 | The Poetic Writings of Thomas Cradock, 1718-1770 |  |
Scene the 3d
The Court of the AreopagusThe Areaopagus was the high judicial tribunal of Athens. Cradock also uses the term to mean a member of the court rather than the more normal Areopagite; for example, see the first speaker of this scene.
The orator's
desk
Melitus, Anitus, Lycon, as accusers of Socrates, with the Athenian populace attending them: After some time enter Socrates, Plato, Crito, Phedon and numbers of the Athenian youth; he gay and cheerful, they under the greatest dejection.
Areopagus
Give out the business of the day.
Crier
reads
Melitus, son of Melitus of the people of Pythos
By people is meant deme or administrative district of Attica. Melitus was from the deme of Pitthus and Socrates from the deme of Alopece.
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Areopagus
Read the accusation.
Crier
Socrates is criminal, because he acknowledges not the gods, that the republick acknowledges; and because he introduces new deities; he is farther criminal, because he corrupts the youth.
Areopagus
Bid Melitus stand forth.
Crier
Melitus son of Melitus of the people of Pythos, appear and prove your accusation against Socrates son of Sophroniscus of the people of Alopece.
Melitus
ascends the Orator's desk and speaks.
Much I'm abash'd, most grave and reverend Senators,
Thus to appear, unequal as I am,
To this important cause, but 'tis the cause
Of Heaven and Athens—and the fervent zeal
That warms my heart for our immortal gods;
That dear regard my native soil demands,
Compel me to accuse the great delinquent.
I say then, Socrates abjures our gods;
He laughs with high contempt as all the honours
We pay to their divinity, and stiles them
Mere empty nothings, creatures of the brain,
The idle dreams of ancient superstition,
Grown sacred from the ignorance of our fathers,
Grown venerable from a length of years.
When was it, Socrates wou'd condescend
T'attend their fanes, and pay that holy reverence
Which their divine protection of our city
Claims from the sons of Athens? He, more wise,
More deeply read in nature and her powers,
Inspir'd, no doubt, with wisdom from above,
Forms to himself a deity unknown,
A being sole, and independent of
All other beings, o'er the world supreme.
To him this God benign communicates
The secrets of his will, to him alone
Unfolds his counsels; and, to guide his steps
To guard him from the frailities of our nature;
T'inform his reason, and inspire his soul,
Directs a special demon to attend him.
This his assertion; vain, presuming man!
Thus he divests those ever-gracious deities,
By whose propitious aid our Athens long
Hath been the pride and wonder of the World,
Of all their virtues, attributes and powers.
Thus to appear, unequal as I am,
To this important cause, but 'tis the cause
Of Heaven and Athens—and the fervent zeal
That warms my heart for our immortal gods;
That dear regard my native soil demands,
Compel me to accuse the great delinquent.
I say then, Socrates abjures our gods;
He laughs with high contempt as all the honours
We pay to their divinity, and stiles them
Mere empty nothings, creatures of the brain,
The idle dreams of ancient superstition,
Grown sacred from the ignorance of our fathers,
Grown venerable from a length of years.
When was it, Socrates wou'd condescend
T'attend their fanes, and pay that holy reverence
Which their divine protection of our city
Claims from the sons of Athens? He, more wise,
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Inspir'd, no doubt, with wisdom from above,
Forms to himself a deity unknown,
A being sole, and independent of
All other beings, o'er the world supreme.
To him this God benign communicates
The secrets of his will, to him alone
Unfolds his counsels; and, to guide his steps
To guard him from the frailities of our nature;
T'inform his reason, and inspire his soul,
Directs a special demon to attend him.
This his assertion; vain, presuming man!
Thus he divests those ever-gracious deities,
By whose propitious aid our Athens long
Hath been the pride and wonder of the World,
Of all their virtues, attributes and powers.
Nor yet content with his own blasphemies,
He lures our youth to listen to his doctrines,
T'imbibe his vile pernicious fatal errors;
He trains them up to sins of horrid kind,
To guilt that wants a name, to monstrous mischiefs.
Him do they follow wildly 'long the streets,
Nor hearken to a parent's kind rebuke,
Nor hearken to their country's solemn voice;
Nay, e'en religion pleads with them in vain;
For Socrates to them is parent, country,
Their god, their all; and madly they're prepar'd
To act all his commands, however wicked,
However fatal to our weal and peace.
These, dear Athenians, these ye rev'rend Judges,
These are the crimes of this all dearing man.
To you, as well becomes me, I shall leave
The Award of his demerits; but if ever
Pernicious citizen deserv'd to die,
If every Athens bore a son ingrate,
Who sought clandestine to undo his country,
To rob her of her liberties and laws,
To innovate her ancient sacred rites,
And level all the objects of her worship,
The son of Sophroniscus is that traitor.
He lures our youth to listen to his doctrines,
T'imbibe his vile pernicious fatal errors;
He trains them up to sins of horrid kind,
To guilt that wants a name, to monstrous mischiefs.
