Old Men in Love

30: THE TRIAL OF SOCRATES

The jurors’ hubbub is interrupted by an official striking a gong, ringing a bell or smiting a board with a mallet. Silence begins to fall as our old friend the farmer, looking like any other venerable citizen, stands up in front of the presidential chair while Anytus and Socrates settle into chairs on each side of him, Socrates sitting comfortably with hands folded on top of the stick between his legs.

PRESIDENT: Men of Athens, the trial is starting! Will that gaggle at the back please shut up? Worse than women some of you. Alright Anytus. State the charge and give your reasons. (He sits.)

Anytus, standing up, speaks calmly, clearly.

ANYTUS: Socrates is a criminal, firstly by not believing in the Gods of our nation; secondly, by preaching a false God of his own; thirdly, by corrupting our young men. If you agree with me then you must also agree that the proper punishment is death.

Men of Athens, we all know Socrates. He’s a charming old fellow, an eccentric, knows the richest men in Athens and dresses like a scarecrow. He’s seventy, a widower remarried with a grownup son and two infants, yet the people he loves most are attractive young men. Most of us were children when he gave up his business and became an expert. He stood about the public places like the others; he talked enthusiastically like the others; he acquired followers just like the others; but he never gave public lectures and nobody knew what he was expert at. The other experts were wise about something — politics, medicine, arithmetic, the stars. Socrates mentioned these but didn’t seem specially keen on any. Most of us thought him an ambitious simpleton, a fool who wanted to be wise but didn’t know how to do it. There was a joke at the time: “What is Socrates wise about?” Answer: “He’s wise about wisdom.” Then one day a disciple of his asked the oracle of Apollo at Delphi who was the wisest man in Greece and the oracle said “Socrates” –

Socrates starts shaking his head from side to side.

ANYTUS: — The joke stopped being funny then, it had become the truth. Why are you shaking your head Socrates, don’t you agree with the oracle?

SOCRATES: The oracle did not say that. A friend of mine asked if anyone in Greece was wiser than me. She said “No.”

ANYTUS: But you agree some people are wiser than others?

SOCRATES: Yes.

ANYTUS: So you must agree that a few must be wiser than the rest?

SOCRATES: Mm. . Yes!

ANYTUS: Of that few two or three will be wisest of all?

SOCRATES: (gravely) I’m afraid you’re right.

ANYTUS: Have you ever been in the company of two or three equally wise men, Socrates? Wasn’t one always wiser than the others? And wasn’t he always you?

Some laughter in court.

SOCRATES: (clapping his hands cheerfully) Well done Anytus!

ANYTUS: (smiling thinly) Charming isn’t he? I agree with the oracle. Socrates is the wisest man. And where does he get his wisdom? His followers say he hears a demon, a voice within his brain or heart or belly — exactly where do you hear it, Socrates?

SOCRATES: I don’t know Anytus, I’m not hot on anatomy.

ANYTUS: (fiercely) Never mind! That demon, that voice is your god, Socrates and beside it the eternal Father of Heaven and lesser gods of our nation are — not your enemies for a man takes his enemies seriously — they’re toys; our gods are toys to you, aren’t they? Aren’t they?

SOCRATES: Well –

PRESIDENT: Wait a minute! Anytus, is that question rhetorical or do you want it answered now?

ANYTUS: Let him answer it in his defence speech.

PRESIDENT: If you direct rhetorical questions to the jury in future you’ll make my job a lot easier.

Anytus nods and addresses the jury, starting quietly.

ANYTUS: If a man lives among us with an extra, perhaps divine source of wisdom how should he use it? I say he should use it to instruct and help people. All the people. If he sees our laws are wrong he should seek to change them by speaking in parliament. If he has friends — and Socrates has many — he can be made a magistrate or ambassador because our democracy has always been able to use superior intelligences. But Socrates prefers to teach special people. Look at his disciples over there! Yes, there’s a ragged coat or two among them but most are rich and half are very young. And what does the Socratic demon teach these rich young men? It teaches them about goodness. Goodness fascinates Socrates like a beautiful child fascinates a pederast. He can’t leave it alone. Mention love, justice, courage and he’s on to you at once. “What is love? What is justice? Are they good? Is goodness not sometimes a badness? Are the things we call bad not sometimes very good indeed?”

