appear as the apologist of either. I confine myself to explaining what this intimacy of theirs with Socrates really was.

But, the accuser replies, the two men ⁴ who did the greatest harm to the state were both companions of Socrates. They were Critias, the oligarch, and Alcibiades, the democrat. Where could you find a more outright thief, savage, and murderer ⁵ than Critias? Where could you find anyone as outrageously insolent, self-indulgent, and high-handed as Alcibiades? For my part, I have no wish to defend either man for the harm he did to the state. I will simply explain what their close relationship with Socrates really was.

Never were two more ambitious citizens seen at Athens. Ambition was in their blood. If they were to have their will, all power was to be in their hands; their fame was to eclipse all other. Of Socrates they knew—first that he lived an absolutely independent life on the scantiest means; next that he was self-disciplined to the last degree in respect of pleasures; lastly that he was so formidable in debate that there was no antagonist he could not twist round his little finger. Such being their views, and such the character of the pair, which is the more probable: that they sought the society of Socrates because they felt the fascination of his life, and were attracted by the bearing of the man? or because they thought, if only we are leagued with him we shall become adepts in statecraft and unrivalled in the arts of speech and action? For my part I believe that if the choice from Heaven had been given them to live such a life as they saw Socrates living to its close, or to die, they would both have chosen death.

No two citizens of Athens were more ambitious. Ambition was in their blood. If they had their way, all power would be in their hands, and their fame would eclipse everyone else's. They knew that Socrates lived a completely independent life on very little. They also knew that he exercised the greatest self-discipline when it came to pleasure. Finally, they knew he was so formidable in debate that he could twist any opponent around his little finger. Given their views and their characters, which is more likely? Did they seek Socrates' company because his life fascinated them and they admired the way he carried himself? Or did they think that, by joining him, they would master statecraft and become unrivaled in speech and action? I believe that if Heaven had given them a choice, both would have chosen death. The alternative would have been to live the kind of life they saw Socrates living, right to the end.

Their acts are a conclusive witness to their characters. They no sooner felt themselves to be the masters of those they came in contact with than they sprang aside from Socrates and plunged into that whirl of politics but for which they might never have sought his society.

Their actions are conclusive evidence of their characters. As soon as they felt superior to those they met, they abandoned Socrates and plunged into the whirl of politics. Without politics, they might never have sought his company.

It may be objected: before giving his companions lessons in politics Socrates had better have taught them sobriety. ⁶ Without disputing the principle, I would point out that a teacher cannot fail to discover to his pupils his method of carrying out his own precepts, and this along with argumentative encouragement. Now I know that Socrates disclosed himself to his companions as a beautiful and noble being, who would reason and debate with them concerning virtue and other human interests in the noblest manner. And of these two I know that as long as they were companions of Socrates even they were temperate, not assuredly from fear of being fined or beaten by Socrates, but because they were persuaded for the nonce of the excellence of such conduct.

Someone may object that Socrates should have taught his companions self-control before teaching them politics. ⁶ I do not dispute the principle. But a teacher cannot help showing pupils how he puts his own teachings into practice, while also encouraging them through argument. I know that Socrates showed his companions that he was a beautiful and noble person. He reasoned and debated with them in the noblest way about virtue and other human concerns. I also know that, as long as these two were Socrates’ companions, even they showed self-control. This was certainly not because they feared he would fine or beat them. Rather, they were persuaded for the time being that such conduct was excellent.

Perhaps some self-styled philosophers ⁷ may here answer: "Nay, the man truly just can never become unjust, the temperate man can never become intemperate, the man who has learnt any subject of knowledge can never be as though he had learnt it not." That, however, is not my own conclusion. It is with the workings of the soul as with those of the body; want of exercise of the organ leads to inability of function, here bodily, there spiritual, so that we can neither do the things that we should nor abstain from the things we should not. And that is why fathers keep their sons, however temperate they may be, out of the reach of wicked men, considering that if the society of the good is a training in virtue so also is the society of the bad its dissolution.

Perhaps some self-styled philosophers ⁷ may answer: "No, a truly just person can never become unjust. A self-controlled person can never lose self-control. And someone who has learned a subject can never be as if they had not learned it." But that is not my conclusion. The soul works like the body. When a part of the body is not exercised, it loses its ability to function. The same is true of the soul. As a result, we can neither do what we should nor refrain from doing what we should not. That is why fathers keep their sons away from wicked people, however self-controlled their sons may be. They believe that just as the company of good people trains us in virtue, the company of bad people destroys it.

