Socrates ends the following long speech from the centre of the floor.
SOCRATES: Of course in the middle of a crowd like this I enjoy feeling as good as anyone else: but alone I am sometimes . . . terrified by the thought that there is nobody in the world superior to me. I wanted to prove that oracle wrong so went straight to the top. I visited a great and noble statesman whose name – I shall not disclose. He was twice divorced, lived with a foreign prostitute and had a bald head which came to a point like the dome of the new music-hall. His head embarrassed him, so you see him in public statues wearing a helmet like Agamemnon and Achilles wore when the Greeks fought the Trojans, and why should he not? In warfare he was a better general than Agamemnon who, by Homer’s account, antagonized his bravest officer, and better than Achilles who spent most of the war sulking behind the lines . . .
PRESIDENT: (exasperated) You’re supposed to be defending yourself man, not praising Pericles.
SOCRATES: (as if puzzled) Is that what I’m doing? I’m sorry. This statesman ruled Athens for thirty years because the majority party thought he was defending them from the greed of the rich, and the best people thought he protected them from the many. He kept both sides happy by plundering our allies under the pretext of defending them from Persia, and many folk still think that the goodness and beauty of Athens was all his doing. But when I asked him how men could learn to be good his answer – when I stripped away the trimmings – was “Vote for me”. About virtue that great man was as stupid as I am – in fact stupider, because he thought he was wise and virtuous. I tried to explain his curious mistake and he got very cross. So did his friends. They stopped inviting me to their houses.
Now a great scientist lived in Athens at that time, a foreigner from Ionia who we nicknamed “Heavenly Reason”. (points forefinger) You condemned him to death for heresy, didn’t you? You shouldn’t have. He really did worship God, but where a peasant sees the maker of the universe as a mysteriously angry old man chucking lightning around, Anaxagoras saw him as a heavenly energy driving streams of atoms to resolve their friction by electrical discharges of an occasionally lethal nature. That made no sense to me, but when this old chap spoke about it his eyes opened wide and stopped focusing – he was as full of reverence and wonder as a priestess on a tripod. I said “Master! Teach me wisdom please”. He showed me his big new map of the heavens. Very pretty it was, hundreds of circles with the sun in the middle instead of the world. He said “Believe this. It is true.” “All right”, I said, “But I live in Athens. How can Athenians become better men?” He said “Study the stars. When men appreciate the vastness of the heavenly harmony, they will forget their petty differences and harmonize with each other.” He thought that answered my question. I disagreed.
For the last twenty years I have used my little bit of genius to examine men who were thought to be geniuses all the way through, and all I’ve found are people clever at their job. In everyday life they are as ignorant as shopkeepers, labourers and slaves. Apollo is right! We’re complicated, we Athenians – kind to animals at home and killing innocent families in lands which want nothing to do with us. I believe God likes me to spread uncertainty, I won’t stop doing it. And of course, a lot of rich young idlers follow me around because they like seeing their elders looking uncomfortable. They imitate me too, and anyone who’s exposed as a bit muddle-headed and inconsistent – (and who isn’t? I know I am) – blames me instead of himself. And any politician who starts losing votes blames me instead of himself. And any father whose son doesn’t love him blames me instead of himself. (he is near Anytus and looks at him) Tell me, Anytus. If I am a danger to the youth of this city, what men are good for them? Who teaches them virtue?
ANYTUS: All of them. Except you.
SOCRATES: All of them? (he glances, puzzled, at the jury) Will you explain that?
ANYTUS: I will. Other teachers talk to the people in crowds: you speak to them in small private parties. You say this is because you lack eloquence – a lie. The jury have heard you now and know you lied. You deal with us in ones and twos because we are weaker that way. When a useful citizen is separated from others and examined on his wisdom of course he does badly. Taken separately we are ignorant and selfish, as you easily prove. But when we co-operate our small bits of knowledge become a wisdom surrounding and supporting everyone – even you, who are too vain to notice it. Through democracy we feed, love and defend each other, we stand up, look at the stars and salute the Gods, that isn’t ignorance. Joined in society we teach our children to serve themselves by serving others. Some teaching comes from experts but the best teaching is the example of ordinary citizens. The only man who teaches nothing but wrong is the one who stands outside society and beckons.
