Old Men in Love

by Alasdair Gray

  That was gibberish. I told her Isobel had never introduced us because she (Zoe) had introduced herself. She said, “Aye, alright, but I can get you someone else you’ll like, someone younger than me – I’m ancient.”

  I told her I didn’t want anyone but her. She sighed and spoke slowly like a schoolmistress to a stupid but not hopeless pupil. She said something like this:

  “I’ve an important job coming up. It will look like a party but it’s really a business meeting. A lot of folk you wouldnae like will be here and they wouldnae like you so take the night off. I’ll book you into the Buchanan Arms Hotel near Drymen with Is or Mish or anybody else you want. I think I could even get Niki back for a night without Mo, if you’re keen. I know all kinds of lassies who’ll let you do anything you want with them without you having to pay a penny.”

  I sat down because this speech made me feel crippled in every limb. At last I said I loved her.

  “Same back,” she said, “but I really do need this place for a night without you around. I’ll tell you why. It’s like this –”

  I interrupted, saying I wanted to know NOTHING about her business because it was obviously a business no respectable householder would ever want to know. My house had once been the manse of Hillhead Parish Church. My mother and aunts and I had spent most of our lives here and I would not let her (Zoe) turn it into a den of thieves. I don’t know why that biblical phrase popped out of me but it impressed Zoe. She went pale, said I could stay at home if I just locked myself in our bedroom for five or six hours and pretended nothing was happening outside it. I said, “Meet your strange pals in one of their own houses.”

  She said, “I wouldnae be safe if I did.”

  “Then you should get rid of them,” I said firmly, “they must not come here,” and busied myself again with my papers. She said, “But that could get me into a lot of trouble – you too.”

  In coarse demotic Glaswegian I told her I wasnae feart, and heard her leave the room, then the front door slam as she left the house. This was our first quarrel, but if my experience of Niki, Yvonne etcetera is anything to go by it will not be the last. She did not come home last night but I am certain she will return soon. This waiting would drive me mad if Who Paid for all This? was not occupying nine-tenths of my acting intelligence.

  That title, however, will no longer suit a trilogy that contains my Belovéd Prince Henry, no no no, I will call it Money at Play, and to Hell with the muscles of worn-out workmen, the broken hearts and crazed brains of defeated women and children and what is happening now in Scotland. Concentrate on the trial of Socrates.

  I once thought it was held on a hillside west of the Acropolis where the Athenian parliament met, but Elizabeth Moignard says the likeliest place was the council house on the marketplace.61 The entrance lobby before the trial started would be thronged by folk wanting jury service as trade would not have recovered from the Athenian empire’s collapse three years earlier, so a juror’s wage was desirable. The selection process must have been lengthy, being designed to ensure parity between three main voting districts: the high ground where farmers and tradesmen lived; the plain with its owners of rich estates; the coast where lived merchants, dockers and seamen. There must have been many arguments between court officials chosen by lot and citizens who felt unfairly excluded. It would be afternoon before all 899 jurors were admitted: a number ensuring votes for and against the accused were never even. Since the president was chosen by lot I will make him the farmer who did most of the talking in my first chapter. There was no Athenian legal profession so trials were run like the Athenian parliament. Any citizen could denounce another in court, then the accused spoke in their own defence, then innocence or guilt was decided by a majority vote.

  Plato says Socrates was accused by someone put up to the job by Anytus, a dealer in leather who had recently fought to depose the tyrants installed by Sparta. But the reasons for the trial will be clearer if Anytus is on stage instead of a front man. I imagine him tall, gaunt and tense, standing to one side of the president’s chair, talking to a group of supporters as the jurors settle into their places. Socrates, of course, stands on the other side of the chair chatting cheerfully to friends. The siege of Potidia is now twenty years ago. Socrates is seventy with bald, wrinkled brow above alert eyes, piggy nose, bushy white moustache and beard. His hands are clasped on a stout walking stick over which he sometimes leans to hear someone talking quietly to him. His friends would not be noticed in isolation, but their characters and manners are so different that together they look distinctly odd.

  I will follow the example of Plato in writing out the trial like a play of speeches between accuser and accused, but my courtroom drama will have four witnesses Plato never refers to, also a noisier jury.