Well, I’m no expert, I’m an Athenian citizen who loves his city, so I’ll remind you of the effects of this teaching on rich young men who heard it. Not long ago we lost a great war and a great empire by the treachery of that man’s darling pupil. The Spartans destroyed our democracy and set up a bloody dictatorship of our richest citizens. Three pupils of Socrates were among them and the richest of all was head of it! Never mind! Democracy has been restored and that man is continuing to spread his evil wisdom. Let us hear how he does it. Can I call a witness Mr President?

PRESIDENT: (looking at a paper in his hand) Yes, but I must ask the court to refrain from demonstrations of disapproval. We’ll never get at the truth without some intelligent self-restraint. You’re all Athenians, so show it.

ANYTUS: (loudly) Alcibiades!

Murmurs from the crowd as Alcibiades strolls on stage. Forty, still strikingly handsome in semi-military dress, he stands at ease with fists on hips, facing the jurors and looking slightly amused. He does not look at Anytus who is a little way behind him and equally ignores Socrates, who watches him wistfully.

ANYTUS: I want to summarize your political career.

ALCIBIADES: Why? Evwybody knows it.

ANYTUS: A few have short memories. We used to call you the Darling of Athens. You were the nephew of the great Pericles, and a rich playboy, and a popular war leader.

ALCIBIADES: (ruefully) Long, long ago.

ANYTUS: At the height of the war, when Athens and Sparta were about to sign a peace treaty, you got it rejected by telling both sides a pack of lies.

ALCIBIADES: (sighing) I was ambitious.

ANYTUS: Ambitious, yes. You tricked us into invading Sicily. You led a gigantic army out there which ought to have been defending our empire at home.

ALCIBIADES: Yes, it was a gamble. (smiling) Think how wich we’d have been if we’d won!

ANYTUS: How could we win? You turned traitor and deserted to the Spartans before we even engaged them! Our army was. . (shakes head and shrugs, helplessly). . destroyed. Massacred. Except for the few who were allowed to surrender and become slaves. A few still trickle back to us sometimes. Cripples, with brands on their brows. From the quarries of Syracuse.

Silence in court has almost the pressure of an explosive uproar.

ALCIBIADES: (coolly) I wish I had led that army. It could have won.

ANYTUS: You deserted to the enemy!

ALCIBIADES: Nowhere else to go, old boy. Your lot — the majority party — were sending the police to awest me.

ANYTUS: (loudly) On a charge of heresy! We had proof that you and a parcel of rich young degenerates had been acting obscene parodies of the most sacred ceremony in our religion. The ceremony. . (suddenly, in a low voice). . the ceremony of the mothers.

Over-loud murmurs and cries of disapproval from many jurors the president shouts:

PRESIDENT: Silence! Silence in court!

ALCIBIADES: (out-yelling everyone) Yes it was all twemendous fun!

Shocked silence ensues. Alcibiades turns and looks at Anytus.

ALCIBIADES: What has this to do with Socwates?

PRESIDENT: Tell him, Anytus.

ANYTUS: Socrates was your teacher.

ALCIBIADES: (shrugging) He did his best.

ANYTUS: He was your lover?

ALCIBIADES: If you mean, did he love me? (sighs) Yes, he was like most people in Athens then.

ANYTUS: I think he corrupted you.

ALCIBIADES: (with a pleased grin) Are you talking about sodomy?

ANYTUS: Partly.

ALCIBIADES: (enjoying himself) I see! Well, speaking as a part-time sodomite I’m afwaid I found Socwates disappointing. You may wemember that my good looks in those days were. . wemarkable. (sighs) Never mind. Late one evening I invited him home for a meal. We ate, I sent the slaves away and he talked about beauty, love, wisdom. I was beautiful, he was wise and loved me, so I pwetended to be dwunker than I was. I undwessed and thwew my wobe over both of us. (histrionically) “Do what you like with me!” (matter of factly) You know the sort of thing. But he went on talking about beauty, love and wisdom until I fell asleep. When I woke next morning I might have been sleeping with my father. Yet he loved me, I knew that.

SOCRATES: (who has become cheerful while listening) I still do, Alcibiades!

ALCIBIADES: (still ignoring him) Doesn’t help.