Cries of approval from some jurors.
SOCRATES: Anytus, I am the most sociable man in the state! The streets are my clubrooms. I talk to anyone.
ANYTUS: It’s easy for the parasite to stump up and down, gather an audience of two or three and teach it to sneer at the majority he depends upon. Your questions split us up. When we doubt our small store of traditional wisdom we cannot act together. Society lives by actions, not by puzzling over demoralising questions. You are a criminal because you are a demoralizer!
SOCRATES: (staring at him) The only one?
ANYTUS: The main one! (he points at the disciples) If society shuts your mouth these people will close theirs.
Louder cries of approval.
PRESIDENT: (loudly) Now then, a little patience please, we’re getting to the end.
SOCRATES: (thoughtfully) Anytus, before you spoke of shutting my mouth you were almost talking intelligently. I like the idea of this great wise giant called society. Can he instruct me? Where can I hear his voice? It surely wasn’t that braying sound I heard a moment ago . . .
Loud boos and hisses from jurors, silenced when Anytus raises his hand, shaking his head.
SOCRATES: (smiling) . . . was it?
ANYTUS: The voice of a society is in our laws. Laws made and voted for in parliament by the people.
SOCRATES: I don’t contradict that voice, Anytus. I’ve never broken that law. No law forbids a man saying what he thinks.
ANYTUS: Another voice of society is public opinion revealed through a legal action – this legal action. I tell you that Athens is sick of you.
SOCRATES: So you are the voice of Athens?
ANYTUS: The vote will tell us. If the majority are for you I must pay a very large fine.
SOCRATES: That hardly seems right when you’ve only said what you sincerely believe. (loudly) Mr President, let’s have the voting. (stumps over to his disciples waving stick at the jury and shouting) I hope there are philosophers among you lot.
The jurors engage in arguments and conversations. The president consults the paper in his hand. Two court officials mount the stage and stand, one on each side of him.
PRESIDENT: Will three friends of the accuser and three of the accused kindly join the tellers?
The official on Socrates’ side is joined by Plato, a handsome young aristocrat; by Crito, who is a fat, bald, comfortable-looking person; by Aeschines, a haggard working-class intellectual. The three who join Anytus are all middle-class. The president, paper in hand, comes to the front of the stage where he can most closely dominate the assembly. A gong, bell or board is struck loudly. The crowd falls silent.
PRESIDENT: Attention. I’m going to read the charge again. Socrates opposes the Gods of the Athenian state, sets up a false god of his own and uses it to corrupt young men, right? You’ve all seen enough today to make up your minds about this so I want no swithering. When I give the word all free men who agree with that charge will raise their hands and keep them up till I say so. No half lifting a hand and looking round to see if you’re in the majority. If you’ve doubts, give the accused the benefit of them. We’re doing a parliamentary job today so there must be no idiotic don’t knows. Citizens who think Socrates guilty will now raise their right hands.
PRESIDENT: Hands down. Four hundred and seventy eight of you support the charge. That means four hundred and twenty one disagree and Socrates is guilty by a fifty eight majority. The guilt of the accused having thus been proved, we must now vote for an appropriate punishment. What do you propose, Anytus?
ANYTUS: (facing the jury) You know what I want. Socrates must be silenced and death is the one sure way of doing it. But if he proposes banishment instead, and you vote for that, I will be satisfied. Either way Athens will be rid of him. You have seen him treat this trial as a joke! He has treated you, a jury representing the whole Athenian state, as a joke. This moral philosopher thinks the legal process of a democratic state is a laughing matter. So if he suggests it, and you prefer it, let him leave here for his beloved Sparta, or even Persia where most of the enemies we banish find a home. He’s a famous man! Every city which hates ours will welcome him. But not for long, I think. Only the democracy of Athens could have borne such a man as long as you have. I propose the hemlock. (He sits down)
PRESIDENT: Your turn, Socrates.