To this the poet ⁸ is a witness, who says:

The poet ⁸ confirms this, saying:

And he ⁹ who says:

And he ⁹ who says:

to whose testimony I would add my own. For I see that it is impossible to remember a long poem without practice and repetition; so is forgetfulness of the words of instruction engendered in the heart that has ceased to value them. With the words of warning fades the recollection of the very condition of mind in which the soul yearned after holiness; and once forgetting this, what wonder that the man should let slip also the memory of virtue itself! Again I see that a man who falls into habits of drunkenness or plunges headlong into licentious love, loses his old power of practising the right and abstaining from the wrong. Many a man who has found frugality easy whilst passion was cold, no sooner falls in love than he loses the faculty at once, and in his prodigal expenditure of riches he will no longer withhold his hand from gains which in former days were too base to invite his touch. Where then is the difficulty of supposing that a man may be temperate to-day, and to-morrow the reverse; or that he who once has had it in his power to act virtuously may not quite lose that power? ¹⁰ To myself, at all events, it seems that all beautiful and noble things are the result of constant practice and training; and pre-eminently the virtue of temperance, seeing that in one and the same bodily frame pleasures are planted and spring up side by side with the soul and keep whispering in her ear, "Have done with self-restraint, make haste to gratify us and the body." ¹¹

I would add my own testimony to theirs. I see that it is impossible to remember a long poem without practice and repetition. In the same way, people forget words of instruction when they no longer value them. As the words of warning fade, they also forget the state of mind in which their souls longed for holiness. Once they forget that state of mind, is it any wonder that they also forget virtue itself? I also see that a man loses his old ability to do right and avoid wrong when he becomes habitually drunk or plunges into uncontrolled sexual passion. Many men find it easy to be frugal while their passions are quiet, but lose that ability as soon as they fall in love. As they spend their wealth extravagantly, they will no longer refuse gains they once considered too dishonorable to touch. Why, then, is it hard to believe that a man may be self-controlled today and not tomorrow? Or that a man who once had the power to act virtuously may completely lose that power? ¹⁰ It seems to me, at least, that all beautiful and noble things are the result of constant practice and training. This is especially true of self-control. For pleasures take root and grow alongside the soul in the same body, constantly whispering to the soul, "Stop restraining yourself. Hurry and satisfy us and the body." ¹¹

But to return to Critias and Alcibiades, I repeat that as long as they lived with Socrates they were able by his support to dominate their ignoble appetites; ¹² but being separated from him, Critias had to fly to Thessaly, ¹³ where he consorted with fellows better versed in lawlessness than justice. And Alcibiades fared no better. His personal beauty on the one hand incited bevies of fine ladies ¹⁴ to hunt him down as fair spoil, while on the other hand his influence in the state and among the allies exposed him to the corruption of many an adept in the arts of flattery; honoured by the democracy and stepping easily to the front rank he behaved like an athlete who in the games of the Palaestra is so assured of victory that he neglects his training; thus he presently forgot the duty which he owed himself.

But to return to Critias and Alcibiades, I repeat that Socrates helped them control their base desires as long as they lived with him. ¹² But after they parted from him, Critias had to flee to Thessaly, ¹³ where he associated with men who knew more about lawlessness than justice. Alcibiades fared no better. His good looks led crowds of fashionable women ¹⁴ to pursue him as a prize. At the same time, his influence in the state and among the allies exposed him to corruption by many skilled flatterers. The democracy honored him, and he rose easily to a leading position. He behaved like an athlete at the Palaestra games who is so sure of victory that he neglects his training. In this way, he soon forgot his duty to himself.

Such were the misadventures of these two. Is the sequel extraordinary? Inflated with the pride of ancestry, ¹⁵ exalted by their wealth, puffed up by power, sapped to the soul's core by a host of human tempters, separate moreover for many a long day from Socrates—what wonder that they reached the full stature of arrogancy! And for the offences of these two Socrates is to be held responsible! The accuser will have it so. But for the fact that in early days, when they were both young and of an age when dereliction from good feeling and self-restraint might have been expected, this same Socrates kept them modest and well-behaved, not one word of praise is uttered by the accuser for all this. That is not the measure of justice elsewhere meted. Would a master of the harp or flute, would a teacher of any sort who has turned out proficient pupils, be held to account because one of them goes away to another teacher and turns out to be a failure? Or what father, if he have a son who in the society of a certain friend remains an honest lad, but falling into the company of some other becomes a good-for-nothing, will that father straightway accuse the earlier instructor? Will not he rather, in proportion as the boy deteriorates in the company of the latter, bestow more heartfelt praise upon the former? What father, himself sharing the society of his own children, is held to blame for their transgressions, if only his own goodness be established? Here would have been a fair test to apply to Socrates: Was he guilty of any base conduct himself? If so let him be set down as a knave, but if, on the contrary, he never faltered in sobriety from beginning to end, how in the name of justice is he to be held to account for a baseness which was not in him?

