(1) He maintains that the individual should at any cost refuse to be coerced by any human authority or tribunal into a course which his own mind condemns as wrong.  That is, he asserts the supremacy of the individual conscience, as we should say, over human law.  He represents his own life-work as a sort of religious quest; he feels convinced that in devoting himself to philosophical discussion he has done the bidding of a super-human guide; and he goes to death rather than be untrue to this personal conviction.  “If you propose to acquit me,” he says, “on condition that I abandon my search for truth, I will say:  I thank you, O Athenians, but I will obey God, who, as I believe, set me this task, rather than you, and so long as I have breath and strength I will never

[34] cease from my occupation with philosophy.  I will continue the practice of accosting whomever I meet and saying to him, ’Are you not ashamed of setting your heart on wealth and honours while you have no care for wisdom and truth and making your soul better?’ I know not what death is—­it may be a good thing, and I am not afraid of it.  But I do know that it is a bad thing to desert one’s post and I prefer what may be good to what I know to be bad.”

(2) He insists on the public value of free discussion.  “In me you have a stimulating critic, persistently urging you with persuasion and reproaches, persistently testing your opinions and trying to show you that you are really ignorant of what you suppose you know.  Daily discussion of the matters about which you hear me conversing is the highest good for man.  Life that is not tested by such discussion is not worth living.”

Thus in what we may call the earliest justification of liberty of thought we have two significant claims affirmed:  the indefeasible right of the conscience of the individual —­a claim on which later struggles for liberty were to turn; and the social importance of discussion and criticism.  The former claim is not based on argument but on intuition; it rests in fact on the assumption

[35] of some sort of superhuman moral principle, and to those who, not having the same personal experience as Socrates, reject this assumption, his pleading does not carry weight.  The second claim, after the experience of more than 2,000 years, can be formulated more comprehensively now with bearings of which he did not dream.

The circumstances of the trial of Socrates illustrate both the tolerance and the intolerance which prevailed at Athens.  His long immunity, the fact that he was at last indicted from political motives and perhaps personal also, the large minority in his favour, all show that thought was normally free, and that the mass of intolerance which existed was only fitfully invoked, and perhaps most often to serve other purposes.  I may mention the case of the philosopher Aristotle, who some seventy years later left Athens because he was menaced by a prosecution for blasphemy, the charge being a pretext for attacking one who belonged to a certain political party.  The persecution of opinion was never organized.