  30: THE TRIAL OF SOCRATES

  The jurors’ hubbub is interrupted by an official striking a gong, ringing a bell or smiting a board with a mallet. Silence begins to fall as our old friend the farmer, looking like any other venerable citizen, stands up in front of the presidential chair while Anytus and Socrates settle into chairs on each side of him, Socrates sitting comfortably with hands folded on top of the stick between his legs.

  PRESIDENT: Men of Athens, the trial is starting! Will that gaggle at the back please shut up? Worse than women some of you. Alright Anytus. State the charge and give your reasons. (He sits.)

  Anytus, standing up, speaks calmly, clearly.

  ANYTUS: Socrates is a criminal, firstly by not believing in the Gods of our nation; secondly, by preaching a false God of his own; thirdly, by corrupting our young men. If you agree with me then you must also agree that the proper punishment is death.

  Men of Athens, we all know Socrates. He’s a charming old fellow, an eccentric, knows the richest men in Athens and dresses like a scarecrow. He’s seventy, a widower remarried with a grownup son and two infants, yet the people he loves most are attractive young men. Most of us were children when he gave up his business and became an expert. He stood about the public places like the others; he talked enthusiastically like the others; he acquired followers just like the others; but he never gave public lectures and nobody knew what he was expert at. The other experts were wise about something – politics, medicine, arithmetic, the stars. Socrates mentioned these but didn’t seem specially keen on any. Most of us thought him an ambitious simpleton, a fool who wanted to be wise but didn’t know how to do it. There was a joke at the time: “What is Socrates wise about?” Answer: “He’s wise about wisdom.” Then one day a disciple of his asked the oracle of Apollo at Delphi who was the wisest man in Greece and the oracle said “Socrates” –

  Socrates starts shaking his head from side to side.

  ANYTUS: – The joke stopped being funny then, it had become the truth. Why are you shaking your head Socrates, don’t you agree with the oracle?

  SOCRATES: The oracle did not say that. A friend of mine asked if anyone in Greece was wiser than me. She said “No.”

  ANYTUS: But you agree some people are wiser than others?

  SOCRATES: Yes.

  ANYTUS: So you must agree that a few must be wiser than the rest?

  SOCRATES: Mm . . . Yes!

  ANYTUS: Of that few two or three will be wisest of all?

  SOCRATES: (gravely) I’m afraid you’re right.

  ANYTUS: Have you ever been in the company of two or three equally wise men, Socrates? Wasn’t one always wiser than the others? And wasn’t he always you?

  Some laughter in court.

  SOCRATES: (clapping his hands cheerfully) Well done Anytus!

  ANYTUS: (smiling thinly) Charming isn’t he? I agree with the oracle. Socrates is the wisest man. And where does he get his wisdom? His followers say he hears a demon, a voice within his brain or heart or belly – exactly where do you hear it, Socrates?

  SOCRATES: I don’t know Anytus, I’m not hot on anatomy.

  ANYTUS: (fiercely) Never mind! That demon, that voice is your god, Socrates and beside it the eternal Fat
her of Heaven and lesser gods of our nation are – not your enemies for a man takes his enemies seriously – they’re toys; our gods are toys to you, aren’t they? Aren’t they?

  SOCRATES: Well –

  PRESIDENT: Wait a minute! Anytus, is that question rhetorical or do you want it answered now?

  ANYTUS: Let him answer it in his defence speech.

  PRESIDENT: If you direct rhetorical questions to the jury in future you’ll make my job a lot easier.

  Anytus nods and addresses the jury, starting quietly.

  ANYTUS: If a man lives among us with an extra, perhaps divine source of wisdom how should he use it? I say he should use it to instruct and help people. All the people. If he sees our laws are wrong he should seek to change them by speaking in parliament. If he has friends – and Socrates has many – he can be made a magistrate or ambassador because our democracy has always been able to use superior intelligences. But Socrates prefers to teach special people. Look at his disciples over there! Yes, there’s a ragged coat or two among them but most are rich and half are very young. And what does the Socratic demon teach these rich young men? It teaches them about goodness. Goodness fascinates Socrates like a beautiful child fascinates a pederast. He can’t leave it alone. Mention love, justice, courage and he’s on to you at once. “What is love? What is justice? Are they good? Is goodness not sometimes a badness? Are the things we call bad not sometimes very good indeed?”

