The socrate is a philosopher who was accuser by the anthem of many different crimes …show more content…
All this great fame and talk about you would never have arisen if
you had been like other men: tell us, then, why this is, as we should
be sorry to judge hastily of you." Now I regard this as a fair challenge,
and I will endeavor to explain to you the origin of this name of "wise,"
and of this evil fame. Please to attend then. And although some of
you may think I am joking, I declare that I will tell you the entire
truth. Men of Athens, this reputation of mine has come of a certain
sort of wisdom which I possess. If you ask me what kind of wisdom,
I reply, such wisdom as is attainable by man, for to that extent I
am inclined to believe that I am wise; whereas the persons of whom
I was speaking have a superhuman wisdom, which I may fail to describe,
because I have it not myself; and he who says that I have, speaks
falsely, and is taking away my character. And here, O men of Athens,
I must beg you not to interrupt me, even if I seem to say something
extravagant. For the word which I will speak is not mine. I will refer
you to a witness who is worthy of credit, and will tell you …show more content…
Furthermore, he was rich and consequently, all the wiser, because, lacking nothing, he needed to deceive nobody. His household was very well managed by three handsome women who set themselves out to please him. When he was not amusing himself with his women, he passed the time in philosophizing. Near his house, which was beautifully decorated and had charming gardens attached, there lived a narrow-minded old Indian woman: she was a simpleton, and rather poor. Brahmin said to me one day: "I wish I had never been born!" On my asking why, he answered: "I have been studying forty years, and that is forty years wasted. I teach others and myself am ignorant of everything. Such a state of affairs fills my soul with so much humiliation and disgust that my life is intolerable. I was born in Time, I leve in Time, and uyet I do not know what Time is. I am at a point between two eternities, as our wise men say, and I have no conception of eternity. I am composed of matter: I think, but I have never been able to learn what produces my thought. I do not know whether or no my understanding is a simple faculty inside me, such as those of walking and digesting, and whether or no I think with my head as I grip with my hands. Not only is the cause of my thought unknown to me: the cause of my actions is equally a mystery. I do not know why I exist, and yet every