ANYTUS: Did he corrupt you in another way?

ALCIBIADES: (too quickly) Not intentionally.

ANYTUS: Explain that.

ALCIBIADES: (after frowning thoughtfully then smiling suddenly) No.

PRESIDENT: Explain it, Alcibiades! That’s a court order.

Alcibiades, chuckles, shakes head. Socrates raises a hand.

SOCRATES: Can I say something, Mr President?

PRESIDENT: If it’s to the point.

SOCRATES: Forget this trial, Alcibiades. If I’ve hurt you I want to know how. Please tell me about it.

ALCIBIADES: (looking at him for the first time) Here?

SOCRATES: (smiling) This may be the last time you ever see me. Did I once really harm you?

ALCIBIADES: (not bitterly) Yes, vewy much. Before meeting you I thought I was going to be a gweat man. I had vewy foolish confused ideas about how to do it but they were common ideas — most young men have them — and if I’d stuck to them I’d have become an ordinawy politician and militawy leader doing the usual amount of damage and being highly wespected for it. But you made me despise what other people think. When you were talking I felt above all that. You were like wine to me! I knew myself when we were together. When we were apart I was sure of nothing. Well, I’ve often been dwunk but never been alcoholic. I’ve often been in love but never dependent. That’s why I stopped seeing you. It hurt both of us, I suppose –

Socrates smiles and nods.

ALCIBIADES: — I think it hurt me most. After that I knew the only uncommon thing about me is my. . (he makes an effort). . courrrage. Nobody has ever doubted that. I’ve astounded the world with it. Yes, I’ve given people something to talk about. Otherwise I’ve been completely useless.

ANYTUS: And now you’re a common pirate.

ALCIBIADES: (amused) Not common at all. I wun a pwivate shipping concern under the pwotection of the Persian Empewor. He’s a close fwiend of mine. For the time being. (to Socrates, softly, but with an effort) I’m sorry.

SOCRATES: (earnestly) You should have seen more of me, Alcibiades.

ANYTUS: Alcibiades has just made it clear that he would have been happier and a better man if he’d never seen you at all.

ALCIBIADES: (to Socrates, tenderly smiling) I’m afwaid he’s wight.

SOCRATES: (smiling and sitting down) You should have seen more of me.

ANYTUS: You can go, Alcibiades.

Alcibiades leaves the stage and sits where he can see what follows.

ANYTUS: (to the president) There could be a lot more trouble with the next witness.

PRESIDENT: (consulting his paper) Yes, I see. (loudly to the whole court) Listen you lot, listen everyone. We are trying Socrates today. Socrates. Nobody else. Our feelings about the witnesses are irrelevant and should be kept in check, so I am going to ask a favour from each one of you, especially ones with brains in their heads. If a neighbour interrupts proceedings with violent expressions of vocal disgust, gently remind him of his dignity as an Athenian juryman by punching him in the throat, will you?

Laughter in court and some cries of “Yes!” “Alright!”

PRESIDENT: Say it a bit louder, I’m hard of hearing — (Louder cries of agreement) — Good! Otherwise I have to stop the trial. I mean that. Come on Critias, come on.

In dead silence Critias takes the floor, an urbane big whitehaired business and military man.

ANYTUS: (pointing at Socrates) You were a follower of that man?

CRITIAS: I learned a lot from him, if that’s what you mean.

ANYTUS: (nodding) About politics?

CRITIAS: (nodding) It was my business. It is supposed to be every Athenians business, God knows why.

ANYTUS: What did Socrates teach you? We all know what you went on to do, so don’t try to hide what you believed.

CRITIAS: I certainly won’t. Socrates demonstrated, again and again, that we can trust a builder to build, a tradesman to trade and a doctor to heal, but we cannot trust a parliament to govern.

ANYTUS: Why not?

CRITIAS: Because parliamentary skill is all in the mouth. Socrates wanted nations ruled by the best people for the job.

ANYTUS: We all want that, Critias. The problem is choosing them. So Socrates was opposed to democracy?

CRITIAS: He was opposed to slackness, evasion, incompetence and passing the buck. Of course he was opposed to democracy.

Socrates scratches his head. From the jurors comes a rising murmur of disapproval.

