CHRISTOPHER P. LONGhe has made it his “concern to know each day what he [Socrates] says
and does” (172c). Socrates speaks in his own voice; Apollodorus only
mimics the words of others.
The claim to know precisely the words and actions of Socrates gives
the account that Apollodorus will present the aura of verisimilitude.
This aura is reinforced fi rst by the assertion that Apollodorus heard
it directly from Aristodemus, who was there, and second, by the claim
that Apollodorus questioned Socrates and received his agreement about
some of t he t hings he heard from A r istodemus (173b1– 5). Yet what Plato
offers with one hand, he takes away with the other. For precisely which
of the things he heard received the Socratic imprimatur and exactly
how far Aristodemus is to be trusted remains unclear. Indeed, Plato has
Apollodorus tell us specifi cally that Aristodemus, who went around, like
Socrates, barefoot, was one of the most devoted lovers of Socrates at the
time. This suggests, however, that perhaps the accounts heard here are
somehow tainted by the erotic madness of the fanatic and ought not to
be received without a certain skepticism.
Our critical awareness of the dubious provenance of the lovgoi
we are about to be presented is further reinforced by the personality
Apollodorus exhibits in his initial exchange with the group of unnamed
businessmen who ask him to relate the speeches. He has all the haugh-
tiness of the dogmatist confi dent in the path he has chosen, and his
contempt for the “rich men of business” is surpassed only by his own
self-loathing. As Benardete puts it, “he knows he is despicable along with
everyone else, and only Socrates is exempt from reproach.”^12 Although
he is clearly eager to relate the story they request, Apollodorus feigns
being somewhat put upon to repeat it—“If it is necessary to tell you as
well, then that is what I must do” (173c; see also Republic 328b3)—in
order to afford himself the opportunity to belittle their wretched mode
of existence. His unnamed companion remains somewhat above this
rude treatment, exhibiting a degree of self-restraint and an erotic de-
sire for the philosophical account worthy of Socrates himself. He claims
that Apollodorus is always calling everyone, including himself, miser-
able, everyone, of course, save Socrates. He goes on to add: “Where
you caught this nickname ‘maniac,’ I do not know. However, you are
always like this in your speeches, angry at yourself and at others, except
Socrates” (173d).^13 Apollodorus then attempts to draw his companion
into a Socratic discussion by asking if he is so crazy and out of his mind
to criticize his own life and the lives of all who do not adequately pursue
philosophy. The companion, however, does not want to engage Apol-
lodorus on this level, preferring to hear the speeches of others recited
from memory. Apollodorus does not resist, and one has the sense that