Such were the misfortunes of these two men. Is what followed surprising? They were full of pride in their ancestry, ¹⁵ elevated by their wealth, and puffed up by power. Countless human temptations had weakened them to the core, and they had been away from Socrates for many years. Is it any wonder that they became thoroughly arrogant? And Socrates is supposed to be held responsible for their offenses! That is what the accuser claims. But the accuser says nothing in praise of Socrates for keeping both men modest and well-behaved in their early days. They were young then, at an age when they might have been expected to abandon good feeling and self-restraint. That is not how justice is measured elsewhere. Suppose a harp or flute teacher, or any other teacher, has trained skilled pupils. Would the teacher be blamed if one pupil left for another teacher and became a failure? Or suppose a son remains honest while in the company of one friend, but becomes a good-for-nothing among others. Would his father immediately blame the first friend? Would the father not praise the first friend all the more as the boy grew worse in the company of the others? What father who spends time with his own children is blamed for their wrongdoing, as long as his own goodness is established? This would have been a fair test to apply to Socrates: Was he guilty of any shameful conduct himself? If so, let him be called a scoundrel. But if, on the contrary, he never failed to show self-restraint from beginning to end, how can justice hold him responsible for a vice he did not possess?

I go further: if, short of being guilty of any wrong himself, he saw the evil doings of others with approval, reason were he should be held blameworthy. Listen then: Socrates was well aware that Critias was attached to Euthydemus, ¹⁶ aware too that he was endeavouring to deal by him after the manner of those wantons whose love is carnal of the body. From this endeavour he tried to deter him, pointing out how illiberal a thing it was, how ill befitting a man of honour to appear as a beggar before him whom he loved, in whose eyes he would fain be precious, ever petitioning for something base to give and base to get.

I would go further: even if he committed no wrong himself, he would deserve blame if he approved of others’ wrongdoing. Consider this: Socrates knew that Critias was attracted to Euthydemus, ¹⁶ and that he was trying to pursue him like those who seek only physical pleasure. Socrates tried to discourage him. He pointed out how degrading and unworthy of an honorable man it was to beg the person he loved, and whose esteem he wanted, for something shameful both to give and to receive.

But when this reasoning fell on deaf ears and Critias refused to be turned aside, Socrates, as the story goes, took occasion of the presence of a whole company and of Euthydemus to remark that Critias appeared to be suffering from a swinish affection, or else why this desire to rub himself against Euthydemus like a herd of piglings scraping against stones.

But the argument fell on deaf ears, and Critias refused to change his ways. So, as the story goes, Socrates spoke up in front of a whole group, including Euthydemus. He said that Critias seemed to have the urges of a pig. Why else would he want to rub himself against Euthydemus like a herd of piglets scratching against stones?

The hatred of Critias to Socrates doubtless dates from this incident. He treasured it up against him, and afterwards, when he was one of the Thirty and associated with Charicles as their official lawgiver, ¹⁷ he framed the law against teaching the art of words ¹⁸ merely from a desire to vilify Socrates. He was at a loss to know how else to lay hold of him except by levelling against him the vulgar charge ¹⁹ against philosophers, by which he hoped to prejudice him with the public. It was a charge quite unfounded as regards Socrates, if I may judge from anything I ever heard fall from his lips myself or have learnt about him from others. But the animus of Critias was clear. At the time when the Thirty were putting citizens, highly respectable citizens, to death wholesale, and when they were egging on one man after another to the commission of crime, Socrates let fall an observation: "It would be sufficiently extraordinary if the keeper of a herd of cattle ²⁰ who was continually thinning and impoverishing his cattle did not admit himself to be a sorry sort of herdsman, but that a ruler of the state who was continually thinning and impoverishing the citizens should neither be ashamed nor admit himself to be a sorry sort of ruler was more extraordinary still." The remark being reported to the government, Socrates was summoned by Critias and Charicles, who proceeded to point out the law and forbade him to converse with the young. "Was it open to him," Socrates inquired of the speaker, "in case he failed to understand their commands in any point, to ask for an explanation?"

