ALCIBIADES I
by Plato
(see Appendix I)
Translated by Benjamin Jowett
APPENDIX I.
It seems impossible to separate by any exact line the
genuine writings of Plato from the spurious. The only
external evidence to them which is of much value is that of
Aristotle; for the Alexandrian catalogues of a century
later include manifest forgeries. Even the value of the
Aristotelian authority is a good deal impaired by the
uncertainty concerning the date and authorship of the
writings which are ascribed to him. And several of the
citations of Aristotle omit the name of Plato, and some of
them omit the name of the dialogue from which they are
taken. Prior, however, to the enquiry about the
writings of a particular author, general considerations
which equally affect all evidence to the genuineness of
ancient writings are the following: Shorter works are more
likely to have been forged, or to have received an
erroneous designation, than longer ones; and some kinds of
composition, such as epistles or panegyrical orations, are
more liable to suspicion than others; those, again, which
have a taste of sophistry in them, or the ring of a later
age, or the slighter character of a rhetorical exercise, or
in which a motive or some affinity to spurious writings can
be detected, or which seem to have originated in a name or
statement really occurring in some classical author, are
also of doubtful credit; while there is no instance of any
ancient writing proved to be a forgery, which combines
excellence with length. A really great and original writer
would have no object in fathering his works on Plato; and
to the forger or imitator, the ‘literary hack’ of
Alexandria and Athens, the Gods did not grant originality
or genius. Further, in attempting to balance the evidence
for and against a Platonic dialogue, we must not forget
that the form of the Platonic writing was common to several
of his contemporaries. Aeschines, Euclid, Phaedo,
Antisthenes, and in the next generation Aristotle, are all
said to have composed dialogues; and mistakes of names are
very likely to have occurred. Greek literature in the
third century before Christ was almost as voluminous as our
own, and without the safeguards of regular publication, or
printing, or binding, or even of distinct titles. An
unknown writing was naturally attributed to a known writer
whose works bore the same character; and the name once
appended easily obtained authority. A tendency may also be
observed to blend the works and opinions of the master with
those of his scholars. To a later Platonist, the difference
between Plato and his imitators was not so perceptible as
to ourselves. The Memorabilia of Xenophon and the Dialogues
of Plato are but a part of a considerable Socratic
literature which has passed away. And we must consider how
we should regard the question of the genuineness of a
particular writing, if this lost literature had been
preserved to us.
These considerations lead us to adopt the following
criteria of genuineness: (1) That is most certainly Plato’s
which Aristotle attributes to him by name, which (2) is of
considerable length, of (3) great excellence, and also (4)
in harmony with the general spirit of the Platonic
writings. But the testimony of Aristotle cannot always be
distinguished from that of a later age (see above); and has
various degrees of importance. Those writings which he
cites without mentioning Plato, under their own names, e.g.
the Hippias, the Funeral Oration, the Phaedo, etc., have an
inferior degree of evidence in their favour. They may have
been supposed by him to be the writings of another,
although in the case of really great works, e.g. the
Phaedo, this is not credible; those again which are quoted
but not named, are still more defective in their external
credentials. There may be also a possibility that Aristotle
was mistaken, or may have confused the master and his
scholars in the case of a short writing; but this is
inconceivable about a more important work, e.g. the Laws,
especially when we remember that he was living at Athens,
and a frequenter of the groves of the Academy, during the
last twenty years of Plato’s life. Nor must we forget that
in all his numerous citations from the Platonic writings he
never attributes any passage found in the extant dialogues
to any one but Plato. And lastly, we may remark that one or
two great writings, such as the Parmenides and the
Politicus, which are wholly devoid of Aristotelian (1)
credentials may be fairly attributed to Plato, on the
ground of (2) length, (3) excellence, and (4) accordance
with the general spirit of his writings. Indeed the greater
part of the evidence for the genuineness of ancient Greek
authors may be summed up under two heads only: (1)
excellence; and (2) uniformity of tradition-a kind of
evidence, which though in many cases sufficient, is of
inferior value.
Proceeding upon these principles we appear to arrive at the
conclusion that nineteen-twentieths of all the writings
which have ever been ascribed to Plato, are undoubtedly
genuine. There is another portion of them, including the
Epistles, the Epinomis, the dialogues rejected by the
ancients themselves, namely, the Axiochus, De justo, De
virtute, Demodocus, Sisyphus, Eryxias, which on grounds,
both of internal and external evidence, we are able with
equal certainty to reject. But there still remains a small
portion of which we are unable to affirm either that they
are genuine or spurious. They may have been written in
youth, or possibly like the works of some painters, may be
partly or wholly the compositions of pupils; or they may
have been the writings of some contemporary transferred by
accident to the more celebrated name of Plato, or of some
Platonist in the next generation who aspired to imitate his
master. Not that on grounds either of language or
philosophy we should lightly reject them. Some difference
of style, or inferiority of execution, or inconsistency of
thought, can hardly be considered decisive of their
spurious character. For who always does justice to himself,
or who writes with equal care at all times? Certainly not
Plato, who exhibits the greatest differences in dramatic
power, in the formation of sentences, and in the use of
words, if his earlier writings are compared with his later
ones, say the Protagoras or Phaedrus with the Laws. Or who
can be expected to think in the same manner during a period
of authorship extending over above fifty years, in an age
of great intellectual activity, as well as of political and
literary transition? Certainly not Plato, whose earlier
writings are separated from his later ones by as wide an
interval of philosophical speculation as that which
separates his later writings from Aristotle.
The dialogues which have been translated in the first
Appendix, and which appear to have the next claim to
genuineness among the Platonic writings, are the Lesser
Hippias, the Menexenus or Funeral Oration, the First
Alcibiades. Of these, the Lesser Hippias and the Funeral
Oration are cited by Aristotle; the first in the
Metaphysics, the latter in the Rhetoric. Neither of
them are expressly attributed to Plato, but in his citation
of both of them he seems to be referring to passages in the
extant dialogues. From the mention of ‘Hippias’ in
the singular by Aristotle, we may perhaps infer that he was
unacquainted with a second dialogue bearing the same name.
Moreover, the mere existence of a Greater and Lesser
Hippias, and of a First and Second Alcibiades, does to a
certain extent throw a doubt upon both of them. Though a
very clever and ingenious work, the Lesser Hippias does not
appear to contain anything beyond the power of an imitator,
who was also a careful student of the earlier Platonic
writings, to invent. The motive or leading thought of
the dialogue may be detected in Xen. Mem., and there is no
similar instance of a ‘motive’ which is taken from Xenophon
in an undoubted dialogue of Plato. On the other hand, the
upholders of the genuineness of the dialogue will find in
the Hippias a true Socratic spirit; they will compare the
Ion as being akin both in subject and treatment; they will
urge the authority of Aristotle; and they will detect in
the treatment of the Sophist, in the satirical reasoning
upon Homer, in the reductio ad absurdum of the doctrine
that vice is ignorance, traces of a Platonic authorship. In
reference to the last point we are doubtful, as in some of
the other dialogues, whether the author is asserting or
overthrowing the paradox of Socrates, or merely following
the argument ‘whither the wind blows.’ That no conclusion
is arrived at is also in accordance with the character of
the earlier dialogues. The resemblances or imitations of
the Gorgias, Protagoras, and Euthydemus, which have been
observed in the Hippias, cannot with certainty be adduced
on either side of the argument. On the whole, more may be
said in favour of the genuineness of the Hippias than
against it.
The Menexenus or Funeral Oration is cited by Aristotle, and
is interesting as supplying an example of the manner in
which the orators praised ‘the Athenians among the
Athenians,’ falsifying persons and dates, and casting a
veil over the gloomier events of Athenian history. It
exhibits an acquaintance with the funeral oration of
Thucydides, and was, perhaps, intended to rival that great
work. If genuine, the proper place of the Menexenus would
be at the end of the Phaedrus. The satirical opening and
the concluding words bear a great resemblance to the
earlier dialogues; the oration itself is professedly a
mimetic work, like the speeches in the Phaedrus, and cannot
therefore be tested by a comparison of the other writings
of Plato. The funeral oration of Pericles is expressly
mentioned in the Phaedrus, and this may have suggested the
subject, in the same manner that the Cleitophon appears to
be suggested by the slight mention of Cleitophon and his
attachment to Thrasymachus in the Republic; and the Theages
by the mention of Theages in the Apology and Republic; or
as the Second Alcibiades seems to be founded upon the text
of Xenophon, Mem. A similar taste for parody appears not
only in the Phaedrus, but in the Protagoras, in the
Symposium, and to a certain extent in the Parmenides.
To these two doubtful writings of Plato I have added the
First Alcibiades, which, of all the disputed dialogues of
Plato, has the greatest merit, and is somewhat longer than
any of them, though not verified by the testimony of
Aristotle, and in many respects at variance with the
Symposium in the description of the relations of Socrates
and Alcibiades. Like the Lesser Hippias and the Menexenus,
it is to be compared to the earlier writings of Plato. The
motive of the piece may, perhaps, be found in that passage
of the Symposium in which Alcibiades describes himself as
self-convicted by the words of Socrates. For the
disparaging manner in which Schleiermacher has spoken of
this dialogue there seems to be no sufficient foundation.
At the same time, the lesson imparted is simple, and the
irony more transparent than in the undoubted dialogues of
Plato. We know, too, that Alcibiades was a favourite
thesis, and that at least five or six dialogues bearing
this name passed current in antiquity, and are attributed
to contemporaries of Socrates and Plato. (1) In the entire
absence of real external evidence (for the catalogues of
the Alexandrian librarians cannot be regarded as
trustworthy); and (2) in the absence of the highest marks
either of poetical or philosophical excellence; and (3)
considering that we have express testimony to the existence
of contemporary writings bearing the name of Alcibiades, we
are compelled to suspend our judgment on the genuineness of
the extant dialogue.