ANYTUS: Thank you for being frank. Besides being an aristocrat, a general and a tyrant, you once wrote a play. In it a character said that even if gods did not exist, wise politicians would prop them up like scarecrows, to frighten people into obedience. Did you get that from Socrates?

CRITIAS: Of course not. Politicians have always known that, which is why you are charging Socrates with heresy. You are propping up the gods of the state in order to stay in power and silence your critics. . the clever ones, not most people.

ANYTUS: (vehemently) I believe in the gods! I love the people!

CRITIAS: (amused) And probably most people believe you believe, Anytus. They may even believe you love them. I have fallen from power, I don’t need to pretend.

PRESIDENT: (roughly) Less of the clever stuff, Critias.

ANYTUS: (shouting) Didn’t you write that the Spartan system of government is the best in Greece? And isn’t that the opinion of your master Socrates?

CRITIAS: No. I praised it as the most stable government in Greece. It has lasted two centuries without change so it must be. They also breed the bravest soldiers, one reason why they defeated us. Every Greek knows that.

ANYTUS: No wonder they turned you into our dictator!

CRITIAS: Nonsense, the Spartans are practical men, they wouldn’t trust someone because he’d written something. An agreement with a parliament isn’t worth the paper it’s written on so they signed a treaty with people from the best Athenian families, having made them the government. I became leader because I was the best manager of men among them. Don’t blame Socrates for that. Blame my ancestors. They made me what I am.

ANYTUS: We know how you managed men! Thirty of your best people put fifteen hundred of our people to death without trial.

An uproar of boos, yells and hisses. Critias glances humorously at Socrates as if to say “We understand the mob, don’t we?” Socrates ignores him, frowning thoughtfully. The President stands up.

PRESIDENT: (bellowing) If you don’t!. . Stop this din!. . I will end!. . The trial!. . Now!. . And nobody will get paid!

Many start making “shush” sounds. Uproar lessens, stops.

PRESIDENT: Thanks for your support citizens. The man’s a bastard but we need him to get at the truth. (he sits) Socrates, have you any questions for your. . pupil?

SOCRATES: Critias, you and I often talked about politics so tell the court the truth. I criticized the democracy for pursuing a war we could never win. I also praised the Spartans for the care they took to educate their young. Did I ever praise a government that killed and robbed its own people?

CRITIAS: (grimly) No, I had to learn the practical details for myself.

SOCRATES: Mm! (he sighs) Do you remember ordering the arrest of Theramines? It was six years ago, in this council chamber.

CRITIAS: Yes. (sarcastically) Would it help you if I reminded the court of what happened?

SOCRATES: It might.

CRITIAS: You and a couple of friends got between the condemned man and the police, shouting that Athenians should not kill one another and asking the crowd to help you stop that arrest. Of course the chicken-livered majority stayed clear. If I had been longer in power I would have had to get you killed, too. You criticized my regime, you disobeyed it and that was illogical! You obeyed the orders of a democracy you despised, why inconvenience a friend who was doing the best possible thing?

SOCRATES: What does best mean, Critias?

CRITIAS: Preventing civil war. Everyone wants to forget the conditions in which my party took power. We were managing a conquered and bankrupt state. In other cities the working classes would have starved or emigrated or sold themselves into slavery, but not the free men of Athens! They had been spoiled by two generation of cheap food, full employment, pensions for the disabled and free theatre tickets. Pericles was to blame. He paid for all that out of the Empire. We had no Empire and our workmen had forgotten how to suffer. To prevent rebellion our dictatorship needed money, and fast. We sold the new harbour at a tenth of the building cost. We confiscated the wealth of rich foreigners, then the wealth of rich tradesmen, then the wealth of our critics. Who squealed, or course. So we executed them. Nasty! Very nasty! But we restored the economy and kept Athens intact.

ANYTUS: You kept your fortunes intact! And enlarged them! And you were already our richest citizens!

CRITIAS: Your crowd profited! When you saw our brutal, necessary, unpopular work had stabilized the economy you started a civil war with us, won it and grabbed the credit and the benefits.

SOCRATES: Has this argument anything to do with me?

CRITIAS: Not much. Your notions led me into politics but they were no good once I arrived there.

SOCRATES: (placidly) Thank you, Critias.

ANYTUS: Yes, thank you, Critias! The jury will note that Socrates led you into politics but stayed firmly outside them.