Critias’s hatred of Socrates doubtless began with this incident. He held a grudge against Socrates afterward. Later, Critias became one of the Thirty and served with Charicles as their official lawgiver. ¹⁷ He made the law against teaching the art of words ¹⁸ solely because he wanted to vilify Socrates. He could think of no other way to attack Socrates except by making the common accusation ¹⁹ against philosophers. He hoped the accusation would turn the public against Socrates. But the accusation was completely unfounded in Socrates’s case, if I may judge from what I heard him say or learned from others. Critias’s hostility was clear. The Thirty were putting citizens, including highly respectable citizens, to death in large numbers. They were also urging one man after another to commit crimes. At this time, Socrates remarked: "It would be strange enough if a cattle keeper ²⁰ kept reducing his herd and letting it grow poorer, yet refused to admit that he was a poor herdsman. But it would be even stranger if a ruler kept reducing the number of citizens and making them poorer, yet felt no shame and refused to admit that he was a poor ruler." When the remark was reported to the government, Critias and Charicles summoned Socrates. They pointed out the law and forbade him to speak with the young. Socrates asked the speaker, "If I do not understand any part of your commands, may I ask for an explanation?"

"Certainly," the two assented.

"Of course," they both agreed.

Then Socrates: I am prepared to obey the laws, but to avoid transgression of the law through ignorance I need instruction: is it on the supposition that the art of words tends to correctness of statement or to incorrectness that you bid us abstain from it? for if the former, it is clear we must abstain from speaking correctly, but if the latter, our endeavour should be to amend our speech.

Then Socrates said: I am ready to obey the laws, but I need instruction so I do not unknowingly break one. Do you order us to avoid the art of words because you think it leads to speaking correctly or incorrectly? If it leads to speaking correctly, then clearly we must avoid speaking correctly. But if it leads to speaking incorrectly, we should try to improve our speech.

To which Charicles, in a fit of temper, retorted: In consideration of your ignorance, ²¹ Socrates, we will frame the prohibition in language better suited to your intelligence: we forbid you to hold any conversation whatsoever with the young.

At this, Charicles snapped: Given your ignorance, ²¹ Socrates, we will put the ban in terms better suited to your intelligence. We forbid you to have any conversation whatsoever with young people.

Then Socrates: To avoid all ambiguity then, or the possibility of my doing anything else than what you are pleased to command, may I ask you to define up to what age a human being is to be considered young?

Then Socrates said: To avoid all ambiguity, and to make sure I do only what you command, may I ask a question? Up to what age is a person considered young?

For just so long a time (Charicles answered) as he is debarred from sitting as a member of the Council, ²² as not having attained to the maturity of wisdom; accordingly you will not hold converse with any one under the age of thirty.

For as long as he is barred from serving on the Council, ²² Charicles answered, because he is not considered wise enough. So you must not talk with anyone under thirty.

Soc. In making a purchase even, I am not to ask, what is the price of this? if the vendor is under the age of thirty?

Soc. Even when buying something, am I not allowed to ask, “What is the price of this?” if the seller is under thirty?

Cha. Tut, things of that sort: but you know, Socrates, that you have a way of asking questions, when all the while you know how the matter stands. Let us have no questions of that sort.

Cha. Oh, things like that. But you know, Socrates, you have a habit of asking questions when you already know the answer. Let's have none of those questions.

Soc. Nor answers either, I suppose, if the inquiry concerns what I know, as, for instance, where does Charicles live? or where is Critias to be found?

Soc. Nor, I suppose, can I give answers when the questions concern what I know. For example, where does Charicles live? Or where can Critias be found?

Oh yes, of course, things of that kind (replied Charicles), while Critias added: But at the same time you had better have done with your shoemakers, carpenters, and coppersmiths. ²³ These must be pretty well trodden out at heel by this time, considering the circulation you have given them.

Oh yes, of course, things like that, replied Charicles. But Critias added: At the same time, you had better stop talking about your shoemakers, carpenters, and coppersmiths. ²³ You have used them so often that they must be pretty worn down at the heels by now.

Soc. And am I to hold away from their attendant topics also—the just, the holy, and the like?

Soc. Am I also supposed to avoid related topics, such as justice, holiness, and the like?

Most assuredly (answered Charicles), and from cowherds in particular; or else see that you do not lessen the number of the herd yourself.

“Absolutely,” Charicles replied, “and especially from cowherds. Otherwise, make sure you don't reduce the number in the herd yourself.”

Thus the secret was out. The remark of Socrates about the cattle had come to their ears, and they could not forgive the author of it.

So the secret was out. They had heard Socrates' remark about the cattle, and they could not forgive him for it.