Neither at this point, nor at any other, do we propose to
draw an absolute line of demarcation between genuine and
spurious writings of Plato. They fade off imperceptibly
from one class to another. There may have been degrees of
genuineness in the dialogues themselves, as there are
certainly degrees of evidence by which they are supported.
The traditions of the oral discourses both of Socrates and
Plato may have formed the basis of semi-Platonic writings;
some of them may be of the same mixed character which is
apparent in Aristotle and Hippocrates, although the form of
them is different. But the writings of Plato, unlike the
writings of Aristotle, seem never to have been confused
with the writings of his disciples: this was probably due
to their definite form, and to their inimitable excellence.
The three dialogues which we have offered in the Appendix
to the criticism of the reader may be partly spurious and
partly genuine; they may be altogether spurious;--that is
an alternative which must be frankly admitted. Nor can we
maintain of some other dialogues, such as the Parmenides,
and the Sophist, and Politicus, that no considerable
objection can be urged against them, though greatly
overbalanced by the weight (chiefly) of internal evidence
in their favour. Nor, on the other hand, can we exclude a
bare possibility that some dialogues which are usually
rejected, such as the Greater Hippias and the Cleitophon,
may be genuine. The nature and object of these
semi-Platonic writings require more careful study and more
comparison of them with one another, and with forged
writings in general, than they have yet received, before we
can finally decide on their character. We do not consider
them all as genuine until they can be proved to be
spurious, as is often maintained and still more often
implied in this and similar discussions; but should say of
some of them, that their genuineness is neither proven nor
disproven until further evidence about them can be adduced.
And we are as confident that the Epistles are spurious, as
that the Republic, the Timaeus, and the Laws are genuine.
On the whole, not a twentieth part of the writings which
pass under the name of Plato, if we exclude the works
rejected by the ancients themselves and two or three other
plausible inventions, can be fairly doubted by those who
are willing to allow that a considerable change and growth
may have taken place in his philosophy (see above). That
twentieth debatable portion scarcely in any degree affects
our judgment of Plato, either as a thinker or a writer, and
though suggesting some interesting questions to the scholar
and critic, is of little importance to the general reader.
ALCIBIADES I
by
Plato (see Appendix I above)
Translated by Benjamin Jowett
INTRODUCTION.
The First Alcibiades is a conversation between Socrates and
Alcibiades. Socrates is represented in the character
which he attributes to himself in the Apology of a
know-nothing who detects the conceit of knowledge in
others. The two have met already in the Protagoras and in
the Symposium; in the latter dialogue, as in this, the
relation between them is that of a lover and his beloved.
But the narrative of their loves is told differently in
different places; for in the Symposium Alcibiades is
depicted as the impassioned but rejected lover; here, as
coldly receiving the advances of Socrates, who, for the
best of purposes, lies in wait for the aspiring and
ambitious youth.
Alcibiades, who is described as a very young man, is about
to enter on public life, having an inordinate opinion of
himself, and an extravagant ambition. Socrates, ‘who knows
what is in man,’ astonishes him by a revelation of his
designs. But has he the knowledge which is necessary for
carrying them out? He is going to persuade the
Athenians-about what? Not about any particular art, but
about politics-when to fight and when to make peace. Now,
men should fight and make peace on just grounds, and
therefore the question of justice and injustice must enter
into peace and war; and he who advises the Athenians must
know the difference between them. Does Alcibiades know? If
he does, he must either have been taught by some master, or
he must have discovered the nature of them himself. If he
has had a master, Socrates would like to be informed who he
is, that he may go and learn of him also. Alcibiades admits
that he has never learned. Then has he enquired for
himself? He may have, if he was ever aware of a time when
he was ignorant. But he never was ignorant; for when he
played with other boys at dice, he charged them with
cheating, and this implied a knowledge of just and unjust.
According to his own explanation, he had learned of the
multitude. Why, he asks, should he not learn of them the
nature of justice, as he has learned the Greek language of
them? To this Socrates answers, that they can teach Greek,
but they cannot teach justice; for they are agreed about
the one, but they are not agreed about the other: and
therefore Alcibiades, who has admitted that if he knows he
must either have learned from a master or have discovered
for himself the nature of justice, is convicted out of his
own mouth.
Alcibiades rejoins, that the Athenians debate not about
what is just, but about what is expedient; and he asserts
that the two principles of justice and expediency are
opposed. Socrates, by a series of questions, compels him to
admit that the just and the expedient coincide. Alcibiades
is thus reduced to the humiliating conclusion that he knows
nothing of politics, even if, as he says, they are
concerned with the expedient.
However, he is no worse than other Athenian statesmen; and
he will not need training, for others are as ignorant as he
is. He is reminded that he has to contend, not only with
his own countrymen, but with their enemies-with the Spartan
kings and with the great king of Persia; and he can only
attain this higher aim of ambition by the assistance of
Socrates. Not that Socrates himself professes to have
attained the truth, but the questions which he asks bring
others to a knowledge of themselves, and this is the first
step in the practice of virtue.
The dialogue continues:--We wish to become as good as
possible. But to be good in what? Alcibiades replies-‘Good
in transacting business.’ But what business? ‘The business
of the most intelligent men at Athens.’ The cobbler is
intelligent in shoemaking, and is therefore good in that;
he is not intelligent, and therefore not good, in weaving.
Is he good in the sense which Alcibiades means, who is also
bad? ‘I mean,’ replies Alcibiades, ‘the man who is able to
command in the city.’ But to command what-horses or men?
and if men, under what circumstances? ‘I mean to say, that
he is able to command men living in social and political
relations.’ And what is their aim? ‘The better preservation
of the city.’ But when is a city better? ‘When there is
unanimity, such as exists between husband and wife.’ Then,
when husbands and wives perform their own special duties,
there can be no unanimity between them; nor can a city be
well ordered when each citizen does his own work only.
Alcibiades, having stated first that goodness consists in
the unanimity of the citizens, and then in each of them
doing his own separate work, is brought to the required
point of self-contradiction, leading him to confess his own
ignorance.
But he is not too old to learn, and may still arrive at the
truth, if he is willing to be cross-examined by Socrates.
He must know himself; that is to say, not his body, or the
things of the body, but his mind, or truer self. The
physician knows the body, and the tradesman knows his own
business, but they do not necessarily know themselves.
Self-knowledge can be obtained only by looking into the
mind and virtue of the soul, which is the diviner part of a
man, as we see our own image in another’s eye. And if we do
not know ourselves, we cannot know what belongs to
ourselves or belongs to others, and are unfit to take a
part in political affairs. Both for the sake of the
individual and of the state, we ought to aim at justice and
temperance, not at wealth or power. The evil and unjust
should have no power,--they should be the slaves of better
men than themselves. None but the virtuous are deserving of
freedom.
And are you, Alcibiades, a freeman? ‘I feel that I am not;
but I hope, Socrates, that by your aid I may become free,
and from this day forward I will never leave you.’
The Alcibiades has several points of resemblance to the
undoubted dialogues of Plato. The process of interrogation
is of the same kind with that which Socrates practises upon
the youthful Cleinias in the Euthydemus; and he
characteristically attributes to Alcibiades the answers
which he has elicited from him. The definition of good is
narrowed by successive questions, and virtue is shown to be
identical with knowledge. Here, as elsewhere, Socrates
awakens the consciousness not of sin but of
ignorance. Self-humiliation is the first step to
knowledge, even of the commonest things. No man knows how
ignorant he is, and no man can arrive at virtue and wisdom
who has not once in his life, at least, been convicted of
error. The process by which the soul is elevated is
not unlike that which religious writers describe under the
name of ‘conversion,’ if we substitute the sense of
ignorance for the consciousness of sin.
In some respects the dialogue differs from any other
Platonic composition. The aim is more directly
ethical and hortatory; the process by which the antagonist
is undermined is simpler than in other Platonic writings,
and the conclusion more decided. There is a good deal of
humour in the manner in which the pride of Alcibiades, and
of the Greeks generally, is supposed to be taken down by
the Spartan and Persian queens; and the dialogue has
considerable dialectical merit. But we have a difficulty in
supposing that the same writer, who has given so profound
and complex a notion of the characters both of Alcibiades
and Socrates in the Symposium, should have treated them in
so thin and superficial a manner in the Alcibiades, or that
he would have ascribed to the ironical Socrates the rather
unmeaning boast that Alcibiades could not attain the
objects of his ambition without his help; or that he should
have imagined that a mighty nature like his could have been
reformed by a few not very conclusive words of Socrates.
For the arguments by which Alcibiades is reformed are not
convincing; the writer of the dialogue, whoever he was,
arrives at his idealism by crooked and tortuous paths, in
which many pitfalls are concealed. The anachronism of
making Alcibiades about twenty years old during the life of
his uncle, Pericles, may be noted; and the repetition of
the favourite observation, which occurs also in the Laches
and Protagoras, that great Athenian statesmen, like
Pericles, failed in the education of their sons. There is
none of the undoubted dialogues of Plato in which there is
so little dramatic verisimilitude.
ALCIBIADES I
by
Plato (see Appendix I above)
Translated by Benjamin Jowett
PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE: Alcibiades, Socrates.