Socrates has sat smiling and shaking his head while the three disciples who helped the teller have tried to persuade him of something. He stands and moves to centre stage saying: – SOCRATES: Banishment. Banishment. No you won’t get rid of me that way. (faces jury with hands folded on stick) Anytus is right: only a democracy could have put up with me. I am a democratic growth and at my age I refuse to be transplanted. I profited by our laws so I will die by them, if that is what you want. But the law requires me to propose an alternative to capital punishment so by rejecting banishment I will have to propose a fine. I can’t possibly pay more than I have here. Here it is in my pocket – one minae – not a coin of great value. Will it do? (holds it out in palm of hand)
Jeers and catcalls from jurors. The President covers his eyes with his hands. Plato from the side of the stage starts desperately waving his hands and shouting.
PLATO: Socrates! . . . Men of Athens, I propose –
SOCRATES: (loudly over Plato’s voice) Men of Athens, my young friend here wants to tell you that he and other rich pals of mine will pay the state a large fine on my behalf. I won’t tell you how much because it might tempt you into perverting the course of justice. But for me to propose a fine of even one small coin is an admission of guilt so I withdraw that offer, and before I make another let me say something about Anytus, who I have heard with more sympathy and respect than he will ever believe.
Anytus regards our country, doesn’t he? as a giant man whose strength is the strength of everyone in it and whose wisdom is as great as all our intelligences put together. And it could be that. If we truly loved each other it would be that. But we don’t work together, we compete – the rich with the poor, businesses with businesses, trades with trades, sex with sex. We have only truly co-operated when at war: at war with Persia or Sparta or small states sick of us taxing them. When not at war our peace is more like the fixity of wrestlers with holds on each other too tight to be broken. So instead of Athens being a vigorous intelligent giant MAN it is like a huge fat horse with rheumatic joints which likes lying all day on the hillside listening to its stomach rumble. Anytus called me a parasite, I agree. I am a very special kind of blood-sucker, a gadfly sent by God the Father – who loves you – to sting your fatty complacency and goad you into healthy mental exercize. You need me. I need you. While I live I will not be silenced, so I propose the following punishment. For the rest of my life let me dine in the council refectory next door to this chamber, eating free of charge. Olympic athletes have that privilege – give it to me. My job is more important. That is my final offer.
He goes back to his seat and sits down with folded arms. A storm of hissing and jeers has arisen from most parts of the council chamber. The president stands up, says loudly, –
PRESIDENT: Will the tellers please go to their places . . .
The hissing continues.
PRESIDENT: (distressed) Please shut up. I’ve got something to say that may be out of order but I’ve got to say it . . . listen here!
Silence falls.
PRESIDENT: Isn’t there an explanation for Socrates’ very peculiar attitude? Isn’t there something lacking in him (taps brow) up here? That’s what I think. He seems to have no sense of self preservation. Might that be a reason for . . . preserving him?
Socrates is highly amused. Several jurors shout “Out of order!”
PRESIDENT: (shrugging) Just an idea I had. Alright. Those who want the death penalty raise their right hands.
A forest of hands are immediately raised. The counting process is carried out as formerly, though there can no be no doubt of the verdict. Socrates looks absent-mindedly out over the jurors’ heads, his mouth open as when we first saw him on the hilltop. The President, sighing, addresses the court.
PRESIDENT: Anytus wins by a hundred and forty nine majority. That means five hundred and twenty four of you want him poisoned with hemlock, three hundred and seventy five would rather see him fed at public expense. Is there anything you want to say, Socrates, before we have you jailed? (louder, noticing Socrates still seems absent minded) Socrates! Have you any last words for the Athenian public?