Perhaps enough has been said to explain the kind of intimacy which had subsisted between Critias and Socrates, and their relation to one another. But I will venture to maintain that where the teacher is not pleasing to the pupil there is no education. Now it cannot be said of Critias and Alcibiades that they associated with Socrates because they found him pleasing to them. And this is true of the whole period. From the first their eyes were fixed on the headship of the state as their final goal. During the time of their intimacy with Socrates there were no disputants whom they were more eager to encounter than professed politicians.

Perhaps enough has been said about the close relationship between Critias and Socrates. But I would argue that a pupil cannot learn from a teacher the pupil does not like. Critias and Alcibiades did not spend time with Socrates because they liked him. That was true throughout their association with him. From the beginning, their ultimate goal was to lead the state. While they were close to Socrates, they were more eager to debate professional politicians than anyone else.

Thus the story is told of Alcibiades—how before the age of twenty he engaged his own guardian, Pericles, at that time prime minister of the state, in a discussion concerning laws.

The story goes that Alcibiades discussed laws with his guardian, Pericles, before he was twenty. At the time, Pericles was the state's prime minister.

Alc. Please, Pericles, can you teach me what a law is?

Alc. Please, Pericles, can you teach me what a law is?

Per. To be sure I can.

Per. Of course I can.

Alc. I should be so much obliged if you would do so. One so often hears the epithet "law-abiding" applied in a complimentary sense; yet, it strikes me, one hardly deserves the compliment, if one does not know what a law is.

Alc. I would be very grateful if you did. People often use the word "law-abiding" as a compliment. Yet it seems to me that you hardly deserve the compliment if you do not know what a law is.

Per. Fortunately there is a ready answer to your difficulty. You wish to know what a law is? Well, those are laws which the majority, being met together in conclave, approve and enact as to what it is right to do, and what it is right to abstain from doing.

Per. Fortunately, there is a simple answer to your question. You want to know what a law is? Laws are rules that the majority meet to approve and enact about what is right to do and what is right to avoid.

Alc. Enact on the hypothesis that it is right to do what is good? or to do what is bad?

Alc. Do they make laws on the assumption that it is right to do good, or to do bad?

Per. What is good, to be sure, young sir, not what is bad.

Per. What is good, of course, young man, not what is bad.

Alc. Supposing it is not the majority, but, as in the case of an oligarchy, the minority, who meet and enact the rules of conduct, what are these?

Alc. Suppose the minority, rather than the majority, meet and make rules of conduct, as in an oligarchy. What are these rules?

Per. Whatever the ruling power of the state after deliberation enacts as our duty to do, goes by the name of laws.

Per. Whatever the state's ruling power, after consideration, decrees that we must do is called law.

Alc. Then if a tyrant, holding the chief power in the state, enacts rules of conduct for the citizens, are these enactments law?

Alc. Then if a tyrant with supreme power in the state makes rules for citizens to follow, are those rules laws?

Per. Yes, anything which a tyrant as head of the state enacts, also goes by the name of law.

Per. Yes, anything a tyrant enacts as head of state is also called a law.

Alc. But, Pericles, violence and lawlessness—how do we define them? Is it not when a stronger man forces a weaker to do what seems right to him—not by persuasion but by compulsion?

Alc. But, Pericles, how do we define violence and lawlessness? Isn’t it when a stronger man forces a weaker man to do what the stronger man thinks is right, rather than persuading him?

Per. I should say so.

Per. I would say so.

Alc. It would seem to follow that if a tyrant, without persuading the citizens, drives them by enactment to do certain things—that is lawlessness?

Alc. So if a tyrant passes a law forcing citizens to do certain things without persuading them, is that lawlessness?

Per. You are right; and I retract the statement that measures passed by a tyrant without persuasion of the citizens are law.

Per. You are right. I take back my claim that measures a tyrant passes without persuading the citizens are law.

Alc. And what of measures passed by a minority, not by persuasion of the majority, but in the exercise of its power only? Are we, or are we not, to apply the term violence to these?

Alc. What about measures passed by a minority, using only its power instead of persuading the majority? Should we call these measures violence or not?

Per. I think that anything which any one forces another to do without persuasion, whether by enactment or not, is violence rather than law.

Per. I think that forcing someone to do something without persuading them is violence, not law. This is true whether or not it is enacted as law.

Alc. It would seem that everything which the majority, in the exercise of its power over the possessors of wealth, and without persuading them, chooses to enact, is of the nature of violence rather than of law?

Alc. So it seems that everything the majority enacts by using its power over the wealthy, without persuading them, is violence rather than law?

To be sure (answered Pericles), adding: At your age we were clever hands at such quibbles ourselves. It was just such subtleties which we used to practise our wits upon; as you do now, if I mistake not.