Him do they follow wildly 'long the streets,
Nor hearken to a parent's kind rebuke,
Nor hearken to their country's solemn voice;
Nay, e'en religion pleads with them in vain;
For Socrates to them is parent, country,
Their god, their all; and madly they're prepar'd
To act all his commands, however wicked,
However fatal to our weal and peace.
These, dear Athenians, these ye rev'rend Judges,
These are the crimes of this all dearing man.
To you, as well becomes me, I shall leave
The Award of his demerits; but if ever
Pernicious citizen deserv'd to die,
If every Athens bore a son ingrate,
Who sought clandestine to undo his country,
To rob her of her liberties and laws,
To innovate her ancient sacred rites,
And level all the objects of her worship,
The son of Sophroniscus is that traitor.
Socrates
to his friends
Heavens! what a stranger am I to myself?
242
If Melitus hath search'd my heart so deeply,
And found these dreadful mischiefs lurking there,
Sure never man was more unknown to man
Than Socrates to Socrates.
Melitus
To strengthen
What I've asserted 'gainst this vile deluder,
The worthy Anitus and gen'rous Lycon
Men of sincere affection to the state,
Faithful and active in their country's interest,
Are both prepar'd and willing to support me.
Areopagus
Let them attend, and speak their thoughts with freedom.
Anitus
Small is the trouble I shall give the senate;
I have not learn'd the niceties of speech,
And can but bluntly say what I've to offer.
Nay, tis with great reluctance I appear
Against the man that once I call'd my friend.
But when I see to what irreverent use
His talents are applied; when I observe,
Against those very gods that gave him all
The wondrous faculties he justly boasts,
He lavishes their blessings, and does outrage
To all that we hold sacred and divine,
When the wild listless youth of this great city
Run after him, and catch with eager gape
Each impious tenet he profanely utters;
When Heaven must soon lament it's want of votaries;
And the avenging gods, justly incens'd
At our neglect of their most holy worship,
Will curse this city with severest evils,
Will sink us deep in most deserv'd distress,
In woes more fatal than we've felt already,
Unless we timely hinder the result
Of their tremendous anger, I no more
Look on the ties of friendship to be binding:
243
As you are men of Athens, as you're citizens,
That have the welfare of the state at heart,
To rouse yourselves against these threatening perils,
To clear your city of these novel doctrines,
T'assert your gods, and most severely punish
The man who dares to speak against their power,
That dares deny their providence and being,
Phedon
aside
Poor tender Anitus! his righteous conscience
Can't bear the least infringement on the rites
Of his dear country. Sure his virtuous heart
Is clear from ev'ry stain of base injustice.
Lycon
It is no mean offender, ye Athenians
Today demands your cognisance; if ever
Presumptious man hath dar'd beyond forgiveness
Or of the gods or you, this vain declaimer
Against our hallow'd rites, this mighty reasoner
In speculative knowledge, this arraigner
Of our dread gods is he.—I wou'd be calm,
I wou'd be master of myself, my faculties,
While I lay forth the insolent attempts
Of his insidious heart. But when already
We feel the fatal issue of his conduct,
When even now our gods dart down their vengeance
In fearful bolts of wrath; and Athens mourns
Almost in Ashes their severe displeasure,
Say, can a citizen, can one that Loves
His dear maternal land, command his utterance,
And speak with temper?—O reflect, Athenians,
Consider coolly the successive evils
That long have ravag'd this devoted city;
Then say, if all the gods have not conspir'd
To pour destruction on us.—Why, my countrymen,
Why are we thus the objects of their wrath?
Why? 'Cause an old irreverend dotard lures you
To horrid guilt—grown desperate in impiety,
He charges you with folly in your worship,
Deprives high Heav'n of it's undoubted powers,
244
Are ye asleep, Athenians? Lo! Your youth,
Mad with his baneful dogmas, slight the temples,
No more the consecrated victim bleeds;
No more the solemn vows are paid;—nay further,
He draws them from the duties of relation;
In vain with his ungracious son the father,
In vain the mother, pleads parental cares.
Their children fly their precepts, and return
Unnatural ingratitude—Can this,
Can this be pleasing to the powers divine?
Will Athens flourish, when the holy bond
That shou'd subsist between a child and parent,
Is thus dissolv'd?—Let our experience teach us.
What an abandon'd wretch was Alcibiades?
What a remorseless savage tirant, Critias?
These left their friends to listen to his lore;
These were his pupils; these had long imbib'd
His boasted maxims; these were once his favourites,
And bore the appellation of his sons.
Awake, ye rev'rend Senators; no more
Sleep in the dangers that alarm the state;
Call forth your courage, let your country rouse you;
Be just, be earnest—Heaven and earth conjoin,
And claim your verdict 'gainst this dangerous man.
He will, I know, endeavour to amuse you;
He'll soothe you to forgive him; he'll smooth over
His base detested conduct—but beware—
He hath a winning, a bewitching eloquence;
His words are oil, but oh! there lurks within
Poison of killing force; and, if you hear him,
If to the magick of his tongue you yield,
I can but mourn the ruin of my country,
Shall weep, religion, thy deserted altars,
Shall wail, dear liberty, thy fall in Athens.
Plato
aside
O eloquence, what a pernicious bane
Thy beauties are, when basely they're adapted
To screen a villain, or defame the good.