SOCRATES: I dare say that you may be surprised to find, O
son of Cleinias, that I, who am your first lover, not
having spoken to you for many years, when the rest of the
world were wearying you with their attentions, am the last
of your lovers who still speaks to you. The cause of my
silence has been that I was hindered by a power more than
human, of which I will some day explain to you the nature;
this impediment has now been removed; I therefore here
present myself before you, and I greatly hope that no
similar hindrance will again occur. Meanwhile, I have
observed that your pride has been too much for the pride of
your admirers; they were numerous and high-spirited, but
they have all run away, overpowered by your superior force
of character; not one of them remains. And I want you to
understand the reason why you have been too much for them.
You think that you have no need of them or of any other
man, for you have great possessions and lack nothing,
beginning with the body, and ending with the soul. In the
first place, you say to yourself that you are the fairest
and tallest of the citizens, and this every one who has
eyes may see to be true; in the second place, that you are
among the noblest of them, highly connected both on the
father’s and the mother’s side, and sprung from one of the
most distinguished families in your own state, which is the
greatest in Hellas, and having many friends and kinsmen of
the best sort, who can assist you when in need; and there
is one potent relative, who is more to you than all the
rest, Pericles the son of Xanthippus, whom your father left
guardian of you, and of your brother, and who can do as he
pleases not only in this city, but in all Hellas, and among
many and mighty barbarous nations. Moreover, you are
rich; but I must say that you value yourself least of all
upon your possessions. And all these things have lifted you
up; you have overcome your lovers, and they have
acknowledged that you were too much for them. Have you not
remarked their absence? And now I know that you wonder why
I, unlike the rest of them, have not gone away, and what
can be my motive in remaining.
ALCIBIADES: Perhaps, Socrates, you are not aware that I was
just going to ask you the very same question-What do you
want? And what is your motive in annoying me, and always,
wherever I am, making a point of coming? (Compare
Symp.) I do really wonder what you mean, and should greatly
like to know.
SOCRATES: Then if, as you say, you desire to know, I
suppose that you will be willing to hear, and I may
consider myself to be speaking to an auditor who will
remain, and will not run away?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly, let me hear.
SOCRATES: You had better be careful, for I may very likely
be as unwilling to end as I have hitherto been to begin.
ALCIBIADES: Proceed, my good man, and I will listen.
SOCRATES: I will proceed; and, although no lover likes to
speak with one who has no feeling of love in him (compare
Symp.), I will make an effort, and tell you what I meant:
My love, Alcibiades, which I hardly like to confess, would
long ago have passed away, as I flatter myself, if I saw
you loving your good things, or thinking that you ought to
pass life in the enjoyment of them. But I shall reveal
other thoughts of yours, which you keep to yourself;
whereby you will know that I have always had my eye on you.
Suppose that at this moment some God came to you and said:
Alcibiades, will you live as you are, or die in an instant
if you are forbidden to make any further acquisition?--I
verily believe that you would choose death. And I will tell
you the hope in which you are at present living: Before
many days have elapsed, you think that you will come before
the Athenian assembly, and will prove to them that you are
more worthy of honour than Pericles, or any other man that
ever lived, and having proved this, you will have the
greatest power in the state. When you have gained the
greatest power among us, you will go on to other Hellenic
states, and not only to Hellenes, but to all the barbarians
who inhabit the same continent with us. And if the God were
then to say to you again: Here in Europe is to be your seat
of empire, and you must not cross over into Asia or meddle
with Asiatic affairs, I do not believe that you would
choose to live upon these terms; but the world, as I may
say, must be filled with your power and name-no man less
than Cyrus and Xerxes is of any account with you. Such I
know to be your hopes-I am not guessing only-and very
likely you, who know that I am speaking the truth, will
reply, Well, Socrates, but what have my hopes to do with
the explanation which you promised of your unwillingness to
leave me? And that is what I am now going to tell you,
sweet son of Cleinias and Dinomache. The explanation is,
that all these designs of yours cannot be accomplished by
you without my help; so great is the power which I believe
myself to have over you and your concerns; and this I
conceive to be the reason why the God has hitherto
forbidden me to converse with you, and I have been long
expecting his permission. For, as you hope to prove your
own great value to the state, and having proved it, to
attain at once to absolute power, so do I indulge a hope
that I shall be the supreme power over you, if I am able to
prove my own great value to you, and to show you that
neither guardian, nor kinsman, nor any one is able to
deliver into your hands the power which you desire, but I
only, God being my helper. When you were young (compare
Symp.) and your hopes were not yet matured, I should have
wasted my time, and therefore, as I conceive, the God
forbade me to converse with you; but now, having his
permission, I will speak, for now you will listen to me.
ALCIBIADES: Your silence, Socrates, was always a surprise
to me. I never could understand why you followed me about,
and now that you have begun to speak again, I am still more
amazed. Whether I think all this or not, is a matter about
which you seem to have already made up your mind, and
therefore my denial will have no effect upon you. But
granting, if I must, that you have perfectly divined my
purposes, why is your assistance necessary to the
attainment of them? Can you tell me why?
SOCRATES: You want to know whether I can make a long
speech, such as you are in the habit of hearing; but that
is not my way. I think, however, that I can prove to you
the truth of what I am saying, if you will grant me one
little favour.
ALCIBIADES: Yes, if the favour which you mean be not a
troublesome one.
SOCRATES: Will you be troubled at having questions to
answer?
ALCIBIADES: Not at all.
SOCRATES: Then please to answer.
ALCIBIADES: Ask me.
SOCRATES: Have you not the intention which I attribute to
you?
ALCIBIADES: I will grant anything you like, in the hope of
hearing what more you have to say.
SOCRATES: You do, then, mean, as I was saying, to come
forward in a little while in the character of an adviser of
the Athenians? And suppose that when you are ascending the
bema, I pull you by the sleeve and say, Alcibiades, you are
getting up to advise the Athenians-do you know the matter
about which they are going to deliberate, better than
they?--How would you answer?
ALCIBIADES: I should reply, that I was going to advise them
about a matter which I do know better than they.
SOCRATES: Then you are a good adviser about the things
which you know?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: And do you know anything but what you have
learned of others, or found out yourself?
ALCIBIADES: That is all.
SOCRATES: And would you have ever learned or discovered
anything, if you had not been willing either to learn of
others or to examine yourself?
ALCIBIADES: I should not.
SOCRATES: And would you have been willing to learn or to
examine what you supposed that you knew?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: Then there was a time when you thought that you
did not know what you are now supposed to know?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: I think that I know tolerably well the extent of
your acquirements; and you must tell me if I forget any of
them: according to my recollection, you learned the arts of
writing, of playing on the lyre, and of wrestling; the
flute you never would learn; this is the sum of your
accomplishments, unless there were some which you acquired
in secret; and I think that secrecy was hardly possible, as
you could not have come out of your door, either by day or
night, without my seeing you.
ALCIBIADES: Yes, that was the whole of my schooling.
SOCRATES: And are you going to get up in the Athenian
assembly, and give them advice about writing?
ALCIBIADES: No, indeed.
SOCRATES: Or about the touch of the lyre?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: And they are not in the habit of deliberating
about wrestling, in the assembly?
ALCIBIADES: Hardly.
SOCRATES: Then what are the deliberations in which you
propose to advise them? Surely not about building?
ALCIBIADES: No.
SOCRATES: For the builder will advise better than you will
about that?
ALCIBIADES: He will.
SOCRATES: Nor about divination?
ALCIBIADES: No.
SOCRATES: About that again the diviner will advise better
than you will?
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: Whether he be little or great, good or
ill-looking, noble or ignoble-makes no difference.
ALCIBIADES: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: A man is a good adviser about anything, not
because he has riches, but because he has knowledge?
ALCIBIADES: Assuredly.
SOCRATES: Whether their counsellor is rich or poor, is not
a matter which will make any difference to the Athenians
when they are deliberating about the health of the
citizens; they only require that he should be a physician.
ALCIBIADES: Of course.
SOCRATES: Then what will be the subject of deliberation
about which you will be justified in getting up and
advising them?
ALCIBIADES: About their own concerns, Socrates.
SOCRATES: You mean about shipbuilding, for example, when
the question is what sort of ships they ought to build?
ALCIBIADES: No, I should not advise them about that.
SOCRATES: I suppose, because you do not understand
shipbuilding:--is that the reason?
ALCIBIADES: It is.
SOCRATES: Then about what concerns of theirs will you
advise them?
ALCIBIADES: About war, Socrates, or about peace, or about
any other concerns of the state.
SOCRATES: You mean, when they deliberate with whom they
ought to make peace, and with whom they ought to go to war,
and in what manner?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And they ought to go to war with those against
whom it is better to go to war?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And when it is better?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: And for as long a time as is better?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: But suppose the Athenians to deliberate with whom
they ought to close in wrestling, and whom they should
grasp by the hand, would you, or the master of gymnastics,
be a better adviser of them?
ALCIBIADES: Clearly, the master of gymnastics.
SOCRATES: And can you tell me on what grounds the master of
gymnastics would decide, with whom they ought or ought not
to close, and when and how? To take an instance:
Would he not say that they should wrestle with those
against whom it is best to wrestle?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And as much as is best?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: And at such times as are best?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: Again; you sometimes accompany the lyre with the
song and dance?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: When it is well to do so?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And as much as is well?
ALCIBIADES: Just so.
SOCRATES: And as you speak of an excellence or art of the
best in wrestling, and of an excellence in playing the
lyre, I wish you would tell me what this latter is;--the
excellence of wrestling I call gymnastic, and I want to
know what you call the other.
ALCIBIADES: I do not understand you.
SOCRATES: Then try to do as I do; for the answer which I
gave is universally right, and when I say right, I mean
according to rule.
