The Fifth Desk · Evaluation
Act I · The Map
Plato · three speeches by Socrates at his trial · Stephanus 17a to 42a · Athens, the trial of 399 BC; composed in the years after it, the date unknown · scored on Plato’s Greek, read from knowledge; no text in hand, Greek quoted only where its words are certain, with Grube’s translation as revised by Cooper for sense
Mode
Forensic oratory turned against itself: a defence that disowns eloquence, a cross-examination in open court, a refusal of pity, a counter-penalty that proposes reward
Mythos
The Delphic oracle and the labours it sets; Achilles choosing death over disgrace; the soldier who will not leave his post; the gadfly on a large and sluggish horse; the daimonion that only forbids; death as a dreamless sleep or a journey to the dead
Phase
One trial in 399 BC: the defence, the verdict, the counter-penalty, the sentence, and the farewell, first to those who condemned and then to those who acquitted
Presentation
Three prose speeches in the first person by Socrates, with one passage of dialogue, the cross-examination of Meletus; Stephanus pages 17a to 42a, about twenty-five pages
Register
Plain speech professed and composed with the closest art: irony, the forensic formulas parodied, the comedy of cross-examination, and at the close a plain gravity
Scale
One court and one man before it, with the city, its wars and its two regimes, poets and craftsmen, the gods and the dead in his account
Governing Proposition
In 399 BC Socrates, a man of seventy who has never before been in a court, speaks in his own defence against the charge that he corrupts the young. He tells the jurors that the god at Delphi said no one was wiser than he, and that he has spent his life testing the oracle by questioning those thought wise, and finding them wiser only in thinking they know. He questions his accuser in court, says he will not stop philosophising, refuses to bring his children weeping, is convicted by a margin of thirty votes, proposes as his penalty free meals at the city’s expense, is sentenced to death, and takes his leave. The wager of the work is that a defence speech can be the portrait of a life, and that the life is shown true by holding, unchanged, through the verdict it brings on itself.
Act II · The Essay
Movement I
The work begins in the court, with no frame and no narrator. Socrates speaks, and his first sentence is a profession of ignorance: “hoti men humeis, ō andres Athēnaioi, peponthate hupo tōn emōn katēgorōn, ouk oida”
“how you, men of Athens, have been affected by my accusers, I do not know” (17a). The trial is of 399 BC; the work was written in the years after it, at a date unknown, usually placed in the 390s. It runs from 17a to 42a in Stephanus’ pages, about twenty-five of them, and it is three speeches, of which the defence, from 17a to 35d, is by far the longest.
The exordium (17a to 18a) is about speaking. The forensic exordium was the orator’s bid for the jurors’ favour; this one disowns eloquence. Socrates says he will speak plainly and say only what he believes (17b to c), and he states there the law the work keeps to its last sentence. The disclaimer is said at some length, and it is itself made with the closest art: the speech that professes plainness is composed in every clause.
He turns first not to the men who brought the charge but to what he calls his first accusers, the old slander (18a to 20c). Aristophanes’ Clouds is named. The jurors are already restless: the plea not to make an uproar, which will come again (20e, 30c), builds the hostile crowd into a speech that only one man delivers.
Movement II
To explain where the slander came from, Socrates tells of the oracle (21a to 23b). The god at Delphi said that no one was wiser than he. He set out to refute the god by finding someone wiser. He went to the politicians, then to the poets, then to the craftsmen, the three classes he examined, and in each he found men who thought they knew what they did not. He was wiser, he concluded, only in this: that he did not think he knew.
He calls these inquiries labours (22a), and the word sets the hero’s pattern on the whole speech: a riddling oracle, a task set by a god, a search that costs the searcher. The oracle is the warrant for the life. Without it the questioning of Athens’ notable men is impertinence; with it the questioning is obedience. Every later part of the defence rests on this one.
The account is short, a few pages of the twenty-five, and it does the work of a narration in a forensic speech, telling what happened. But what it tells is the origin of a vocation, and the jurors are asked to accept that the charge against him is the price of a duty. The same claim will meet its test after the vote, when the man who says he serves the god is asked to name his own penalty.
Movement III
Then Socrates turns to Meletus, the accuser in court, and questions him (24c to 28a). It is the only passage of dialogue in the work and the one place where the method is shown rather than described. Socrates does to his accuser, before the jurors, what he is charged with doing to the young. The name is turned against its bearer: the man who brings a charge about the care of the young is shown never to have cared about them.
