heir own writings, and asked what was the meaning of
them--thinking that they would teach me something. Will you believe me?
I am almost ashamed to confess the truth, but I must say that there is
hardly a person present who would not have talked better about their
poetry than they did themselves. Then I knew that not by wisdom do poets
write poetry, but by a sort of genius and inspiration; they are like
diviners or soothsayers who also say many fine things, but do not
understand the meaning of them. The poets appeared to me to be much in
the same case; and I further observed that upon the strength of their
poetry they believed themselves to be the wisest of men in other things
in which they were not wise. So I departed, conceiving myself to
be superior to them for the same reason that I was superior to the
politicians.

At last I went to the artisans. I was conscious that I knew nothing at
all, as I may say, and I was sure that they knew many fine things; and
here I was not mistaken, for they did know many things of which I
was ignorant, and in this they certainly were wiser than I was. But I
observed that even the good artisans fell into the same error as the
poets;--because they were good workmen they thought that they also knew
all sorts of high matters, and this defect in them overshadowed their
wisdom; and therefore I asked myself on behalf of the oracle, whether
I would like to be as I was, neither having their knowledge nor their
ignorance, or like them in both; and I made answer to myself and to the
oracle that I was better off as I was.

This inquisition has led to my having many enemies of the worst and most
dangerous kind, and has given occasion also to many calumnies. And I
am called wise, for my hearers always imagine that I myself possess
the wisdom which I find wanting in others: but the truth is, O men of
Athens, that God only is wise; and by his answer he intends to show
that the wisdom of men is worth little or nothing; he is not speaking
of Socrates, he is only using my name by way of illustration, as if
he said, He, O men, is the wisest, who, like Socrates, knows that his
wisdom is in truth worth nothing. And so I go about the world, obedient
to the god, and search and make enquiry into the wisdom of any one,
whether citizen or stranger, who appears to be wise; and if he is not
wise, then in vindication of the oracle I show him that he is not wise;
and my occupation quite absorbs me, and I have no t