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And was not the art of which I spoke gymnastic?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: And I called the excellence in wrestling
gymnastic?
ALCIBIADES: You did.
SOCRATES: And I was right?
ALCIBIADES: I think that you were.
SOCRATES: Well, now,--for you should learn to argue
prettily-let me ask you in return to tell me, first, what
is that art of which playing and singing, and stepping
properly in the dance, are parts,--what is the name of the
whole? I think that by this time you must be able to tell.
ALCIBIADES: Indeed I cannot.
SOCRATES: Then let me put the matter in another way: what
do you call the Goddesses who are the patronesses of art?
ALCIBIADES: The Muses do you mean, Socrates?
SOCRATES: Yes, I do; and what is the name of the art which
is called after them?
ALCIBIADES: I suppose that you mean music.
SOCRATES: Yes, that is my meaning; and what is the
excellence of the art of music, as I told you truly that
the excellence of wrestling was gymnastic-what is the
excellence of music-to be what?
ALCIBIADES: To be musical, I suppose.
SOCRATES: Very good; and now please to tell me what is the
excellence of war and peace; as the more musical was the
more excellent, or the more gymnastical was the more
excellent, tell me, what name do you give to the more
excellent in war and peace?
ALCIBIADES: But I really cannot tell you.
SOCRATES: But if you were offering advice to another and
said to him-This food is better than that, at this time and
in this quantity, and he said to you-What do you mean,
Alcibiades, by the word ‘better’? you would have no
difficulty in replying that you meant ‘more wholesome,’
although you do not profess to be a physician: and when the
subject is one of which you profess to have knowledge, and
about which you are ready to get up and advise as if you
knew, are you not ashamed, when you are asked, not to be
able to answer the question? Is it not disgraceful?
ALCIBIADES: Very.
SOCRATES: Well, then, consider and try to explain what is
the meaning of ‘better,’ in the matter of making peace and
going to war with those against whom you ought to go to
war? To what does the word refer?
ALCIBIADES: I am thinking, and I cannot tell.
SOCRATES: But you surely know what are the charges which we
bring against one another, when we arrive at the point of
making war, and what name we give them?
ALCIBIADES: Yes, certainly; we say that deceit or violence
has been employed, or that we have been defrauded.
SOCRATES: And how does this happen? Will you tell me how?
For there may be a difference in the manner.
ALCIBIADES: Do you mean by ‘how,’ Socrates, whether we
suffered these things justly or unjustly?
SOCRATES: Exactly.
ALCIBIADES: There can be no greater difference than between
just and unjust.
SOCRATES: And would you advise the Athenians to go to war
with the just or with the unjust?
ALCIBIADES: That is an awkward question; for certainly,
even if a person did intend to go to war with the just, he
would not admit that they were just.
SOCRATES: He would not go to war, because it would be
unlawful?
ALCIBIADES: Neither lawful nor honourable.
SOCRATES: Then you, too, would address them on principles
of justice?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: What, then, is justice but that better, of which
I spoke, in going to war or not going to war with those
against whom we ought or ought not, and when we ought or
ought not to go to war?
ALCIBIADES: Clearly.
SOCRATES: But how is this, friend Alcibiades? Have you
forgotten that you do not know this, or have you been to
the schoolmaster without my knowledge, and has he taught
you to discern the just from the unjust? Who is he? I wish
you would tell me, that I may go and learn of him-you shall
introduce me.
ALCIBIADES: You are mocking, Socrates.
SOCRATES: No, indeed; I most solemnly declare to you by
Zeus, who is the God of our common friendship, and whom I
never will forswear, that I am not; tell me, then, who this
instructor is, if he exists.
ALCIBIADES: But, perhaps, he does not exist; may I not have
acquired the knowledge of just and unjust in some other
way?
SOCRATES: Yes; if you have discovered them.
ALCIBIADES: But do you not think that I could discover
them?
SOCRATES: I am sure that you might, if you enquired about
them.
ALCIBIADES: And do you not think that I would enquire?
SOCRATES: Yes; if you thought that you did not know them.
ALCIBIADES: And was there not a time when I did so think?
SOCRATES: Very good; and can you tell me how long it is
since you thought that you did not know the nature of the
just and the unjust? What do you say to a year ago? Were
you then in a state of conscious ignorance and enquiry? Or
did you think that you knew? And please to answer truly,
that our discussion may not be in vain.
ALCIBIADES: Well, I thought that I knew.
SOCRATES: And two years ago, and three years ago, and four
years ago, you knew all the same?
ALCIBIADES: I did.
SOCRATES: And more than four years ago you were a
child-were you not?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And then I am quite sure that you thought you
knew.
ALCIBIADES: Why are you so sure?
SOCRATES: Because I often heard you when a child, in your
teacher’s house, or elsewhere, playing at dice or some
other game with the boys, not hesitating at all about the
nature of the just and unjust; but very confident-crying
and shouting that one of the boys was a rogue and a cheat,
and had been cheating. Is it not true?
ALCIBIADES: But what was I to do, Socrates, when anybody
cheated me?
SOCRATES: And how can you say, ‘What was I to do’? if at
the time you did not know whether you were wronged or not?
ALCIBIADES: To be sure I knew; I was quite aware that I was
being cheated.
SOCRATES: Then you suppose yourself even when a child to
have known the nature of just and unjust?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly; and I did know then.
SOCRATES: And when did you discover them-not, surely, at
the time when you thought that you knew them?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: And when did you think that you were ignorant-if
you consider, you will find that there never was such a
time?
ALCIBIADES: Really, Socrates, I cannot say.
SOCRATES: Then you did not learn them by discovering them?
ALCIBIADES: Clearly not.
SOCRATES: But just before you said that you did not know
them by learning; now, if you have neither discovered nor
learned them, how and whence do you come to know them?
ALCIBIADES: I suppose that I was mistaken in saying that I
knew them through my own discovery of them; whereas, in
truth, I learned them in the same way that other people
learn.
SOCRATES: So you said before, and I must again ask, of
whom? Do tell me.
ALCIBIADES: Of the many.
SOCRATES: Do you take refuge in them? I cannot say much for
your teachers.
ALCIBIADES: Why, are they not able to teach?
SOCRATES: They could not teach you how to play at draughts,
which you would acknowledge (would you not) to be a much
smaller matter than justice?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And can they teach the better who are unable to
teach the worse?
ALCIBIADES: I think that they can; at any rate, they can
teach many far better things than to play at draughts.
SOCRATES: What things?
ALCIBIADES: Why, for example, I learned to speak Greek of
them, and I cannot say who was my teacher, or to whom I am
to attribute my knowledge of Greek, if not to those
good-for-nothing teachers, as you call them.
SOCRATES: Why, yes, my friend; and the many are good enough
teachers of Greek, and some of their instructions in that
line may be justly praised.
ALCIBIADES: Why is that?
SOCRATES: Why, because they have the qualities which good
teachers ought to have.
ALCIBIADES: What qualities?
SOCRATES: Why, you know that knowledge is the first
qualification of any teacher?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: And if they know, they must agree together and
not differ?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And would you say that they knew the things about
which they differ?
ALCIBIADES: No.
SOCRATES: Then how can they teach them?
ALCIBIADES: They cannot.
SOCRATES: Well, but do you imagine that the many would
differ about the nature of wood and stone? are they not
agreed if you ask them what they are? and do they not run
to fetch the same thing, when they want a piece of wood or
a stone? And so in similar cases, which I suspect to be
pretty nearly all that you mean by speaking Greek.
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: These, as we were saying, are matters about which
they are agreed with one another and with themselves; both
individuals and states use the same words about them; they
do not use some one word and some another.
ALCIBIADES: They do not.
SOCRATES: Then they may be expected to be good teachers of
these things?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And if we want to instruct any one in them, we
shall be right in sending him to be taught by our friends
the many?
ALCIBIADES: Very true.
SOCRATES: But if we wanted further to know not only which
are men and which are horses, but which men or horses have
powers of running, would the many still be able to inform
us?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: And you have a sufficient proof that they do not
know these things and are not the best teachers of them,
inasmuch as they are never agreed about them?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And suppose that we wanted to know not only what
men are like, but what healthy or diseased men are
like-would the many be able to teach us?
ALCIBIADES: They would not.
SOCRATES: And you would have a proof that they were bad
teachers of these matters, if you saw them at variance?
ALCIBIADES: I should.
SOCRATES: Well, but are the many agreed with themselves, or
with one another, about the justice or injustice of men and
things?
ALCIBIADES: Assuredly not, Socrates.
SOCRATES: There is no subject about which they are more at
variance?
ALCIBIADES: None.
SOCRATES: I do not suppose that you ever saw or heard of
men quarrelling over the principles of health and disease
to such an extent as to go to war and kill one another for
the sake of them?
ALCIBIADES: No indeed.
SOCRATES: But of the quarrels about justice and injustice,
even if you have never seen them, you have certainly heard
from many people, including Homer; for you have heard of
the Iliad and Odyssey?
ALCIBIADES: To be sure, Socrates.
SOCRATES: A difference of just and unjust is the argument
of those poems?
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: Which difference caused all the wars and deaths
of Trojans and Achaeans, and the deaths of the suitors of
Penelope in their quarrel with Odysseus.
ALCIBIADES: Very true.
SOCRATES: And when the Athenians and Lacedaemonians and
Boeotians fell at Tanagra, and afterwards in the battle of
Coronea, at which your father Cleinias met his end, the
question was one of justice-this was the sole cause of the
battles, and of their deaths.
ALCIBIADES: Very true.