The questioning runs on past what the defence needs. Socrates proves that no one corrupts willingly (25c to 26a), a sophistic argument that wins the point and spends the goodwill of anyone listening. Then comes the trap, about believing in the children of gods but not in gods, argued through horses and their trainers and the demigods as children of gods (27b to e). The argument is comic and, in places, pedestrian.
The passage is the work’s method and its cost together. It is unfair, and the unfairness is part of why the jury votes as it does. It is also the one demonstration, in the speech, of the practice for which the speaker is on trial, and it shows what the method does to the one examined. The defence that disowns cleverness here wins by cleverness, and the work does not hide it.
Movement IV
Done with Meletus, Socrates sets the danger of death against the life he has led. He sets beside himself Achilles, who chose death over disgrace (28c to d), and with the soldier who will not leave the post where his commander set him (28d to 29a). He held his post at Potidaea, Amphipolis and Delium (28e); he will not leave the post the god has given him. If the court would acquit him on condition that he stop philosophising, he would not stop (29c to d): he will obey the god rather than the court (29d), and he will go on urging every citizen to care for the soul (29d to 30b).
He is, he says, a gadfly sent by the god to wake a large and sluggish horse (30e). Why then has he kept out of politics? Because the daimonion, the sign that only ever forbids, has turned him from it (31c onward); and his record under both regimes, the democracy at the time of Arginusae and the oligarchy of the Thirty in the matter of Leon of Salamis (32a to e), answers the charge that a man who keeps out of politics is a coward or a partisan.
The defence closes on the matter of witnesses, and Plato names himself among those present in court (34a). Then the refusal: Socrates has three sons, and he will not bring them weeping to move the jurors (34c to 35b). The appeal for pity was the forensic speech’s last resort, and he declines it. The defence ends at 35d, having turned every convention of its form against itself.
Movement V
He is convicted. Had thirty votes gone the other way, he says, he would have been acquitted (36a). Asked to propose a penalty, he proposes what a man who has served the city as he has deserves: free meals in the Prytaneum (36b to 37a). It is the hinge of the work. The man who said he would not change his ways does not change them after the vote, and before the penalty is settled he says “ho de anexetastos bios ou biōtos anthrōpōi”
“the unexamined life is not worth living for a human being” (38a). In the end he offers a fine of thirty minae, with Plato named among the sureties (38b). He is sentenced to death.
The last speech (38c to 42a) is in two parts: to those who voted to condemn him (38c to 39d), and to those who voted to acquit (39e to 42a). To the second he speaks of death. It is either a dreamless sleep, which would be gain, or a journey to where one may question Homer and Hesiod, Palamedes and Ajax (40c to 41c). No evil comes to a good man, living or dead (41d). At the close he commends his three sons to the jurors (41e).
Then the close: “alla gar ēdē hōra apienai, emoi men apothanoumenōi, humin de biōsomenois; hopoteroi de hēmōn erchontai epi ameinon pragma, adēlon panti plēn ē tōi theōi”
“now it is time to go, I to die and you to live; which of us goes to the better thing is unclear to all but the god” (42a). The speech that opened with “I do not know” ends with an uncertainty given to the god. The death itself is told elsewhere, in the Phaedo; this work ends at the courtroom door, with the post kept.
Act III · The Twelve
Take out any of the three speeches and the work stops being what it is. The oracle story (21a to 23b) is the warrant for the whole life: without it the examination is impertinence, with it obedience. The cross-examination of Meletus is required, the one place the method is performed rather than described, on the accuser, in court. The public record (31c to 33a) answers why a man so certain of his duty kept out of politics. The counter-penalty is the hinge, where the proposal of meals in the Prytaneum turns the defence into a refusal to bargain, and the farewell reads the death from the far side of it. Little is idle; some of it is longer than it need be. The cross-examination runs three arguments where one would convict Meletus of never having thought about the young: the horses and their trainers, the proof that no one corrupts willingly (25c to 26a), and the trap about the children of gods that ends in mules born of horses and asses (27d to e). The record under the democracy and the Thirty is a second answer to a question the first has settled, and the round of politicians, poets and craftsmen comes three times to the same result.