“Of course,” Pericles replied. “At your age, we were good at such quibbles ourselves. We used to sharpen our wits on just such subtleties, as you do now, if I’m not mistaken.”

To which Alcibiades replied: Ah, Pericles, I do wish we could have met in those days when you were at your cleverest in such matters.

Alcibiades replied: Ah, Pericles, I wish we could have met when you were at your cleverest in such matters.

Well, then, as soon as the desired superiority over the politicians of the day seemed to be attained, Critias and Alcibiades turned their backs on Socrates. They found his society unattractive, not to speak of the annoyance of being cross-questioned on their own shortcomings. Forthwith they devoted themselves to those affairs of state but for which they would never have come near him at all.

Well, then, Critias and Alcibiades turned their backs on Socrates as soon as they seemed to have gained the advantage they wanted over the politicians of the day. They did not enjoy his company. They also resented being questioned about their own shortcomings. They immediately devoted themselves to affairs of state. If not for politics, they would never have approached Socrates at all.

No; if one would seek to see true companions of Socrates, one must look to Crito, ²⁴ and Chaerephon, and Chaerecrates, to Hermogenes, to Simmias and Cebes, to Phaedondes and others, who clung to him not to excel in the rhetoric of the Assembly or the law-courts, but with the nobler ambition of attaining to such beauty and goodliness of soul as would enable them to discharge the various duties of life to house and family, to relatives and friends, to fellow-citizens, and to the state at large. Of these true followers not one in youth or old age was ever guilty, or thought guilty, of committing any evil deed.

No, if you want to see Socrates’ true companions, look to Crito, ²⁴ Chaerephon, Chaerecrates, Hermogenes, Simmias, Cebes, Phaedondes, and others. They stayed close to him not to become skilled speakers in the Assembly or the courts. Their nobler ambition was to develop beauty and goodness of soul. This would enable them to fulfill their duties in life to their household and family, relatives and friends, fellow citizens, and the state as a whole. None of these true followers ever committed an evil deed, or was thought to have committed one, in youth or old age.

"But for all that," the accuser insists, "Socrates taught sons to pour contumely upon their fathers ²⁵ by persuading his young friends that he could make them wiser than their sires, or by pointing out that the law allowed a son to sue his father for aberration of mind, and to imprison him, which legal ordinance he put in evidence to prove that it might be well for the wiser to imprison the more ignorant."

"But even so," the accuser insists, "Socrates taught sons to insult their fathers ²⁵ by persuading his young friends that he could make them wiser than their fathers. He also pointed out that the law allowed a son to sue and imprison his father for mental illness. Socrates cited this law as evidence that it might be right for wiser people to imprison those less wise."

Now what Socrates held was, that if a man may with justice incarcerate another for no better cause than a form of folly or ignorance, this same person could not justly complain if he in his turn were kept in bonds by his superiors in knowledge; and to come to the bottom of such questions, to discover the difference between madness and ignorance was a problem which he was perpetually working at. His opinion came to this: If a madman may, as a matter of expediency to himself and his friends, be kept in prison, surely, as a matter of justice, the man who knows not what he ought to know should be content to sit at the feet of those who know, and be taught.

Socrates held that a man might justly imprison another merely for some kind of folly or ignorance. But if so, that man could not justly complain if those with greater knowledge bound him in turn. To get to the bottom of such questions, Socrates continually tried to discover the difference between madness and ignorance. His opinion was this: A madman may be imprisoned for his own benefit and that of his friends. If so, surely justice requires that a man who does not know what he ought to know should be content to learn from those who do.

But it was the rest of their kith and kin, not fathers only (according to the accuser), whom Socrates dishonoured in the eyes of his circle of followers, when he said that "the sick man or the litigant does not derive assistance from his relatives, ²⁶ but from his doctor in the one case, and his legal adviser in the other." "Listen further to his language about friends," says the accuser: "'What is the good of their being kindly disposed, unless they can be of some practical use to you? Mere goodness of disposition is nothing; those only are worthy of honour who combine with the knowledge of what is right the faculty of expounding it;' ²⁷ and so by bringing the young to look upon himself as a superlatively wise person gifted with an extraordinary capacity for making others wise also, he so worked on the dispositions of those who consorted with him that in their esteem the rest of the world counted for nothing by comparison with Socrates."