SOCRATES: But can they be said to understand that about
which they are quarrelling to the death?
ALCIBIADES: Clearly not.
SOCRATES: And yet those whom you thus allow to be ignorant
are the teachers to whom you are appealing.
ALCIBIADES: Very true.
SOCRATES: But how are you ever likely to know the nature of
justice and injustice, about which you are so perplexed, if
you have neither learned them of others nor discovered them
yourself?
ALCIBIADES: From what you say, I suppose not.
SOCRATES: See, again, how inaccurately you speak,
Alcibiades!
ALCIBIADES: In what respect?
SOCRATES: In saying that I say so.
ALCIBIADES: Why, did you not say that I know nothing of the
just and unjust?
SOCRATES: No; I did not.
ALCIBIADES: Did I, then?
SOCRATES: Yes.
ALCIBIADES: How was that?
SOCRATES: Let me explain. Suppose I were to ask you which
is the greater number, two or one; you would reply ‘two’?
ALCIBIADES: I should.
SOCRATES: And by how much greater?
ALCIBIADES: By one.
SOCRATES: Which of us now says that two is more than one?
ALCIBIADES: I do.
SOCRATES: Did not I ask, and you answer the question?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: Then who is speaking? I who put the question, or
you who answer me?
ALCIBIADES: I am.
SOCRATES: Or suppose that I ask and you tell me the letters
which make up the name Socrates, which of us is the
speaker?
ALCIBIADES: I am.
SOCRATES: Now let us put the case generally: whenever there
is a question and answer, who is the speaker,--the
questioner or the answerer?
ALCIBIADES: I should say, Socrates, that the answerer was
the speaker.
SOCRATES: And have I not been the questioner all through?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And you the answerer?
ALCIBIADES: Just so.
SOCRATES: Which of us, then, was the speaker?
ALCIBIADES: The inference is, Socrates, that I was the
speaker.
SOCRATES: Did not some one say that Alcibiades, the fair
son of Cleinias, not understanding about just and unjust,
but thinking that he did understand, was going to the
assembly to advise the Athenians about what he did not
know? Was not that said?
ALCIBIADES: Very true.
SOCRATES: Then, Alcibiades, the result may be expressed in
the language of Euripides. I think that you have heard all
this ‘from yourself, and not from me’; nor did I say this,
which you erroneously attribute to me, but you yourself,
and what you said was very true. For indeed, my dear
fellow, the design which you meditate of teaching what you
do not know, and have not taken any pains to learn, is
downright insanity.
ALCIBIADES: But, Socrates, I think that the Athenians and
the rest of the Hellenes do not often advise as to the more
just or unjust; for they see no difficulty in them, and
therefore they leave them, and consider which course of
action will be most expedient; for there is a difference
between justice and expediency. Many persons have done
great wrong and profited by their injustice; others have
done rightly and come to no good.
SOCRATES: Well, but granting that the just and the
expedient are ever so much opposed, you surely do not
imagine that you know what is expedient for mankind, or why
a thing is expedient?
ALCIBIADES: Why not, Socrates?--But I am not going to be
asked again from whom I learned, or when I made the
discovery.
SOCRATES: What a way you have! When you make a mistake
which might be refuted by a previous argument, you insist
on having a new and different refutation; the old argument
is a worn-our garment which you will no longer put on, but
some one must produce another which is clean and new. Now I
shall disregard this move of yours, and shall ask over
again,--Where did you learn and how do you know the nature
of the expedient, and who is your teacher? All this I
comprehend in a single question, and now you will
manifestly be in the old difficulty, and will not be able
to show that you know the expedient, either because you
learned or because you discovered it yourself. But, as I
perceive that you are dainty, and dislike the taste of a
stale argument, I will enquire no further into your
knowledge of what is expedient or what is not expedient for
the Athenian people, and simply request you to say why you
do not explain whether justice and expediency are the same
or different? And if you like you may examine me as I have
examined you, or, if you would rather, you may carry on the
discussion by yourself.
ALCIBIADES: But I am not certain, Socrates, whether I shall
be able to discuss the matter with you.
SOCRATES: Then imagine, my dear fellow, that I am the demus
and the ecclesia; for in the ecclesia, too, you will have
to persuade men individually.
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And is not the same person able to persuade one
individual singly and many individuals of the things which
he knows? The grammarian, for example, can persuade one and
he can persuade many about letters.
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: And about number, will not the same person
persuade one and persuade many?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And this will be he who knows number, or the
arithmetician?
ALCIBIADES: Quite true.
SOCRATES: And cannot you persuade one man about that of
which you can persuade many?
ALCIBIADES: I suppose so.
SOCRATES: And that of which you can persuade either is
clearly what you know?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And the only difference between one who argues as
we are doing, and the orator who is addressing an assembly,
is that the one seeks to persuade a number, and the other
an individual, of the same things.
ALCIBIADES: I suppose so.
SOCRATES: Well, then, since the same person who can
persuade a multitude can persuade individuals, try
conclusions upon me, and prove to me that the just is not
always expedient.
ALCIBIADES: You take liberties, Socrates.
SOCRATES: I shall take the liberty of proving to you the
opposite of that which you will not prove to me.
ALCIBIADES: Proceed.
SOCRATES: Answer my questions-that is all.
ALCIBIADES: Nay, I should like you to be the speaker.
SOCRATES: What, do you not wish to be persuaded?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly I do.
SOCRATES: And can you be persuaded better than out of your
own mouth?
ALCIBIADES: I think not.
SOCRATES: Then you shall answer; and if you do not hear the
words, that the just is the expedient, coming from your own
lips, never believe another man again.
ALCIBIADES: I won’t; but answer I will, for I do not see
how I can come to any harm.
SOCRATES: A true prophecy! Let me begin then by enquiring
of you whether you allow that the just is sometimes
expedient and sometimes not?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And sometimes honourable and sometimes not?
ALCIBIADES: What do you mean?
SOCRATES: I am asking if you ever knew any one who did what
was dishonourable and yet just?
ALCIBIADES: Never.
SOCRATES: All just things are honourable?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And are honourable things sometimes good and
sometimes not good, or are they always good?
ALCIBIADES: I rather think, Socrates, that some honourable
things are evil.
SOCRATES: And are some dishonourable things good?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: You mean in such a case as the following:--In
time of war, men have been wounded or have died in rescuing
a companion or kinsman, when others who have neglected the
duty of rescuing them have escaped in safety?
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: And to rescue another under such circumstances is
honourable, in respect of the attempt to save those whom we
ought to save; and this is courage?
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: But evil in respect of death and wounds?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And the courage which is shown in the rescue is
one thing, and the death another?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: Then the rescue of one’s friends is honourable in
one point of view, but evil in another?
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: And if honourable, then also good: Will you
consider now whether I may not be right, for you were
acknowledging that the courage which is shown in the rescue
is honourable? Now is this courage good or evil? Look at
the matter thus: which would you rather choose, good or
evil?
ALCIBIADES: Good.
SOCRATES: And the greatest goods you would be most ready to
choose, and would least like to be deprived of them?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: What would you say of courage? At what price
would you be willing to be deprived of courage?
ALCIBIADES: I would rather die than be a coward.
SOCRATES: Then you think that cowardice is the worst of
evils?
ALCIBIADES: I do.
SOCRATES: As bad as death, I suppose?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And life and courage are the extreme opposites of
death and cowardice?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And they are what you would most desire to have,
and their opposites you would least desire?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: Is this because you think life and courage the
best, and death and cowardice the worst?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And you would term the rescue of a friend in
battle honourable, in as much as courage does a good work?
ALCIBIADES: I should.
SOCRATES: But evil because of the death which ensues?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: Might we not describe their different effects as
follows:--You may call either of them evil in respect of
the evil which is the result, and good in respect of the
good which is the result of either of them?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And they are honourable in so far as they are
good, and dishonourable in so far as they are evil?
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: Then when you say that the rescue of a friend in
battle is honourable and yet evil, that is equivalent to
saying that the rescue is good and yet evil?
ALCIBIADES: I believe that you are right, Socrates.
SOCRATES: Nothing honourable, regarded as honourable, is
evil; nor anything base, regarded as base, good.
ALCIBIADES: Clearly not.
SOCRATES: Look at the matter yet once more in a further
light: he who acts honourably acts well?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And he who acts well is happy?
ALCIBIADES: Of course.
SOCRATES: And the happy are those who obtain good?
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: And they obtain good by acting well and
honourably?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: Then acting well is a good?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: And happiness is a good?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: Then the good and the honourable are again
identified.
ALCIBIADES: Manifestly.
SOCRATES: Then, if the argument holds, what we find to be
honourable we shall also find to be good?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: And is the good expedient or not?
ALCIBIADES: Expedient.
SOCRATES: Do you remember our admissions about the just?
ALCIBIADES: Yes; if I am not mistaken, we said that those
who acted justly must also act honourably.
SOCRATES: And the honourable is the good?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And the good is expedient?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: Then, Alcibiades, the just is expedient?
ALCIBIADES: I should infer so.
SOCRATES: And all this I prove out of your own mouth, for I
ask and you answer?
ALCIBIADES: I must acknowledge it to be true.
SOCRATES: And having acknowledged that the just is the same
as the expedient, are you not (let me ask) prepared to
ridicule any one who, pretending to understand the
principles of justice and injustice, gets up to advise the
noble Athenians or the ignoble Peparethians, that the just
may be the evil?
ALCIBIADES: I solemnly declare, Socrates, that I do not
know what I am saying. Verily, I am in a strange state, for
when you put questions to me I am of different minds in
successive instants.