Score: 8.8 / 10
The disclosure can be stated, and it holds without Socrates’ god. The one who knows that he does not know is wiser than those who think they know, and the conceit he exposes is that of men competent in a part and presuming on the whole. The fear of death is itself a claim to know what no one knows (29a to b). The city that silences its examiner harms itself more than him; and, in the work’s own sentence, “ho de anexetastos bios ou biōtos anthrōpōi”
“the unexamined life is not worth living for a human being” (38a). It discloses a condition still true: a democracy can kill by lawful process the man whose offence is to ask its citizens what they mean, out of the shame of being asked. These are meanings, not moods, and they are disclosed through action: the man who says them is convicted by thirty votes and does not alter the speech. Held off the top because the account of the soul and of death is a wager, argued as a possibility rather than shown, and because the portrait is an advocate’s: the jurors’ reasons, the Thirty, Critias, Alcibiades, are never given their weight.
Score: 9.3 / 10
The height is gathered in the last speech, and it is among the strongest endings in Greek prose. Death is either a dreamless sleep, which would be gain, or a journey to where one may question Homer and Hesiod, Palamedes and Ajax (40c to 41c); no evil comes to a good man, living or dead (41d); and then the close: “alla gar ēdē hōra apienai, emoi men apothanoumenōi, humin de biōsomenois”
“now it is time to go, I to die and you to live” (42a). Earlier heights recur once the stakes are named: Achilles choosing death over disgrace (28c to d), the refusal of an acquittal bought with silence (29c to d), the gadfly (30e), the refusal to bring three sons weeping before the court (34c to 35b), and the proposal of meals in the Prytaneum, a comic sublime. Held at 8.8 by frequency: for most of its length the work is argument at the pitch of conversation, the oracle story dry, the cross-examination comic, the public record testimony, and its elevation there is moral steadiness rather than transport.
Score: 8.8 / 10
One mythic structure is built, and it bears the load: the oracle. The god’s word that no one is wiser is a riddle, and the first speech is the quest to solve it, inquiries Socrates himself calls labours (22a), each ending in the same discovery, until the riddle is read: the wisest is the one who knows his wisdom is worth nothing. The quest then governs the action. He cannot stop because the god has posted him; the daimonion, the sign that only ever forbids, turns him from politics; and in the farewell he means to keep the mission among the dead. It stays particular throughout: a man of seventy, a named accuser, thirty votes, thirty minae. Held below 9.0 because outside the oracle quest the myth comes as comparison. Achilles, the soldier at his post, the gadfly on a large and sluggish horse (30e), Palamedes and Ajax unjustly judged are figures in a forensic speech, evoked rather than built; and the archetype of the just man condemned by his city is completed outside this work, for the death is told in the Phaedo, and this myth ends at the courtroom door.
Score: 8.9 / 10
The inheritance is Attic forensic oratory, Antiphon, Andocides and Lysias, with its exordium, narration, proofs and appeal for pity; the model defence already existed in Gorgias’ Defence of Palamedes, and Palamedes is named in the work (41b). The Socratic literature grew up after 399 too: Xenophon wrote his own Apology, and Polycrates’ prosecution pamphlet answered such works. The swerve is the defence that refuses to defend, turning every convention against itself: an exordium that disowns eloquence and means it, proofs that become cross-examination, a refusal of the appeal for pity (34c to 35b), a counter-penalty that proposes reward, and a defeat made the proof of the case. The defence speech becomes the self-portrait of a philosophical life. The stake was real: Plato wrote within a few years of the execution, in the city that ordered it, and named himself present (34a). Held at 8.7 because the instrument is the courts’ own and the Palamedes precedent is close; the swerve is in the use, not the mould, and Plato’s larger departure was the dialogue, which this work largely sets aside.
Score: 8.7 / 10
Change the form and the knowledge goes. The work knows that philosophy is answerable to the city and that the city’s answer is a vote, and only a speech at trial can say it: the audience is the jury, and the reader is placed among the voters. The speech is addressed to the men of Athens until the end, when Socrates gives the title “ō andres dikastai”
“men of the jury” (40a) to those who voted to acquit, since only they have judged. The two unspoken votes are the form’s hinges: the defence that could not persuade becomes, after the verdict, a speech that no longer needs to, and after the sentence one that addresses two juries apart. In the Meletus passage the practice on trial is performed inside the form that condemns it, and the jurors’ unheard noise (20e, 30c) builds the hostile crowd into the monologue. Recast as a dialogue, the work loses the city as listener; recast as narrative, it loses the reader’s place on the jury. Held off the top because the middle of the defence, from 31c to 35d, slackens into the forensic container.