But according to the accuser, Socrates discredited more than just fathers in the eyes of his followers. He also discredited their other relatives. He said that "a sick person or someone involved in a lawsuit does not get help from relatives, ²⁶ but from a doctor in one case and a legal adviser in the other." "Listen also to what he says about friends," says the accuser: "'What good is their kindness unless they can be of some practical use to you? Kindness alone is worth nothing. Only those who know what is right and can explain it to others deserve respect.' ²⁷ And so he led young people to see him as exceptionally wise and extraordinarily able to make others wise. In this way, he influenced those who associated with him, so that they thought nothing of the rest of the world compared with Socrates."

Now I admit the language about fathers and the rest of a man's relations. I can go further, and add some other sayings of his, that "when the soul (which is alone the indwelling centre of intelligence) is gone out of a man, be he our nearest and dearest friend, we carry the body forth and bury it out of sight." "Even in life," he used to say, "each of us is ready to part with any portion of his best possession—to wit, his own body—if it be useless and unprofitable. He will remove it himself, or suffer another to do so in his stead. Thus men cut off their own nails, hair, or corns; they allow surgeons to cut and cauterise them, not without pains and aches, and are so grateful to the doctor for his services that they further give him a fee. Or again, a man ejects the spittle from his mouth as far as possible. ²⁸ Why? Because it is of no use while it stays within the system, but is detrimental rather."

Now I admit that he said these things about fathers and a man's other relatives. I can go further and add some other things he said: "The soul alone is the source of intelligence within a person. When it leaves a person, even our nearest and dearest friend, we carry the body away and bury it out of sight." "Even in life," he used to say, "each of us is ready to part with any part of his most valuable possession, his own body, if that part is useless and unprofitable. He will remove it himself or let someone else do it for him. So people cut off their own nails, hair, or corns. They let surgeons cut and cauterize them, even though it causes pain and aches. They are so grateful to the doctor for these services that they even pay him a fee. Or again, a man spits as far from his mouth as possible. ²⁸ Why? Because the spit is no use while it remains in the body. Instead, it is harmful."

Now by these instances his object was not to inculcate the duty of burying one's father alive or of cutting oneself to bits, but to show that lack of intelligence means lack of worth; ²⁹ and so he called upon his hearers to be as sensible and useful as they could be, so that, be it father or brother or any one else whose esteem he would deserve, a man should not hug himself in careless self-interest, trusting to mere relationship, but strive to be useful to those whose esteem he coveted.

His point in giving these examples was not to teach that people should bury their fathers alive or cut themselves to bits. He wanted to show that a lack of intelligence means a lack of worth. ²⁹ So he urged his listeners to be as sensible and useful as they could be. If a man wanted to deserve someone’s esteem, whether his father’s, his brother’s, or anyone else’s, he should not rely on the relationship alone and carelessly pursue his own interests. Instead, he should strive to be useful to the person whose esteem he wanted.

But (pursues the accuser) by carefully culling the most immoral passages of the famous poets, and using them as evidences, he taught his associates to be evildoers and tyrranical: the line of Hesiod ³⁰ for instance—

But the accuser continues: Socrates carefully selected the most immoral passages from famous poets and used them as evidence. In this way, he taught his associates to do evil and act like tyrants. One example was the line from Hesiod ³⁰:

"interpreted," says the accuser, "by Socrates as if the poet enjoined us to abstain from no work wicked or ignoble; do everything for the sake of gain."

"interpreted," says the accuser, "by Socrates as if the poet told us not to avoid any work, however wicked or dishonorable, and to do everything for gain."

Now while Socrates would have entirely admitted the propositions that "it is a blessing and a benefit to a man to be a worker," and that "a lazy do-nothing is a pestilent evil," that "work is good and idleness a curse," the question arises, whom did he mean by workers? In his vocabulary only those were good workmen ³¹ who were engaged on good work; dicers and gamblers and others engaged on any other base and ruinous business he stigmatised as the "idle drones"; and from this point of view the quotation from Hesiod is unimpeachable—

Socrates would have fully agreed that "working is a blessing and a benefit to a person," and that "a lazy do-nothing is a terrible evil," and that "work is good and idleness a curse." But whom did he mean by workers? In his view, only those doing good work were good workers ³¹. He called dice players, gamblers, and others engaged in any other dishonorable and ruinous business "idle drones." From this point of view, the quotation from Hesiod is beyond criticism:

But there was a passage from Homer ³² for ever on his lips, as the accuser tells us—the passage which says concerning Odysseus,

But the accuser tells us that he was always quoting a passage from Homer ³², the passage about Odysseus,

The accuser informs us that Socrates interpreted these lines as though the poet approved the giving of blows to commoners and poor folk. Now no such remark was ever made by Socrates; which indeed would have been tantamount to maintaining that he ought to be beaten himself. What he did say was, that those who were useful neither in word nor deed, who were incapable of rendering assistance in time of need to the army or the state or the people itself, be they never so wealthy, ought to be restrained, and especially if to incapacity they added effrontery.