SOCRATES: And are you not aware of the nature of this
perplexity, my friend?
ALCIBIADES: Indeed I am not.
SOCRATES: Do you suppose that if some one were to ask you
whether you have two eyes or three, or two hands or four,
or anything of that sort, you would then be of different
minds in successive instants?
ALCIBIADES: I begin to distrust myself, but still I do not
suppose that I should.
SOCRATES: You would feel no doubt; and for this
reason-because you would know?
ALCIBIADES: I suppose so.
SOCRATES: And the reason why you involuntarily contradict
yourself is clearly that you are ignorant?
ALCIBIADES: Very likely.
SOCRATES: And if you are perplexed in answering about just
and unjust, honourable and dishonourable, good and evil,
expedient and inexpedient, the reason is that you are
ignorant of them, and therefore in perplexity. Is not that
clear?
ALCIBIADES: I agree.
SOCRATES: But is this always the case, and is a man
necessarily perplexed about that of which he has no
knowledge?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly he is.
SOCRATES: And do you know how to ascend into heaven?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: And in this case, too, is your judgment
perplexed?
ALCIBIADES: No.
SOCRATES: Do you see the reason why, or shall I tell you?
ALCIBIADES: Tell me.
SOCRATES: The reason is, that you not only do not know, my
friend, but you do not think that you know.
ALCIBIADES: There again; what do you mean?
SOCRATES: Ask yourself; are you in any perplexity about
things of which you are ignorant? You know, for example,
that you know nothing about the preparation of food.
ALCIBIADES: Very true.
SOCRATES: And do you think and perplex yourself about the
preparation of food: or do you leave that to some one who
understands the art?
ALCIBIADES: The latter.
SOCRATES: Or if you were on a voyage, would you bewilder
yourself by considering whether the rudder is to be drawn
inwards or outwards, or do you leave that to the pilot, and
do nothing?
ALCIBIADES: It would be the concern of the pilot.
SOCRATES: Then you are not perplexed about what you do not
know, if you know that you do not know it?
ALCIBIADES: I imagine not.
SOCRATES: Do you not see, then, that mistakes in life and
practice are likewise to be attributed to the ignorance
which has conceit of knowledge?
ALCIBIADES: Once more, what do you mean?
SOCRATES: I suppose that we begin to act when we think that
we know what we are doing?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: But when people think that they do not know, they
entrust their business to others?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And so there is a class of ignorant persons who
do not make mistakes in life, because they trust others
about things of which they are ignorant?
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: Who, then, are the persons who make mistakes?
They cannot, of course, be those who know?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: But if neither those who know, nor those who know
that they do not know, make mistakes, there remain those
only who do not know and think that they know.
ALCIBIADES: Yes, only those.
SOCRATES: Then this is ignorance of the disgraceful sort
which is mischievous?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And most mischievous and most disgraceful when
having to do with the greatest matters?
ALCIBIADES: By far.
SOCRATES: And can there be any matters greater than the
just, the honourable, the good, and the expedient?
ALCIBIADES: There cannot be.
SOCRATES: And these, as you were saying, are what perplex
you?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: But if you are perplexed, then, as the previous
argument has shown, you are not only ignorant of the
greatest matters, but being ignorant you fancy that you
know them?
ALCIBIADES: I fear that you are right.
SOCRATES: And now see what has happened to you, Alcibiades!
I hardly like to speak of your evil case, but as we are
alone I will: My good friend, you are wedded to ignorance
of the most disgraceful kind, and of this you are
convicted, not by me, but out of your own mouth and by your
own argument; wherefore also you rush into politics before
you are educated. Neither is your case to be deemed
singular. For I might say the same of almost all our
statesmen, with the exception, perhaps of your guardian,
Pericles.
ALCIBIADES: Yes, Socrates; and Pericles is said not to have
got his wisdom by the light of nature, but to have
associated with several of the philosophers; with
Pythocleides, for example, and with Anaxagoras, and now in
advanced life with Damon, in the hope of gaining wisdom.
SOCRATES: Very good; but did you ever know a man wise in
anything who was unable to impart his particular wisdom?
For example, he who taught you letters was not only wise,
but he made you and any others whom he liked wise.
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And you, whom he taught, can do the same?
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: And in like manner the harper and
gymnastic-master?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: When a person is enabled to impart knowledge to
another, he thereby gives an excellent proof of his own
understanding of any matter.
ALCIBIADES: I agree.
SOCRATES: Well, and did Pericles make any one wise; did he
begin by making his sons wise?
ALCIBIADES: But, Socrates, if the two sons of Pericles were
simpletons, what has that to do with the matter?
SOCRATES: Well, but did he make your brother, Cleinias,
wise?
ALCIBIADES: Cleinias is a madman; there is no use in
talking of him.
SOCRATES: But if Cleinias is a madman and the two sons of
Pericles were simpletons, what reason can be given why he
neglects you, and lets you be as you are?
ALCIBIADES: I believe that I am to blame for not listening
to him.
SOCRATES: But did you ever hear of any other Athenian or
foreigner, bond or free, who was deemed to have grown wiser
in the society of Pericles,--as I might cite Pythodorus,
the son of Isolochus, and Callias, the son of Calliades,
who have grown wiser in the society of Zeno, for which
privilege they have each of them paid him the sum of a
hundred minae (about 406 pounds sterling) to the increase
of their wisdom and fame.
ALCIBIADES: I certainly never did hear of any one.
SOCRATES: Well, and in reference to your own case, do you
mean to remain as you are, or will you take some pains
about yourself?
ALCIBIADES: With your aid, Socrates, I will. And indeed,
when I hear you speak, the truth of what you are saying
strikes home to me, and I agree with you, for our
statesmen, all but a few, do appear to be quite uneducated.
SOCRATES: What is the inference?
ALCIBIADES: Why, that if they were educated they would be
trained athletes, and he who means to rival them ought to
have knowledge and experience when he attacks them; but
now, as they have become politicians without any special
training, why should I have the trouble of learning and
practising? For I know well that by the light of nature I
shall get the better of them.
SOCRATES: My dear friend, what a sentiment! And how
unworthy of your noble form and your high estate!
ALCIBIADES: What do you mean, Socrates; why do you say so?
SOCRATES: I am grieved when I think of our mutual love.
ALCIBIADES: At what?
SOCRATES: At your fancying that the contest on which you
are entering is with people here.
ALCIBIADES: Why, what others are there?
SOCRATES: Is that a question which a magnanimous soul
should ask?
ALCIBIADES: Do you mean to say that the contest is not with
these?
SOCRATES: And suppose that you were going to steer a ship
into action, would you only aim at being the best pilot on
board? Would you not, while acknowledging that you must
possess this degree of excellence, rather look to your
antagonists, and not, as you are now doing, to your fellow
combatants? You ought to be so far above these latter, that
they will not even dare to be your rivals; and, being
regarded by you as inferiors, will do battle for you
against the enemy; this is the kind of superiority which
you must establish over them, if you mean to accomplish any
noble action really worthy of yourself and of the state.
ALCIBIADES: That would certainly be my aim.
SOCRATES: Verily, then, you have good reason to be
satisfied, if you are better than the soldiers; and you
need not, when you are their superior and have your
thoughts and actions fixed upon them, look away to the
generals of the enemy.
ALCIBIADES: Of whom are you speaking, Socrates?
SOCRATES: Why, you surely know that our city goes to war
now and then with the Lacedaemonians and with the great
king?
ALCIBIADES: True enough.
SOCRATES: And if you meant to be the ruler of this city,
would you not be right in considering that the
Lacedaemonian and Persian king were your true rivals?
ALCIBIADES: I believe that you are right.
SOCRATES: Oh no, my friend, I am quite wrong, and I think
that you ought rather to turn your attention to Midias the
quail-breeder and others like him, who manage our politics;
in whom, as the women would remark, you may still see the
slaves’ cut of hair, cropping out in their minds as well as
on their pates; and they come with their barbarous lingo to
flatter us and not to rule us. To these, I say, you should
look, and then you need not trouble yourself about your own
fitness to contend in such a noble arena: there is no
reason why you should either learn what has to be learned,
or practise what has to be practised, and only when
thoroughly prepared enter on a political career.
ALCIBIADES: There, I think, Socrates, that you are right; I
do not suppose, however, that the Spartan generals or the
great king are really different from anybody else.
SOCRATES: But, my dear friend, do consider what you are
saying.
ALCIBIADES: What am I to consider?
SOCRATES: In the first place, will you be more likely to
take care of yourself, if you are in a wholesome fear and
dread of them, or if you are not?
ALCIBIADES: Clearly, if I have such a fear of them.
SOCRATES: And do you think that you will sustain any injury
if you take care of yourself?
ALCIBIADES: No, I shall be greatly benefited.
SOCRATES: And this is one very important respect in which
that notion of yours is bad.
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: In the next place, consider that what you say is
probably false.
ALCIBIADES: How so?
SOCRATES: Let me ask you whether better natures are likely
to be found in noble races or not in noble races?
ALCIBIADES: Clearly in noble races.
SOCRATES: Are not those who are well born and well bred
most likely to be perfect in virtue?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: Then let us compare our antecedents with those of
the Lacedaemonian and Persian kings; are they inferior to
us in descent? Have we not heard that the former are sprung
from Heracles, and the latter from Achaemenes, and that the
race of Heracles and the race of Achaemenes go back to
Perseus, son of Zeus?
ALCIBIADES: Why, so does mine go back to Eurysaces, and he
to Zeus!