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Who speaks for the defendant?
Socrates
Even he
That best knows how to answer his accurers
(Plato attempts to mount the desk)
Plato, forbear; thou dost me great injustice
To think I want assistance 'gainst a heap
Of falsehood so absurd; if Athens boasts
An honest senate, I've no cause to fear.
E'en their own hearts will plead with them for Socrates,
And safely guard him 'gainst such frontless malice.
1 Areopagus
Gods! he e'en braves the senate.
2 Areopagus
Let him on
He'll say enough to make him guilty.
Socrates
Whence comes it, ye Athenians, that I am charg'd
With a denial of our country-Gods?
Have I not always worship'd in their temples?
Have I not always bow'd before their altars?
What festal days hath Athens e'er ordain'd
That I have not kept holy? Many are there
Can prove my presence, there, and Melitus,
Had he so will'd, might have observ'd me too.
They say, I introduce new deities:
What are they, Senators? inform me, do.
I own I'm ignorant, unless to say,
The voice of God directs me, is, to assert
Some novel deity you have not known.
They who divine by thunder, they that mark
The notes of birds, the priestess on her tripod,
246
What difference, tell me? only this, that I,
Pious as well as wise, ascribe to Heav'n,
What only they ascribe to second causes,
to mediate powers, whence they derive their Omens.
Alass! no base design, no wicked purpose
Hath ever swayed my heart: if heav'n declares
That I am wise, I sent not Cherephon
To Delphos to enquire; and yet the God
Pronounc'd me more than wise,—both just and free.
But why am I not so? No slave to sense,
Above temptation, faithful to my poverty,
Still searching after knowledge, teaching others
What have I learn'd myself; Is this not wisdom,
Is this not justice, freedom, all that's right,
All that is grateful in the eyes of men,
Nay, I'll go farther, in the eye of Heaven?
Thus many of our citizens have thought,
Thus all the virtuous in the states of Greece
To me they've travell'd; and from me, well-pleas'd,
Imbib'd the maxims of philosophy.
But I corrupt your youth;—What youth corrupted?
Name even one, who with a mind sincere
Ador'd the gods, that I have made an infidel;
Name one remark'd for chaste and modest bearing,
That I have render'd impudent and leud;
Name any sober, frugal, hardy, brave,
That have become debauch'd, or profligate,
Or coward, or effeminate, from pursuing
The rigid path I've pointed to their steps.
Melitus
Many there are, unthinking, heedless youth,
Who, tho' regardless of a parent's will,
Bear most submissive reverence to thee,
And pay thee the submission that they owe
To them alone or Heaven.
Socrates
They have obey'd me
In following virtue; I was their preceptor;
Their parents knew not how to teach them wisdom,
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Who heeds relation in a dangerous fever?
Is it their parent's counsel that they take
Or the Physician's? In the trade of war,
The general's skill, and not his friends are weigh'd.
Instruction is my province; therefore justly
Submissive reverence from them is my due.
Is this a cause, why I shou'd suffer death?
Is this so dread an evil to the state,
That nothing but my life can recompence
The mischiefs I have done?—Speak, Anitus;
Speak, Lycon, Melitus—but, O my judges,
Let them succeed; they hurt not Socrates
Death bears to me no terrors.—who can say,
Whether he is an happiness or evil?
But he that dreads him, for that very reason
Can not be wise—however he may palliate
His servile fears—his soul's estrang'd from wisdom.
The Areopagus consult for some time, and by their Suffrages bring him in guilty.
Areopagus
The justice of the senate, Socrates.
Hath found thee guilty; and thy punishment
By law is death—However, if thou'lt
Pay the fine awarded, thou'rt allow'd to live.
Socrates
A fine? for what Athenians? I a fine?
Yours is uncommon justice—Innocence
Hath ever sway'd my conduct; and no guilt
Cleaves to my soul; and she shall ne'er upbraid me,
That, dastard-like, I'd meanly save a life
I ever held indifferent at the forfeit
Of what I hold most dear, my fame and virtue.
Plato
O Socrates, have pity on your friends,
Your relatives, your country—curb a little
This grandeur of thy soul; impartial men
248
May yet be long a blessing to the world.
Socrates
No, Plato; were the wealth of Athens mine,
I wou'd not buy my life so basely from them.
But since they're in suspence, myself will rate
My services—be this my punishment.
As I've been ever faithful to my country:
Have frelly shed my blood in her defence,
And sav'd her noblest citizens from death,
Have taught her yout the road to solid glory,
To real virtue, and immortal happiness,
The publick shall maintain me, while I live,
A cheap reward for what I've done for them.
The Areopagus shew marks of high resentment, and after some consultation give the final sentence.
Areopagus
Thy haughty soul, thou son of Sophroniscus,
Compels us to condemn thee; therefore be it
As thy high crimes deserve—the poison'd bowl
Thy portion;—when arrives the sacred ship
From Delos' hallow'd Isle, that day's they last.
Be on thyself thy blood—dismiss the court.
| The Poetic Writings of Thomas Cradock, 1718-1770 | |