The accuser tells us that Socrates interpreted these lines to mean that the poet approved of beating commoners and poor people. But Socrates never said any such thing. Indeed, that would have been like saying that he himself deserved a beating. What he did say was that some people ought to be restrained, however wealthy they might be. He meant those who were useful neither in speech nor in action. They could not help the army, the state, or the people in times of need. This was especially true if they added shamelessness to their lack of ability.

As to Socrates, he was the very opposite of all this—he was plainly a lover of the people, and indeed of all mankind. Though he had many ardent admirers among citizens and strangers alike, he never demanded any fee for his society from any one, ³⁴ but bestowed abundantly upon all alike of the riches of his soul—good things, indeed, of which fragments accepted gratis at his hands were taken and sold at high prices to the rest of the community by some, ³⁵ who were not, as he was, lovers of the people, since with those who had not money to give in return they refused to discourse. But of Socrates be it said that in the eyes of the whole world he reflected more honour on the state and a richer lustre than ever Lichas, ³⁶ whose fame is proverbial, shed on Lacedaemon. Lichas feasted and entertained the foreign residents in Lacedaemon at the Gymnopaediae most handsomely. Socrates gave a lifetime to the outpouring of his substance in the shape of the greatest benefits bestowed on all who cared to receive them. In other words, he made those who lived in his society better men, and sent them on their way rejoicing.

Socrates was the exact opposite. He clearly loved the people, and indeed all humanity. Though many citizens and foreigners admired him deeply, he never charged anyone for his company. ³⁴ Instead, he shared the riches of his soul freely and generously with everyone. Some accepted bits of these riches for free and sold them to the rest of the community at high prices. ³⁵ Unlike Socrates, these people did not love the people, because they refused to talk with those who could not pay them. In the eyes of the whole world, Socrates brought his state more honor and glory than Lichas, ³⁶ whose fame is legendary, ever brought Lacedaemon. Lichas generously hosted and entertained foreign residents of Lacedaemon at the Gymnopaediae. Socrates spent his lifetime giving the greatest benefits to all who cared to receive them. In other words, he made those who spent time with him better men and sent them on their way rejoicing.

To no other conclusion, therefore, can I come but that, being so good a man, Socrates was worthier to have received honour from the state than death. And this I take to be the strictly legal view of the case, for what does the law require? ³⁷ "If a man be proved to be a thief, a filcher of clothes, a cut-purse, a housebreaker, a man-stealer, a robber of temples, the penalty is death." Even so; and of all men Socrates stood most aloof from such crimes.

Therefore, I can only conclude that Socrates was such a good man that the state should have honored him rather than put him to death. I believe this is also the strictly legal view of the case. What does the law require? ³⁷ "If a man is proved to be a thief, a clothes thief, a pickpocket, a burglar, a kidnapper, or a temple robber, the penalty is death." That is what the law says. Yet of all men, Socrates was the least involved in such crimes.

To the state he was never the cause of any evil—neither disaster in war, nor faction, nor treason, nor any other mischief whatsoever. And if his public life was free from all offence, so was his private. He never hurt a single soul either by deprivation of good or infliction of evil, nor did he ever lie under the imputation of any of those misdoings. where then is his liability to the indictment to be found? Who, so far from disbelieving in the gods, as set forth in the indictment, was conspicuous beyond all men for service to heaven; so far from corrupting the young—a charge alleged with insistence by the prosecutor—was notorious for the zeal with which he strove not only to stay his associates from evil desires, but to foster in them a passionate desire for that loveliest and queenliest of virtues without which states and families crumble to decay. ³⁸ Such being his conduct, was he not worthy of high honour from the state of Athens?

He never caused the state any harm, whether through defeat in war, faction, treason, or any other wrongdoing. Just as his public life was free from all wrongdoing, so was his private life. He never harmed a single person, either by depriving them of something good or by doing them harm. Nor was he ever accused of any such wrongdoing. Where, then, is the basis for the charge against him? Far from disbelieving in the gods, as the indictment claimed, he was more devoted to the gods than anyone else. The prosecutor insisted that he corrupted the young. Yet he was well known for his zeal in trying to keep his associates from evil desires. He also tried to inspire in them a passionate desire for the loveliest and noblest of virtues. Without that virtue, states and families fall apart. ³⁸ Given his conduct, did he not deserve high honor from the state of Athens?