Score: 9.1 / 10
Evidence over some twenty-four centuries, and the questions stay open. Is the profession of ignorance sincere or ironic, and how does it square with the knowledge claimed at 29b and the certainty that no harm comes to a good man? Does Socrates seek acquittal, or, as Xenophon’s Apology suggests, prefer to die? How does the man who would disobey a court that ordered him to stop philosophising (29c to d) agree with the Socrates of the Crito, who will not break the city’s laws? What is the daimonion? Does the work defend democracy or indict it? Each has a large literature, and every age that argues about conscience and the state reads the work anew: as Stoic exemplum, as Christian prefiguration, in Montaigne’s “Of Physiognomy”, in Hegel and in Kierkegaard’s The Concept of Irony (1841), in Nietzsche against Socrates, in Arendt on thinking and politics, in Gregory Vlastos on Socratic irony and in I. F. Stone’s The Trial of Socrates (1988). Held below the top because the work is short and its arguments, once grasped, can be stated, and part of what passes for its depth, how much is Socrates and how much Plato, is a question about history rather than a yield of the text.
Score: 9.1 / 10
The field is Greek prose of the early fourth century BC, Attic oratory, history and the new Socratic literature, and with it philosophy as it was then forming; the work is weighed on literature and thought both. Its intrinsic force: it made philosophy a way of life answerable to a divine command rather than to the majority, set its first-person justification in public before the city, and made the examined life and the knowledge of one’s ignorance the measure of what philosophy is. Achieved reach, named: it fixed the image of Socrates for antiquity and after; it stands behind the Stoic and Cynic exempla, the Socrates of Cicero and Seneca, and the Christian apologists, Justin Martyr setting Socrates beside Christians condemned for impiety and taking the genre’s name, Tertullian’s Apologeticum after him, Newman’s Apologia pro Vita Sua centuries later; then Montaigne on death, and the modern defence of conscience and free inquiry against the state, from Mill’s On Liberty, which invokes the trial, to King’s “Letter from Birmingham Jail”, which names Socrates and the gadfly. Held at 9.1 because much of that reach belongs to the figure of Socrates more than to this text, and is shared with the Phaedo, the Crito and the Socrates of other hands.
Score: 9.1 / 10
Weighed on form, then presence, over some twenty-four centuries. The text survives whole, transmitted in the Plato corpus through late antiquity and Byzantium in medieval manuscripts, and was printed in the Aldine Plato of 1513 and in Stephanus’ edition of 1578, whose pages give its references; nothing is charged to form. Presence is of the widest kind: read in Greek without a break in the East, its close put into Latin by Cicero, and since the Renaissance read, translated and cited without interruption; it is now among the most taught texts of ancient prose and the usual first reading in philosophy across much of the world. Its surface is fixed to Athenian procedure, the counter-penalty, the water clock, the minae, and that is history: the work is read for what it pressed on. What sets it at the lower part of the figure for a text read whole for millennia is the Latin West, where it went unread for most of the Middle Ages, when only the Timaeus and, late, the Meno and Phaedo were in Latin, until Ficino’s translation of the whole corpus, printed in 1484. The text was never lost and lived in Greek throughout.
Score: 9.5 / 10
Judged on Plato’s Attic. The command is of a plain style made a weapon. The first sentence, “hoti men humeis, ō andres Athēnaioi, peponthate hupo tōn emōn katēgorōn, ouk oida”
“how you, men of Athens, have been affected by my accusers, I do not know” (17a), opens with a profession of not knowing and so states the theme of the whole in its first clause; the disclaimer of eloquence is itself eloquence, and the work knows it. The voice holds one register through comedy, testimony, defiance and consolation, and a man is drawn complete by his manner of speech, never described. The turns are timed: the Prytaneum proposal follows the verdict without a pause, the farewell divides the two juries, and the last sentence balances “I to die” against “you to live” and ends on the god. Held at 9.0 because the making is uneven within the work: the cross-examination wins by trap rather than argument, the horses and their trainers and the mules of 27d to e among it; the round of the examinations (21b to 22e) is schematic; and the middle of the defence, from 31c to 35d, runs on in forensic routine.
