Socrates - Voltaire (ereader for comics txt) 📗

that death will

follow.

 

SOCRATES:

We are all mortal. Nature condemns you all to die in a short time. And

probably you will all have an end sadder than mine. Diseases which

lead to death are worse than a goblet of Hemlock. As to the rest, I

owe praise to the judges who opined in favor of innocence. To the

others, I owe only my pity.

 

ONE JUDGE: (leaving)

Certainly this man deserves a state pension rather than a bowl of

Hemlock.

 

ANOTHER JUDGE:

That’s true; but at the same time what’s the point of getting

embroiled with a priest of Ceres?

 

ANOTHER JUDGE:

I’m really quite comfortable in putting a philosopher to death. Those

folk have a certain pride in wit which it’s good to humble a little.

 

ONE JUDGE:

Gentlemen, one thing. While our shoulder is at the wheel, wouldn’t we

do better to put to death all the geometers who pretend that the three

angles of a triangle add up to two right angles? They strangely

scandalize the populace that reads their books.

 

ANOTHER JUDGE:

Yes, yes, we’ll hang them at the next session. Let’s go to dinner.

 

(Exit the judges.)

 

(There should be a scene change here to Socrates cell. But there is no

indication in the text.)

 

SOCRATES:

I’ve been prepared for death for a long while. All that worries me now

is that my wife, Xantippe may come trouble my last moments and

interrupt the sweet composure of my soul: I mustn’t be occupied except

with the Supreme Being before whom I must soon appear. But here she

is: I’ve got to be resigned to everything.

 

XANTIPPE: (entering)

Well! Poor man! What have these law folk concluded? Are you condemned

to a fine? are you banished? Are you absolved? My God! How you’ve

upset me! Try, I beg you, not to let this happen again.

 

SOCRATES:

No, my wife. I’ll answer for that. It won’t happen again. You won’t be

troubled by anything.

 

(Enter Disciples)

 

Be welcome, my dear disciples, my friends.

 

CRITO: (at the head of Socrates’ Disciples)

You sees us as alarmed at your fate as your wife, Xantippe. We have

obtained from the judges, permission to see you. Just heaven! Must we

see Socrates burdened with chains? Allow us to kiss these irons that

honor you and are the shame of Athens. Is it possible that Anitus and

his accomplices have been able to put you in this condition?

 

SOCRATES:

My dear friends, let’s not think of these trivia and let’s continue

the discussion we were having yesterday about the immortality of the

soul. It seems to me we were saying that nothing is more probable than

that idea. Indeed, matter changes and never perishes; why should the

soul perish? Could it be made so that we, being elevated to

consciousness of a God through the veil of the mortal body, would

cease to know Him when the veil falls. No. Since we think, we will

think forever; thought is the being of man. That being will appear

before a just God who rewards virtue, who punishes crime and who

excuses weakness.

 

XANTIPPE:

That’s well said: I didn’t understand any of it. To always think

because one has thought! Does one always wipe one’s nose because one

has wiped it before. But who’s this villainous man with his bowl?

 

JAILOR OR SERVANT OF THE ELEVEN: (bringing the cup of Hemlock)

Here! Socrates: this is what the Senate sends you.

 

XANTIPPE:

What! Cursed poisoner of the republic, you come here to kill my

husband in my presence! I will disfigure you, monster!

 

SOCRATES:

My dear friend, I ask your pardon for my wife. She’s always scolded

her husband. She’s treating you the same way. I beg you to excuse this

little excitement. Give it to me. (taking the bowl)

 

ONE OF THE DISCIPLES:

Let it be permitted for us to take this poison, divine Socrates. By

what horrible injustice are you ravished from us? Why? The criminals

have condemned the just. The fanatics have proscribed the wise man!

You are going to die.

 

SOCRATES:

No, I am going to live. Here’s the brew of immortality. It’s not the

perishable body that you loved, that instructed you, it’s my soul

alone that lived with you. And it will love you forever. (wants to

drink)

 

SERVANT OF THE ELEVEN:

First, I must remove your chains. That’s the rule.

 

SOCRATES:

If it’s the rule, remove them. (he scratches his leg a bit)

 

ONE OF HIS DISCIPLES:

What! You are smiling?

