Voltaire's Socrates opens not with the philosopher himself but with the high priest Anitus instructing his agents to stir up public sentiment against the wealthy who do not give enough offerings. This immediate focus on institutional greed sets the tone for a play that uses the trial of Socrates as a vehicle for satire. The dialogue is brisk and pointed, with characters like Drixa and Terpandre speaking in terms of profit and holy protection, revealing a society where piety is a business transaction. Socrates himself does not appear until the end of Act I, and when he does, his calm acceptance of arrest contrasts sharply with the scheming around him.

A Priest’s Blueprint for Persecution

The play’s first scene establishes Anitus as a master manipulator who treats religion as a means of enrichment. He tells his confidants, “Give much and you will receive much,” and instructs them to “arouse the people against all the people of quality who do not vow enough.” This language is transactional, not spiritual. Voltaire wastes no time in showing that the charges against Socrates are orchestrated by those who profit from popular superstition. The high priest’s marriage to Aglaea, a young woman raised by Socrates, is presented as both a personal and political move, designed to remove her from the philosopher’s influence. The play’s structure thus begins with the machinery of persecution, not with the victim.

Socrates’ Unwavering Calm

When Socrates finally appears, he is already in chains. His response to his wife Xantippe’s lament is a model of philosophical detachment: “God wished that I be put in irons; I submit to his decrees without a murmur.” He insists that he is “equally free” in his house, in Athens, or in a prison cell. This stoic posture is tested when Anitus offers him a deal: save his life and reputation in exchange for handing over Aglaea. Socrates’ reply is immediate and final: “Guards! Take me to prison without further delay.” The brevity of his response underscores his integrity. Voltaire does not give Socrates long speeches here; instead, his actions speak louder than words.

The Trial as Farce

The trial scene in Act III is brief and almost absurd. The judge Melitus recites a list of accusations—bad citizen, corruptor of youth, heretic, deist, atheist—and then simply says “Answer.” The text cuts off before Socrates’ reply, but the effect is clear: the charges are a jumble, and the proceedings are a formality. Earlier, Anitus admits to the audience that Socrates is “incorrigible” and must be “abandoned to his reprobate opinions.” The play’s pacing accelerates here, moving from the careful setup of the conspiracy to a rushed condemnation. Voltaire suggests that the trial is not about justice but about eliminating a man who refuses to play along.

Voltaire’s Socrates is a lean, fast-moving play that uses historical figures to critique contemporary abuses of power. The dialogue is economical, with each line advancing either the plot or the satire. Readers should pay attention to how Voltaire contrasts the verbose hypocrisy of Anitus with Socrates’ terse integrity. The play’s brevity—just over 12,000 words—means that every scene counts. It is best read as a theatrical script, imagining the pacing and the pauses that would shape a performance.