  Well, I’m no expert, I’m an Athenian citizen who loves his city, so I’ll remind you of the effects of this teaching on rich young men who heard it. Not long ago we lost a great war and a great empire by the treachery of that man’s darling pupil. The Spartans destroyed our democracy and set up a bloody dictatorship of our richest citizens. Three pupils of Socrates were among them and the richest of all was head of it! Never mind! Democracy has been restored and that man is continuing to spread his evil wisdom. Let us hear how he does it. Can I call a witness Mr President?

  PRESIDENT: (looking at a paper in his hand) Yes, but I must ask the court to refrain from demonstrations of disapproval. We’ll never get at the truth without some intelligent self-restraint. You’re all Athenians, so show it.

  ANYTUS: (loudly) Alcibiades!

  Murmurs from the crowd as Alcibiades strolls on stage. Forty, still strikingly handsome in semi-military dress, he stands at ease with fists on hips, facing the jurors and looking slightly amused. He does not look at Anytus who is a little way behind him and equally ignores Socrates, who watches him wistfully.

  ANYTUS: I want to summarize your political career.

  ALCIBIADES: Why? Evwybody knows it.

  ANYTUS: A few have short memories. We used to call you the Darling of Athens. You were the nephew of the great Pericles, and a rich playboy, and a popular war leader.

  ALCIBIADES: (ruefully) Long, long ago.

  ANYTUS: At the height of the war, when Athens and Sparta were about to sign a peace treaty, you got it rejected by telling both sides a pack of lies.

  ALCIBIADES: (sighing) I was ambitious.

  ANYTUS: Ambitious, yes. You tricked us into invading Sicily. You led a gigantic army out there which ought to have been defending our empire at home.

  ALCIBIADES: Yes, it was a gamble. (smiling) Think how wich we’d have been if we’d won!

  ANYTUS: How could we win? You turned traitor and deserted to the Spartans before we even engaged them! Our army was . . . (shakes head and shrugs, helplessly) . . . destroyed. Massacred. Except for the few who were allowed to surrender and become slaves. A few still trickle back to us sometimes. Cripples, with brands on their brows. From the quarries of Syracuse.

  Silence in court has almost the pressure of an explosive uproar.

  ALCIBIADES: (coolly) I wish I had led that army. It could have won.

  ANYTUS: You deserted to the enemy!

  ALCIBIADES: Nowhere else to go, old boy. Your lot – the majority party – were sending the police to awest me.

  ANYTUS: (loudly) On a charge of heresy! We had proof that you and a parcel of rich young degenerates had been acting obscene parodies of the most sacred ceremony in our religion. The ceremony . . . (suddenly, in a low voice) . . . the ceremony of the mothers.

  Over-loud murmurs and cries of disapproval from many jurors the president shouts:

  PRESIDENT: Silence! Silence in court!

  ALCIBIADES: (out-yelling everyone) Yes it was all twemendous fun!

  Shocked silence ensues. Alcibiades turns and looks at Anytus.

  ALCIBIADES: What has this to do with Socwates?

  PRESIDENT: Tell him, Anytus.

  ANYTUS: Socrates was your teacher.

  ALCIBIADES: (shrugging) He did his best.

  ANYTUS: He was your lover?

  ALCIBIADES: If you mean, did he love me? (sighs) Yes, he was like most people in Athens then.

  ANYTUS: I think he corrupted you.

  ALCIBIADES: (with a pleased grin) Are you talking about sodomy?

  ANYTUS: Partly.

  ALCIBIADES: (enjoying himself) I see! Well, speaking as a part-time sodomite I’m afwaid I found Socwates disappointing. You may wemember that my good looks in those days were . . . wemarkable. (sighs) Never mind. Late one evening I invited him home for a meal. We ate, I sent the slaves away and he talked about beauty, love, wisdom. I was beautiful, he was wise and loved me, so I pwetended to be dwunker than I was. I undwessed and thwew my wobe over both of us. (histrionically) “Do what you like with me!” (matter of factly) You know the sort of thing. But he went on talking about beauty, love and wisdom until I fell asleep. When I woke next morning I might have been sleeping with my father. Yet he loved me, I knew that.