SOCRATES: (placidly) Bravo, Anytus.

Critias retires.

ANYTUS: I thank God that Alcibiades and Critias — the traitor and the dictator — are figures from the dead past. Which doesn’t mean they won’t come back — if we aren’t very careful. Meanwhile, since most of us have sons, let us see his effect on a young fellow of today. (yelling) Come here Phoebus!

From the edge of the group of Socrates’ friends a thin, dishevelled figure detaches himself and slouches onto the stage. He bows mockingly once or twice to the jury then hunches his shoulders, folds his arms and looks up sideways at his father with a mixture of fear and obstinacy.

ANYTUS: Tell the jury what you feel about me.

PHOEBUS: (gently) I. . I hate you, Dad.

ANYTUS: (nodding) Tell the jury why.

PHOEBUS: You’re a rich man, Dad. You could afford to give me a horse. Why should I work in your stinking tannery handling their hides?

ANYTUS: I did that when I was your age. Tell them why you hate honest toil.

PHOEBUS: I’d rather. . learn, yes learn about. . things.

ANYTUS: (glaring at Socrates) What things?

PHOEBUS: Reasons, mainly. Why make shoe leather if I haven’t exactly found what feet are for? Walking, of course, everybody knows that but walking where? Nobody really knows where they’re going or what living is for. I want to see more life before I make a living. The sons of rich men usually do. Beauty, geometry, tragedy, racehorses, you can afford to give me some, why don’t you?

ANYTUS: (harshly) And Socrates?

PHOEBUS: I love him as much, almost, as I hate you. (he laughs uneasily) He doesn’t jeer when I say things but I mostly just listen. Anybody can do that, nobody has to pay. He’s very like me. He knows you dads and bosses and bullies are a lot of shams. That’s why you’re afraid of us. He thinks a lot, but he doesn’t take thinking seriously, he listens to his demon, like I do. Though he’s luckier than me. My demon says some very nasty things. (he shivers) He drinks too, does Socrates, wine by the bucket and never gets drunk, they say. Just like me. None of you have noticed I’m drunk. Have you? Couldn’t have. Come here. Otherwise (to Socrates, quietly) would you ask him to let me go home?

Socrates makes a small gesture of appeal to Anytus, who continues glaring at him stonily. Phoebus looks pleadingly to his father, then the president, then the jury who he addresses wildly and feebly.

PHOEBUS: Men of Athens, what is matter? Why is there pressure? Single uniform unchanging solid concentric whirlpools of energy, Socrates is calm about that because nothing matters, money, clothes, work, people, politics, Gods are all filth to him that’s why he’s calm, no? (he looks at Socrates) — Not now. Now he’s looking calm but I can see he’s not. Why have you stopped being calm, Socrates? (aghast) Are you starting to think I’m dreadful too?

ANYTUS: (desperately yelling) Do you want to ask the witness any questions?

Socrates looks with deep pity on father and son who both now look gaunt and dishevelled.

SOCRATES: (gently) Let him go home Anytus.

Anytus waves his hand and Phoebus stumbles off. With an effort, Anytus brings his emotions under control and addresses the jury.

ANYTUS: I have one thing in common with my son. My appearance here is unattractive. I am asking for the death of a cheerful, vigorous, charming, charming old man but you know I’m not bloodthirsty. I drew up the act of oblivion by which nobody in Athens is punished for his political past and that act is still in force. I called Alcibiades and Critias to remind you of the sickness Socrates is spreading around him even now. It is doubt — doubt of the great simple truths our mothers and fathers taught us — respect for God and respect for law. If this doubt is wisdom; it is evil wisdom which cannot come from God because it destroys ordinary people’s understanding. Those who have heard him argue know what I mean. By steps which seem so sensible you can’t remember them afterwards he brings you to admit that nothing you’re sure of is right. A paralysis creeps over your brain. Mature citizens know what to do, they leave him and don’t come back. But if you’re young you’re in danger. Young men attract him and he attracts them! This numbing of the thinking process, this rational destruction of reason releases the demon in them, the demon which is normally held down by the laws of God and the laws of our state. So, as you have seen, the brave young soldier becomes a reckless traitor. And the practical businessman becomes a ruthless tyrant. And weaklings become selfish, shameless parasites and spongers. As for his intellectual disciples, once again, look at them! Look at that. . crowd! (he points) Our great comic playwright described them — “They disagree with each other but have one thing in common — they fit in with nobody else.” Socrates is now going to speak to you. Don’t let his charm distract you from what you know already. Don’t let his eloquence make you forget what you have seen here, just now! (he points at Socrates, who stares back in astonishment) I fear that man, because I honour God and love civilization! I ask you to defend Athens, her religion and her sons by silencing him.

