Of the unjust attack made upon Socrates by the poet Aristophanes we have already spoken. That occurred in 423 B.C., and, as a writer has well said, "evaporated with the laugh"--having nothing to do with the sad fate of the guiltless philosopher twenty-four years after. Soon after the restoration of the democracy in Athens (403 B.C.) Socrates was tried for his life on the absurd charges of impiety and of corrupting the morals of the young. His accusers appear to have been instigated by personal resentment, which he had innocently provoked, and by envy of his many virtues; and the result shows not only the instability but the moral obliquity of the Athenian character. He approached his trial with no special preparation for defence, as he had no expectation of an acquittal; but he maintained a calm, brave, and haughty bearing, and addressed the court in a bold and uncompromising tone, demanding rewards instead of punishment. It was the strong religious persuasion (or belief) of Socrates that he was acting under a divine mission. This consciousness had been the controlling principle of his life; and in the following extracts which we have taken from his Apology, or Defence, in which he explains his conduct, we see plain evidences of this striking characteristic of the great philosopher: The Defence of Socrates. [Footnote: From the translation by Professor Jowett, of Oxford University.] "Strange, indeed, would be my conduct, O men of Athens, if now, when, as I conceive and imagine, God orders me to fulfil the philosopher's mission of searching into myself and other men, I were to desert my post through fear of death, or any other fear: that would indeed be strange, and I might justly be arraigned in court for denying the existence of the gods, if I disobeyed the oracle because I was afraid of death: then I should be fancying I was wise when I was not wise. For this fear of death is indeed the pretence of wisdom, and not real wisdom, being the appearance of knowing the unknown; since no one knows whether death, which he in his fear apprehends to be the greatest evil, may not be the greatest good. Is there not here conceit of knowledge which is a disgraceful sort of ignorance? And this is the point in which, as I think, I am superior to men in general, and in which I might, perhaps, fancy myself wiser than other men--that whereas I know but little of the world below, I do not suppose that I know; but I do know that injustice and disobedience to a better, whether God or man, is evil and dishonorable, and I will never fear or avoid a possible good rather than a certain evil. And therefore should you say to me, 'Socrates, this time we will not mind An'ytus, and will let you off, but upon one condition, that you are not to inquire and speculate in this way any more, and that if you are caught doing this again you shall die'--if this were the condition on which you let me go, I should reply,