SOCRATES: And mine, noble Alcibiades, to Daedalus, and he
to Hephaestus, son of Zeus. But, for all that, we are far
inferior to them. For they are descended ‘from Zeus,’
through a line of kings-either kings of Argos and
Lacedaemon, or kings of Persia, a country which the
descendants of Achaemenes have always possessed, besides
being at various times sovereigns of Asia, as they now are;
whereas, we and our fathers were but private persons. How
ridiculous would you be thought if you were to make a
display of your ancestors and of Salamis the island of
Eurysaces, or of Aegina, the habitation of the still more
ancient Aeacus, before Artaxerxes, son of Xerxes. You
should consider how inferior we are to them both in the
derivation of our birth and in other particulars. Did you
never observe how great is the property of the Spartan
kings? And their wives are under the guardianship of the
Ephori, who are public officers and watch over them, in
order to preserve as far as possible the purity of the
Heracleid blood. Still greater is the difference among the
Persians; for no one entertains a suspicion that the father
of a prince of Persia can be any one but the king. Such is
the awe which invests the person of the queen, that any
other guard is needless. And when the heir of the kingdom
is born, all the subjects of the king feast; and the day of
his birth is for ever afterwards kept as a holiday and time
of sacrifice by all Asia; whereas, when you and I were
born, Alcibiades, as the comic poet says, the neighbours
hardly knew of the important event. After the birth of the
royal child, he is tended, not by a good-for-nothing
woman-nurse, but by the best of the royal eunuchs, who are
charged with the care of him, and especially with the
fashioning and right formation of his limbs, in order that
he may be as shapely as possible; which being their
calling, they are held in great honour. And when the young
prince is seven years old he is put upon a horse and taken
to the riding-masters, and begins to go out hunting. And at
fourteen years of age he is handed over to the royal
schoolmasters, as they are termed: these are four chosen
men, reputed to be the best among the Persians of a certain
age; and one of them is the wisest, another the justest, a
third the most temperate, and a fourth the most valiant.
The first instructs him in the magianism of Zoroaster, the
son of Oromasus, which is the worship of the Gods, and
teaches him also the duties of his royal office; the
second, who is the justest, teaches him always to speak the
truth; the third, or most temperate, forbids him to allow
any pleasure to be lord over him, that he may be accustomed
to be a freeman and king indeed,--lord of himself first,
and not a slave; the most valiant trains him to be bold and
fearless, telling him that if he fears he is to deem
himself a slave; whereas Pericles gave you, Alcibiades, for
a tutor Zopyrus the Thracian, a slave of his who was past
all other work. I might enlarge on the nurture and
education of your rivals, but that would be tedious; and
what I have said is a sufficient sample of what remains to
be said. I have only to remark, by way of contrast, that no
one cares about your birth or nurture or education, or, I
may say, about that of any other Athenian, unless he has a
lover who looks after him. And if you cast an eye on the
wealth, the luxury, the garments with their flowing trains,
the anointings with myrrh, the multitudes of attendants,
and all the other bravery of the Persians, you will be
ashamed when you discern your own inferiority; or if you
look at the temperance and orderliness and ease and grace
and magnanimity and courage and endurance and love of toil
and desire of glory and ambition of the Lacedaemonians-in
all these respects you will see that you are but a child in
comparison of them. Even in the matter of wealth, if you
value yourself upon that, I must reveal to you how you
stand; for if you form an estimate of the wealth of the
Lacedaemonians, you will see that our possessions fall far
short of theirs. For no one here can compete with them
either in the extent and fertility of their own and the
Messenian territory, or in the number of their slaves, and
especially of the Helots, or of their horses, or of the
animals which feed on the Messenian pastures. But I have
said enough of this: and as to gold and silver, there is
more of them in Lacedaemon than in all the rest of Hellas,
for during many generations gold has been always flowing in
to them from the whole Hellenic world, and often from the
barbarian also, and never going out, as in the fable of
Aesop the fox said to the lion, ‘The prints of the feet of
those going in are distinct enough;’ but who ever saw the
trace of money going out of Lacedaemon? And therefore you
may safely infer that the inhabitants are the richest of
the Hellenes in gold and silver, and that their kings are
the richest of them, for they have a larger share of these
things, and they have also a tribute paid to them which is
very considerable. Yet the Spartan wealth, though great in
comparison of the wealth of the other Hellenes, is as
nothing in comparison of that of the Persians and their
kings. Why, I have been informed by a credible person who
went up to the king (at Susa), that he passed through a
large tract of excellent land, extending for nearly a day’s
journey, which the people of the country called the queen’s
girdle, and another, which they called her veil; and
several other fair and fertile districts, which were
reserved for the adornment of the queen, and are named
after her several habiliments. Now, I cannot help
thinking to myself, What if some one were to go to
Amestris, the wife of Xerxes and mother of Artaxerxes, and
say to her, There is a certain Dinomache, whose whole
wardrobe is not worth fifty minae-and that will be more
than the value-and she has a son who is possessed of a
three-hundred acre patch at Erchiae, and he has a mind to
go to war with your son-would she not wonder to what this
Alcibiades trusts for success in the conflict? ‘He must
rely,’ she would say to herself, ‘upon his training and
wisdom-these are the things which Hellenes value.’ And if
she heard that this Alcibiades who is making the attempt is
not as yet twenty years old, and is wholly uneducated, and
when his lover tells him that he ought to get education and
training first, and then go and fight the king, he refuses,
and says that he is well enough as he is, would she not be
amazed, and ask ‘On what, then, does the youth rely?’ And
if we replied: He relies on his beauty, and stature, and
birth, and mental endowments, she would think that we were
mad, Alcibiades, when she compared the advantages which you
possess with those of her own people. And I believe that
even Lampido, the daughter of Leotychides, the wife of
Archidamus and mother of Agis, all of whom were kings,
would have the same feeling; if, in your present uneducated
state, you were to turn your thoughts against her son, she
too would be equally astonished. But how disgraceful, that
we should not have as high a notion of what is required in
us as our enemies’ wives and mothers have of the qualities
which are required in their assailants! O my friend, be
persuaded by me, and hear the Delphian inscription, ‘Know
thyself’-not the men whom you think, but these kings are
our rivals, and we can only overcome them by pains and
skill. And if you fail in the required qualities, you will
fail also in becoming renowned among Hellenes and
Barbarians, which you seem to desire more than any other
man ever desired anything.
ALCIBIADES: I entirely believe you; but what are the sort
of pains which are required, Socrates,--can you tell me?
SOCRATES: Yes, I can; but we must take counsel together
concerning the manner in which both of us may be most
improved. For what I am telling you of the necessity of
education applies to myself as well as to you; and there is
only one point in which I have an advantage over you.
ALCIBIADES: What is that?
SOCRATES: I have a guardian who is better and wiser than
your guardian, Pericles.
ALCIBIADES: Who is he, Socrates?
SOCRATES: God, Alcibiades, who up to this day has not
allowed me to converse with you; and he inspires in me the
faith that I am especially designed to bring you to honour.
ALCIBIADES: You are jesting, Socrates.
SOCRATES: Perhaps, at any rate, I am right in saying that
all men greatly need pains and care, and you and I above
all men.
ALCIBIADES: You are not far wrong about me.
SOCRATES: And certainly not about myself.
ALCIBIADES: But what can we do?
SOCRATES: There must be no hesitation or cowardice, my
friend.
ALCIBIADES: That would not become us, Socrates.
SOCRATES: No, indeed, and we ought to take counsel
together: for do we not wish to be as good as possible?
ALCIBIADES: We do.
SOCRATES: In what sort of virtue?
ALCIBIADES: Plainly, in the virtue of good men.
SOCRATES: Who are good in what?
ALCIBIADES: Those, clearly, who are good in the management
of affairs.
SOCRATES: What sort of affairs? Equestrian affairs?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: You mean that about them we should have recourse
to horsemen?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: Well, naval affairs?
ALCIBIADES: No.
SOCRATES: You mean that we should have recourse to sailors
about them?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: Then what affairs? And who do them?
ALCIBIADES: The affairs which occupy Athenian gentlemen.
SOCRATES: And when you speak of gentlemen, do you mean the
wise or the unwise?
ALCIBIADES: The wise.
SOCRATES: And a man is good in respect of that in which he
is wise?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And evil in respect of that in which he is
unwise?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: The shoemaker, for example, is wise in respect of
the making of shoes?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: Then he is good in that?
ALCIBIADES: He is.
SOCRATES: But in respect of the making of garments he is
unwise?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: Then in that he is bad?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: Then upon this view of the matter the same man is
good and also bad?
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: But would you say that the good are the same as
the bad?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: Then whom do you call the good?
ALCIBIADES: I mean by the good those who are able to rule
in the city.
SOCRATES: Not, surely, over horses?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: But over men?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: When they are sick?
ALCIBIADES: No.
SOCRATES: Or on a voyage?
ALCIBIADES: No.
SOCRATES: Or reaping the harvest?
ALCIBIADES: No.
SOCRATES: When they are doing something or nothing?
ALCIBIADES: When they are doing something, I should say.
SOCRATES: I wish that you would explain to me what this
something is.
ALCIBIADES: When they are having dealings with one another,
and using one another’s services, as we citizens do in our
daily life.
SOCRATES: Those of whom you speak are ruling over men who
are using the services of other men?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: Are they ruling over the signal-men who give the
time to the rowers?
ALCIBIADES: No; they are not.
SOCRATES: That would be the office of the pilot?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: But, perhaps you mean that they rule over
flute-players, who lead the singers and use the services of
the dancers?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: That would be the business of the teacher of the
chorus?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: Then what is the meaning of being able to rule
over men who use other men?