SOCRATES: (rousing himself) Yes, quite a few.
He sits up and talks placidly at first, later becoming animated in a very ordinary way. He is now the only perfectly happy man in the court.
SOCRATES: Do you remember what the old physicist Anaxagoras said when the Athenian people condemned him to death for heresy? He said, “Nature has done that already – and them too.” (he chuckles) But a third of you don’t want me dead so I’d like to cheer those good friends up a bit. Dying won’t hurt me. A man is only badly hurt by his own bad actions and death now may do me good. I’m seventy and still intelligent, but in a few years I might have gone stupid and started setting bad examples, like many old people do. Remember too that mine will be a civilized execution. Instead of being left to rot in a dungeon or nailed to a cross I will die among friends, drinking painless poison while at rest in a clean bed. As for after death, nobody alive knows anything about it and it’s stupid to fear what we don’t know. Death is either endless, dreamless sleep – a remarkably good thing as all people who can’t sleep know – or something different that is equally good. If our souls are immortal and live after our body dies they must have lived before it was born, so we have all lived many lives, died many deaths and will continue doing it. May I remind you that Hell is not part of every religion? Greeks only started imagining it when we began working slaves to death in our silver mines. I haven’t exploited anyone so I’m not worried.
Now some words of comfort to you who want me dead. One day most of you will be sorry you voted for it, and when that time comes please don’t think you were very wicked or unusually stupid. Folk who think that are as mistaken as those who think they’re very wise and good. Just remember that when you thought you were freeing Athens from a dangerous enemy you were really losing a useful friend. And smile, rather sadly, at how ignorant you were but don’t get upset! You will only have “enthroned me” – as Homer says – “in death’s impregnable castle.” I think that’s all I want to say.
He turns round, sees two officials waiting to arrest him, turns back to the jury with raised arm.
SOCRATES: Stop! I’ve remembered something. Come here Aeschines. (Aeschines, notebook in hand, approaches) This worthy fellow has for years been trying to write down everything he hears me say – that young fellow Plato has started doing it too. They think they can become philosophers by studying my words, but they can’t. We can only be philos
ophers by studying ourselves. No great cleverness is needed, I proved that. What you do is look carefully into yourself and think hard about what you see there. The only help you need is the good-humoured conversation of friends who don’t want to flatter you. Men of Athens! Men of Greece! Men of the World, don’t let philosophy become a thing experts lecture on – if that happens it will lose all value, become just another tool people use to get money or social promotion. The only true philosopher is the honest lover. Remember that. No, DON’T remember it, discover it together with others. Goodbye. No! Stop a minute! (scratches his head) Jail is a bit like hospital and a whole month will elapse before my big operation. I will be delighted to receive visitors with a taste for dialectical conversations about truth, beauty and goodness. Handsome young men will be specially welcome of course, but I don’t need more than one in a company of five or six. Nobody will be turned away on grounds of age, appearance or low income. And as usual, there will be no charge. Thank you.
He turns and walks off stage between the officials followed by Aeschines, Plato and other disciples who surround and obscure his cheerful, animated person. The President mingles with the jurors who start drifting towards an anteroom where they will be paid. Anytus, having been congratulated by friends on the success of his action, sits for a while, brooding on how the issue of the trial will affect forthcoming elections.
Life with Zoe has been much nicer since I forbade her to bring dangerous people home. Nothing much is open in Glasgow after Hogmanay so yesterday, feeling we ought to be more companionable, I taught her after a late breakfast to play cribbage.62 We played all afternoon and evening without once stopping to eat, though shortly before ten she insisted on going out and bringing back fish and chips from McPhee’s. When at last we went to bed she had beaten me several times and asked if more than two could play. Four, I told her. She suggested that later in the month she might bring back some pals for a game with us. I asked what kind of pals. She laughed and said, “Don’t worry – none that will pull knives on you.”
Old Men in Love Page 29