Loud, civilized applause. The president has been greatly impressed by Anytus’ peroration.

PRESIDENT: Your turn Socrates. Defend yourself.

Socrates stands, leans sideways on his stick and scratches his head.

SOCRATES: I don’t know, men of Athens, how that speech struck you but it convinced me, before I remembered the chap Anytus was supposed to be denouncing is me. He didn’t. He warned you against my eloquence, I’ve got none, that’s why I hardly ever pipe up in parliament. This is my first speech to such a huge number, and please don’t worry about my famous charm. Perhaps I could charm you all if I had more time but Athenian trials are rapid affairs. In Sparta, now, a trial on a capital charge takes two or three days –

Some disapproving murmurs and one cry of “Boo!” from the jurors.

SOCRATES: (snapping fingers) Blast! I shouldn’t have said that! Mr President, you see what a child I am in legal matters: please tell the jury to forget I said something good about Sparta!

PRESIDENT: (rolling up his eyes and sighing) Just defend yourself, Socrates.

SOCRATES: (humbly) I’ll try. I was pleased to hear Anytus say some true things about the days when I was a young fellow of forty and regarded, quite correctly, as a simpleton who wanted to be wise but didn’t know how. What turned a tongue-tied stupid stonemason into the famous, extraordinary me? How did a National Service private with a habit of sleeping on his feet become the money-grubbing pederast you’ve seen caricatured on the stage by my pal Aristophanes: the menace to civilization who terrifies Anytus; the buffoon of Athens, as some folk call me; the wise man of Greece — if you’d rather believe Apollo, God of sunlight and harmony? That isn’t a rhetorical question. Shall I answer it?

Someone yells “Get to the point!” Socrates nods, sits on the edge of the stage with his legs dangling and says in an ordinary voice:

SOCRATES: Alcibiades made me a philosopher. I met him in the army at the start of the war and I loved that beautiful man. I wanted to fascinate him, delight him, give him something great to remember me ever afterwards by. And I had nothing to give. Nothing at all. (he stares at the palms of his hands) A stonemason. Ugly. Shy. Until I spoke to him. And then I was inspired. (he looks at the jury) Love inspires us all, of course. It gives some people the strength to support a husband, a wife, a family for years and years and years. Love never made me as strong as that — I support my wife and children on handouts from friends — but the love which makes others strong made me see things clearly, yes it did. Anytus says my wisdom is evil, that’s daft. If I do evil then what Anytus calls my wisdom is only cleverness — there are many clever men in Athens but I’m not one. Only love could have taught me the wise trick I played on Alcibiades. I had nothing of my own to attract him so I gave him back the lovely thing he was giving me: the vision of his own true splendid self.

ANYTUS: (loudly and coldly) Toady! Sycophant! Arselicker!

Disapproving cries of “Yes!” “That’s right Anytus!” “Boo!” from the jurors, during which Socrates rises and stumps cheerfully up and down before the stage.

PRESIDENT: You’re out of order, Anytus!

SOCRATES: No he isn’t, I like a bit of friendly badinage. But he’s missed the point, as usual. I couldn’t make Alcibiades love me for ever by flattering him — (he points to Alcibiades with his stick) — by the way, you still love me, don’t you?

ALCIBIADES: (laughing with appreciation at the show) Yes!