  SOCRATES: (who has become cheerful while listening) I still do, Alcibiades!

  ALCIBIADES: (still ignoring him) Doesn’t help.

  ANYTUS: Did he corrupt you in another way?

  ALCIBIADES: (too quickly) Not intentionally.

  ANYTUS: Explain that.

  ALCIBIADES: (after frowning thoughtfully then smiling suddenly) No.

  PRESIDENT: Explain it, Alcibiades! That’s a court order.

  Alcibiades, chuckles, shakes head. Socrates raises a hand.

  SOCRATES: Can I say something, Mr President?

  PRESIDENT: If it’s to the point.

  SOCRATES: Forget this trial, Alcibiades. If I’ve hurt you I want to know how. Please tell me about it.

  ALCIBIADES: (looking at him for the first time) Here?

  SOCRATES: (smiling) This may be the last time you ever see me. Did I once really harm you?

  ALCIBIADES: (not bitterly) Yes, vewy much. Before meeting you I thought I was going to be a gweat man. I had vewy foolish confused ideas about how to do it but they were common ideas – most young men have them – and if I’d stuck to them I’d have become an ordinawy politician and militawy leader doing the usual amount of damage and being highly wespected for it. But you made me despise what other people think. When you were talking I felt above all that. You were like wine to me! I knew myself when we were together. When we were apart I was sure of nothing. Well, I’ve often been dwunk but never been alcoholic. I’ve often been in love but never dependent. That’s why I stopped seeing you. It hurt both of us, I suppose –

  Socrates smiles and nods.

  ALCIBIADES: – I think it hurt me most. After that I knew the only uncommon thing about me is my . . . (he makes an effort) . . . courrrage. Nobody has ever doubted that. I’ve astounded the world with it. Yes, I’ve given people something to talk about. Otherwise I’ve been completely useless.

  ANYTUS: And now you’re a common pirate.

  ALCIBIADES: (amused) Not common at all. I wun a pwivate shipping concern under the pwotection of the Persian Empewor. He’s a close fwiend of mine. For the time being. (to Socrates, softly, but with an effort) I’m sorry.

  SOCRATES: (earnestly) You should have seen more of me, Alcibiades.

  ANYTUS: Alcibiades has just made it clear that he would have been happier and a better man i
f he’d never seen you at all.

  ALCIBIADES: (to Socrates, tenderly smiling) I’m afwaid he’s wight.

  SOCRATES: (smiling and sitting down) You should have seen more of me.

  ANYTUS: You can go, Alcibiades.

  Alcibiades leaves the stage and sits where he can see what follows.

  ANYTUS: (to the president) There could be a lot more trouble with the next witness.

  PRESIDENT: (consulting his paper) Yes, I see. (loudly to the whole court) Listen you lot, listen everyone. We are trying Socrates today. Socrates. Nobody else. Our feelings about the witnesses are irrelevant and should be kept in check, so I am going to ask a favour from each one of you, especially ones with brains in their heads. If a neighbour interrupts proceedings with violent expressions of vocal disgust, gently remind him of his dignity as an Athenian juryman by punching him in the throat, will you?

  Laughter in court and some cries of “Yes!” “Alright!”

  PRESIDENT: Say it a bit louder, I’m hard of hearing – (Louder cries of agreement) – Good! Otherwise I have to stop the trial. I mean that. Come on Critias, come on.

  In dead silence Critias takes the floor, an urbane big whitehaired business and military man.

  ANYTUS: (pointing at Socrates) You were a follower of that man?

  CRITIAS: I learned a lot from him, if that’s what you mean.

  ANYTUS: (nodding) About politics?

  CRITIAS: (nodding) It was my business. It is supposed to be every Athenians business, God knows why.

  ANYTUS: What did Socrates teach you? We all know what you went on to do, so don’t try to hide what you believed.

  CRITIAS: I certainly won’t. Socrates demonstrated, again and again, that we can trust a builder to build, a tradesman to trade and a doctor to heal, but we cannot trust a parliament to govern.

  ANYTUS: Why not?

  CRITIAS: Because parliamentary skill is all in the mouth. Socrates wanted nations ruled by the best people for the job.

  ANYTUS: We all want that, Critias. The problem is choosing them. So Socrates was opposed to democracy?