Score: 9.0 / 10
One law governs the whole: the god’s command to examine, and the care of the soul before everything else (29d to 30b). Socrates states his part of it at the outset, that he will speak plainly and say only what he believes (17b to c), and gives it its form at 29d: “peisomai de mallon tōi theōi ē humin”
“I shall obey the god rather than you”. Take the two most distant elements, the comic trap that ends in Meletus’ mules and the farewell’s hope of questioning Palamedes and Ajax among the dead. They obey the same law: the mission continues past death, and the comedy of the cross-examination is the same act as the eschatology. The old slanders, the soldier’s post, the refusal of pity and the proposed reward are all applications of it. The apparent contradictions a severe reader presses resolve under it: the knowledge disclaimed is of the greatest things, the knowledge claimed (29b) is of what the mission forbids. Held at 9.0 because the range, though it spans comedy and death, is a single speaker’s on a single occasion, and narrowness is not coherence.
Score: 9.0 / 10
Judged at the speech’s scale, where it holds more than its length suggests, and all of it joined by one trial: the soul and its care (29d to 30b); the city, its courts and the Council; democracy and the oligarchy of the Thirty; war, at Potidaea, Amphipolis and Delium (28e); the gods, the oracle and the charge of new divine things; politicians, poets and craftsmen, the three classes examined, and the comic stage of the Clouds; the family, three sons kept from the court and commended to the jurors at the close (41e); death and what may follow it. They are integrated, not listed: each is weighed by the question of what a life is answerable to. What holds the axis lowest of the twelve is that every order passes through one speaker on one day: there is one person in depth, no woman speaks or is named, nature is absent, and labour is seen only as the craftsmen’s competence.
Score: 8.0 / 10
Act IV · The Reckoning
8.9 / 10 · Final Average
Placement: Tier IV · Canonical
Strongest Dimensions
The Imperishable at 9.5, then The Unconcealment at 9.3, and The Living Form, The Bottomless Well and Pressure on Tradition at 9.1. A text whole and read for some twenty-four centuries, the usual first reading in philosophy; a disclosure that holds, of the wisdom of knowing that one does not know and of the city that kills its examiner; a form that seats the reader on the jury; questions still open; and the founding scene of philosophy, answered from the Stoics and the Christian apologists to Mill and King.
Limiting Dimension
The Encompassed at 8.0, held because every order passes through one speaker on one day, though the soul, the city, its wars, the family, the gods and the dead are all tested there. Next, among the gated axes, The Swerve at 8.7, held because the instrument is the courts’ own and the Palamedes precedent is close; then The Inevitable and The Sublime at 8.8, the first for a cross-examination and a public record longer than they need be, the second for a height gathered in the last third while the long middle is argument, irony and comedy.
The Necessity Cap clears at 8.8 against a threshold of 7.5. The Coherence Floor clears with room: The Living Form at 9.1, The Made at 9.0, The Inner Law at 9.0, each against 7.0. The Epochal Gate is met on all five: The Imperishable at 9.5, The Unconcealment at 9.3, Pressure on Tradition at 9.1, The Archetypal Deep at 8.9 and The Swerve at 8.7 clear the bar of 8.5, the last by two tenths. The Universal Minimum is met (no axis but The Encompassed falls below 8.7, against 7.5), and The Encompassed, which is exempted, clears its own floor of 6.0 at 8.0. Every summit condition is met; the work is held below the summit by its aggregate alone.
Basis · a reading from knowledge of Plato’s Apology of Socrates (Apologia Sōkratous), scored as the text transmitted in Greek: one work, complete, Stephanus pages 17a to 42a, about twenty-five pages, three speeches by Socrates at one trial, not a collection. The trial is of 399 BC; the date of composition is unknown and is usually placed in the 390s. The text survives whole in the medieval manuscripts of the Plato corpus, arranged in tetralogies; it was printed in the Aldine Plato of 1513 and in Stephanus’ edition of 1578, whose pagination gives its references. In the Latin West it returned in Ficino’s translation of the whole corpus, printed in 1484. It is weighed here as philosophy in literary form, its thought through its form. No text was in hand, and no quotation was checked against a file. Every axis is judged on Plato’s Greek. Greek is quoted only where its words are certain, in transliteration, with a close English rendering beneath; references are to Stephanus pages and sections, approximate to within a section. Translations · Grube’s version as revised by Cooper (Hackett), for sense and English; Fowler’s Loeb (1914), for closeness. Neither is quoted, and no translation’s shortfall is charged to the work. The rhythm of Plato’s periods as an Athenian ear would hear them is beyond this reading and is neither credited nor charged. Matters that could not be verified, among them the oldest manuscript witness, the length in words, and whether these are the only places in the corpus where Plato names himself among the living, are not given.