y described, he is the
gadfly who stirs the generous steed into motion. Why then has he never
taken part in public affairs? Because the familiar divine voice has
hindered him; if he had been a public man, and had fought for the right,
as he would certainly have fought against the many, he would not have
lived, and could therefore have done no good. Twice in public matters
he has risked his life for the sake of justice--once at the trial of
the generals; and again in resistance to the tyrannical commands of the
Thirty.

But, though not a public man, he has passed his days in instructing
the citizens without fee or reward--this was his mission. Whether his
disciples have turned out well or ill, he cannot justly be charged with
the result, for he never promised to teach them anything. They might
come if they liked, and they might stay away if they liked: and they
did come, because they found an amusement in hearing the pretenders to
wisdom detected. If they have been corrupted, their elder relatives (if
not themselves) might surely come into court and witness against him,
and there is an opportunity still for them to appear. But their fathers
and brothers all appear in court (including 'this' Plato), to witness
on his behalf; and if their relatives are corrupted, at least they
are uncorrupted; 'and they are my witnesses. For they know that I am
speaking the truth, and that Meletus is lying.'

This is about all that he has to say. He will not entreat the judges to
spare his life; neither will he present a spectacle of weeping children,
although he, too, is not made of 'rock or oak.' Some of the judges
themselves may have complied with this practice on similar occasions,
and he trusts that they will not be angry with him for not following
their example. But he feels that such conduct brings discredit on the
name of Athens: he feels too, that the judge has sworn not to give away
justice; and he cannot be guilty of the impiety of asking the judge to
break his oath, when he is himself being tried for impiety.

As he expected, and probably intended, he is convicted. And now the tone
of the speech, instead of being more conciliatory, becomes more
lofty and commanding. Anytus proposes death as the penalty: and what
counter-proposition shall he make? He, the benefactor of the Athenian
people, whose whole life has been spent in doing them good, should at
least have the Olympic victor's reward of maintenance in the Prytaneum.
Or w