SOCRATES: (laughing and smiling) Yes! (to the jury) You see, arselicking or flattery, as some people call it, is praising a man for something he’s proud of. It can never please for very long because we all know, in our hearts, that we are only proud of the rubbishy bits of ourselves — the parts we would be better off wothout. A short while ago Alcibiades stood on that very spot — (points with stick) — and very solemnly told us his uncommon courage had astounded the world. And nobody laughed! I was so amazed that I couldn’t. (points stick) Him? Alcibiades? Courageous? Because he gambled with an army and lost it? A gambler can’t be brave! If he wins people are fascinated. If he loses people are fascinated. Either way he gets what he wants, which is people saying, Oo aren’t you wonderful, oo aren’t you wicked! Alcibiades the daring gambler is rubbish! Just rubbish! The true Alcibiades I love knows it — when he listens to me. I love him because he’s lonely and desperately humble. The men of Athens praised him because he was wild and glamorous. Who flattered him, you or me? Fancy putting a child of twenty-five in charge of an army then blaming him when he runs away!

ANYTUS: He was not a child! We followed him because he tricked us! He made us think his allies were rich by showing treasure chests full of broken pottery with a layer of gold on top!

SOCRATES: You must have been very keen to be fooled if you were fooled by a schoolboy prank like that. I honestly thought a democratic majority would have more sense, but when my darling stood up in parliament and announced his grandiose cheeky, world-conquering scheme most of you acted like a Persian Emperor gone gaga. Instead of laughing at him you idiots voted for him!

Loud cries of annoyance from jurors. Socrates climbs on stage again, raises a hand, and shouts at them: —

SOCRATES: Men of Athens, were you blind? Did you not see where Alcibiades’ talent lay? He gave me a new kind of wisdom which I have given to the world. Throughout Greece clever professors are calling me the father of moral philosophy — Alcibiades was father. I’m the mother of moral philosophy. Of course like many fathers he refused to acknowledge the child, but I blame you idiots for that –

Protesting cries become uproar. Socrates climbs up on his chair and points with his stick.

SOCRATES: (yelling) Men of Athens, I accuse you of seducing, corrupting and perverting my darling! If you’d left him with me he would have become a philosopher, which is what everyone should be, because. .

The jurors’ vocal reactions drown his words. Many boo and shout, many are laughing, many argue vehemently with neighbours. Socrates stands on the chair, both hands folded patiently on the stick-handle, waiting to continue. The president has left his chair and stands conferring with Anytus. Anytus turns to the jury and raises his hands for silence. It gradually happens.

ANYTUS: (sternly) Yes, men of Athens, we are all disgusted by the cynical, facetious abuse that man has heaped on us. But we are here to judge him, and judges should be calm.

PRESIDENT: (huffily) A man must be heard before we condemn him. That’s the law. (he goes back to his seat)

ANYTUS: (reasonably) Outcries only make the trial last longer. Save your anger till it’s time to vote and then show what you think. It’s your vote that matters. (he sits)

SOCRATES: Thank you for that friendly speech, Anytus. (climbs down and wipes his brow) Phew! (to the jury) You had me quite excited there. I could never be a politician — too emotional. (he sits on chair) Well, when Alcibiades left me — for you lot — O, I was depressed. I didn’t realize I’d become a philosopher. Love for him had untied my tongue and let me think aloud. I thought all that would stop now. It didn’t! I discovered I could talk to anyone — pretty young boys, ugly old men — anyone! I’d acquired a gift. But I swear by the great God of Heaven that I did not know I was being wise, I thought I was just finding out what people thought. Those I spoke to kept coming up with astonishing ideas, and saying they had learned them from me. (he chuckles) I’ve never had an original idea in my life! They wrote books, too, and the critics blamed me for those as well. Anytus mentioned Critias’ attack on democracy; he should have mentioned Kairafon’s defence. Kairafon said he learned that from me and the dictators banished him. Anyway, one morning as Homer puts it “A thunderbolt descended from the blue Aegean sky.” (spreading his arms wide) “News from Delphi! Oracle’s Astounding Revelation! Nobody in Greece is wiser than Socrates!” (drops hands, suddenly really puzzled and worried) Nobody wiser than me? But friends, I am like other people! When love and friendship inspire me I have glimpses of beauty and goodness; otherwise there is nothing in here — (taps chest) — nothing but a little voice which sometimes says “No. Don’t do that.”

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.

Many jurors at once raise their hands and then a great many. Anytus paces restlessly back and forth beside his chair. Socrates sits back in his with thoughtfully pursed lips. A few of his disciples glumly imitate his calm, the rest are frankly worried. Court officials, after counting hands and conferring with assistants, confer with each other. One writes figures on a card, gives it to the President.

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 philosophers 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.