 

SOCRATES:

I am smiling. Reflecting that pleasure comes from pain. It’s in this

manner that Eternal Happiness will be born from the miseries of life.

(Socrates drinks)

 

CRITO:

Alas, what have you done?

 

XANTIPPE:

Alas, it’s for I don’t know how many ridiculous speeches of this sort

that they are making this poor man die. Truly, my husband, you break

my heart and I will strangle all the judges with my own hands. I

scolded you, but I loved you: and these are the polite folk who’ve

poisoned you. Ah! ah! My dear husband, ah!

 

SOCRATES:

Calm yourself, my good Xantippe. Don’t cry any more my friends. It

doesn’t become disciples of Socrates to shed tears.

 

CRITO:

And can one not pour them out after this frightful sentence, after

this judicial poisoning ordered by perverse ignorance, who’ve bought

with fifty thousand drachmas the right to murder their fellow citizens

with impunity?

 

SOCRATES:

That’s the way they often treat the worshippers of a single God, and

the enemies of superstition.

 

CRITO:

Alas! Must you be one of those victims?

 

SOCRATES:

It’s beautiful to be the victim of Divinity. I am dying satisfied.

It’s true I would have liked to join to the consolation of seeing you

that of Sophronine and Aglaea as well. I am astonished not to see

them. They would have rendered my last moments even sweeter than they

are.

 

CRITO:

Alas, they are unaware that you have consummated the iniquity of your

judges. They are speaking to the people. They are encouraging the

magistrates who took your part. Aglaea is revealing the crime of

Anitus. His shame is going to be public. Aglaea and Sophronine perhaps

would have saved your life. Ah! Dear Socrates, why did you hurry your

last moments.

 

AGLAEA: (entering with Sophronine)

Divine Socrates, fear nothing. Xantippe console yourself. Worthy

disciples don’t weep.

 

SOPHRONINE:

Your enemies are confounded; all the people are coming to your

defense.

 

AGLAEA:

We’ve spoken out. We’ve revealed the jealousy and intrigue of the

impious Anitus. It was up to me to demand justice for his crime since

I was the cause of it.

 

SOPHRONINE:

Anitus escaped by flight before the fury of the people. They are

pursuing him and his accomplices. They are giving solemn thanks to the

judges who opined in your favor. The people are at the gate of the

prison, waiting for you to appear, to escort you home in triumph. All

the judges have recanted.

 

XANTIPPE:

Alas, such pains wasted.

 

ONE OF THE DISCIPLES:

O heaven! O Socrates! Why did you obey?

 

AGLAEA:

Live, dear Socrates, benefactor of your country, model of men. Live

for the happiness of the world.

 

CRITO:

Virtuous couple, worthy friends, there’s no longer time.

 

XANTIPPE:

You are too late.

 

AGLAEA:

What? There’s no time? Just heaven!

 

SOPHRONINE:

What! Socrates has already drunk the poisoned cup?

 

SOCRATES:

Loveable Aglaea, tender Sophronine, the law ordained that I take the

poison. I’ve obeyed the law, all unjust that it is—because it

oppressed only me. If this injustice were directed toward another I

would have fought it. I am going to die, but the example of friendship

and greatness of soul that you are giving to the world will never

perish. Your virtue prevails over the crime of those who accused me. I

bless what they call my misfortune. It has given birth to the strength

of your beautiful soul. My dear Xantippe, be happy and think that to

be so one must subdue one’s temper. My beloved disciples harken always

to the voice of philosophy which scorns persecutors and which takes

pity on human weakness. And you, my daughter, Aglaea, my son,

Sophronine, be always that way yourselves.

 

AGLAEA:

How we are to be pitied not to be able to die for you!

 

SOCRATES:

Your life is precious, mine is useless, Receive my tender and last

farewells. The doors of eternity are opening for me.

 

XANTIPPE:

Come to think of it, he was a great man. Ah, I am going to rouse the

nation and eat Anitus’ heart!

 

SOPHRONINE:

We could raise temples to Socrates as a man deserving of it.

 

CRITO:

At least may his wisdom teach men that it is to God alone that we owe

temples.

 

CURTAIN

 

End of this Project Gutenberg etext of Socrates by Voltaire,

translated by Frank J. Morlock.