ALCIBIADES: I mean that they rule over men who have common
rights of citizenship, and dealings with one another.
SOCRATES: And what sort of an art is this? Suppose that I
ask you again, as I did just now, What art makes men know
how to rule over their fellow-sailors,--how would you
answer?
ALCIBIADES: The art of the pilot.
SOCRATES: And, if I may recur to another old instance, what
art enables them to rule over their fellow-singers?
ALCIBIADES: The art of the teacher of the chorus, which you
were just now mentioning.
SOCRATES: And what do you call the art of fellow-citizens?
ALCIBIADES: I should say, good counsel, Socrates.
SOCRATES: And is the art of the pilot evil counsel?
ALCIBIADES: No.
SOCRATES: But good counsel?
ALCIBIADES: Yes, that is what I should say,--good counsel,
of which the aim is the preservation of the voyagers.
SOCRATES: True. And what is the aim of that other good
counsel of which you speak?
ALCIBIADES: The aim is the better order and preservation of
the city.
SOCRATES: And what is that of which the absence or presence
improves and preserves the order of the city? Suppose you
were to ask me, what is that of which the presence or
absence improves or preserves the order of the body? I
should reply, the presence of health and the absence of
disease. You would say the same?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And if you were to ask me the same question about
the eyes, I should reply in the same way, ‘the presence of
sight and the absence of blindness;’ or about the ears, I
should reply, that they were improved and were in better
case, when deafness was absent, and hearing was present in
them.
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: And what would you say of a state? What is that
by the presence or absence of which the state is improved
and better managed and ordered?
ALCIBIADES: I should say, Socrates:--the presence of
friendship and the absence of hatred and division.
SOCRATES: And do you mean by friendship agreement or
disagreement?
ALCIBIADES: Agreement.
SOCRATES: What art makes cities agree about numbers?
ALCIBIADES: Arithmetic.
SOCRATES: And private individuals?
ALCIBIADES: The same.
SOCRATES: And what art makes each individual agree with
himself?
ALCIBIADES: The same.
SOCRATES: And what art makes each of us agree with himself
about the comparative length of the span and of the cubit?
Does not the art of measure?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: Individuals are agreed with one another about
this; and states, equally?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And the same holds of the balance?
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: But what is the other agreement of which you
speak, and about what? what art can give that agreement?
And does that which gives it to the state give it also to
the individual, so as to make him consistent with himself
and with another?
ALCIBIADES: I should suppose so.
SOCRATES: But what is the nature of the agreement?--answer,
and faint not.
ALCIBIADES: I mean to say that there should be such
friendship and agreement as exists between an affectionate
father and mother and their son, or between brothers, or
between husband and wife.
SOCRATES: But can a man, Alcibiades, agree with a woman
about the spinning of wool, which she understands and he
does not?
ALCIBIADES: No, truly.
SOCRATES: Nor has he any need, for spinning is a female
accomplishment.
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And would a woman agree with a man about the
science of arms, which she has never learned?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: I suppose that the use of arms would be regarded
by you as a male accomplishment?
ALCIBIADES: It would.
SOCRATES: Then, upon your view, women and men have two
sorts of knowledge?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: Then in their knowledge there is no agreement of
women and men?
ALCIBIADES: There is not.
SOCRATES: Nor can there be friendship, if friendship is
agreement?
ALCIBIADES: Plainly not.
SOCRATES: Then women are not loved by men when they do
their own work?
ALCIBIADES: I suppose not.
SOCRATES: Nor men by women when they do their own work?
ALCIBIADES: No.
SOCRATES: Nor are states well administered, when
individuals do their own work?
ALCIBIADES: I should rather think, Socrates, that the
reverse is the truth. (Compare Republic.)
SOCRATES: What! do you mean to say that states are well
administered when friendship is absent, the presence of
which, as we were saying, alone secures their good order?
ALCIBIADES: But I should say that there is friendship among
them, for this very reason, that the two parties
respectively do their own work.
SOCRATES: That was not what you were saying before; and
what do you mean now by affirming that friendship exists
when there is no agreement? How can there be agreement
about matters which the one party knows, and of which the
other is in ignorance?
ALCIBIADES: Impossible.
SOCRATES: And when individuals are doing their own work,
are they doing what is just or unjust?
ALCIBIADES: What is just, certainly.
SOCRATES: And when individuals do what is just in the
state, is there no friendship among them?
ALCIBIADES: I suppose that there must be, Socrates.
SOCRATES: Then what do you mean by this friendship or
agreement about which we must be wise and discreet in order
that we may be good men? I cannot make out where it exists
or among whom; according to you, the same persons may
sometimes have it, and sometimes not.
ALCIBIADES: But, indeed, Socrates, I do not know what I am
saying; and I have long been, unconsciously to myself, in a
most disgraceful state.
SOCRATES: Nevertheless, cheer up; at fifty, if you had
discovered your deficiency, you would have been too old,
and the time for taking care of yourself would have passed
away, but yours is just the age at which the discovery
should be made.
ALCIBIADES: And what should he do, Socrates, who would make
the discovery?
SOCRATES: Answer questions, Alcibiades; and that is a
process which, by the grace of God, if I may put any faith
in my oracle, will be very improving to both of us.
ALCIBIADES: If I can be improved by answering, I will
answer.
SOCRATES: And first of all, that we may not peradventure be
deceived by appearances, fancying, perhaps, that we are
taking care of ourselves when we are not, what is the
meaning of a man taking care of himself? and when does he
take care? Does he take care of himself when he takes care
of what belongs to him?
ALCIBIADES: I should think so.
SOCRATES: When does a man take care of his feet? Does he
not take care of them when he takes care of that which
belongs to his feet?
ALCIBIADES: I do not understand.
SOCRATES: Let me take the hand as an illustration; does not
a ring belong to the finger, and to the finger only?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And the shoe in like manner to the foot?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And when we take care of our shoes, do we not
take care of our feet?
ALCIBIADES: I do not comprehend, Socrates.
SOCRATES: But you would admit, Alcibiades, that to take
proper care of a thing is a correct expression?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And taking proper care means improving?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And what is the art which improves our shoes?
ALCIBIADES: Shoemaking.
SOCRATES: Then by shoemaking we take care of our shoes?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And do we by shoemaking take care of our feet, or
by some other art which improves the feet?
ALCIBIADES: By some other art.
SOCRATES: And the same art improves the feet which improves
the rest of the body?
ALCIBIADES: Very true.
SOCRATES: Which is gymnastic?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: Then by gymnastic we take care of our feet, and
by shoemaking of that which belongs to our feet?
ALCIBIADES: Very true.
SOCRATES: And by gymnastic we take care of our hands, and
by the art of graving rings of that which belongs to our
hands?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And by gymnastic we take care of the body, and by
the art of weaving and the other arts we take care of the
things of the body?
ALCIBIADES: Clearly.
SOCRATES: Then the art which takes care of each thing is
different from that which takes care of the belongings of
each thing?
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: Then in taking care of what belongs to you, you
do not take care of yourself?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: For the art which takes care of our belongings
appears not to be the same as that which takes care of
ourselves?
ALCIBIADES: Clearly not.
SOCRATES: And now let me ask you what is the art with which
we take care of ourselves?
ALCIBIADES: I cannot say.
SOCRATES: At any rate, thus much has been admitted, that
the art is not one which makes any of our possessions, but
which makes ourselves better?
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: But should we ever have known what art makes a
shoe better, if we did not know a shoe?
ALCIBIADES: Impossible.
SOCRATES: Nor should we know what art makes a ring better,
if we did not know a ring?
ALCIBIADES: That is true.
SOCRATES: And can we ever know what art makes a man better,
if we do not know what we are ourselves?
ALCIBIADES: Impossible.
SOCRATES: And is self-knowledge such an easy thing, and was
he to be lightly esteemed who inscribed the text on the
temple at Delphi? Or is self-knowledge a difficult thing,
which few are able to attain?
ALCIBIADES: At times I fancy, Socrates, that anybody can
know himself; at other times the task appears to be very
difficult.
SOCRATES: But whether easy or difficult, Alcibiades, still
there is no other way; knowing what we are, we shall know
how to take care of ourselves, and if we are ignorant we
shall not know.
ALCIBIADES: That is true.
SOCRATES: Well, then, let us see in what way the
self-existent can be discovered by us; that will give us a
chance of discovering our own existence, which otherwise we
can never know.
ALCIBIADES: You say truly.
SOCRATES: Come, now, I beseech you, tell me with whom you
are conversing?
• with whom but with me?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: As I am, with you?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: That is to say, I, Socrates, am talking?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And Alcibiades is my hearer?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And I in talking use words?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: And talking and using words have, I suppose, the
same meaning?
ALCIBIADES: To be sure.
SOCRATES: And the user is not the same as the thing which
he uses?
ALCIBIADES: What do you mean?
SOCRATES: I will explain; the shoemaker, for example, uses
a square tool, and a circular tool, and other tools for
cutting?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: But the tool is not the same as the cutter and
user of the tool?
ALCIBIADES: Of course not.
SOCRATES: And in the same way the instrument of the harper
is to be distinguished from the harper himself?
ALCIBIADES: It is.
SOCRATES: Now the question which I asked was whether you
conceive the user to be always different from that which he
uses?
ALCIBIADES: I do.
SOCRATES: Then what shall we say of the shoemaker? Does he
cut with his tools only or with his hands?
ALCIBIADES: With his hands as well.
SOCRATES: He uses his hands too?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And does he use his eyes in cutting leather?
ALCIBIADES: He does.
SOCRATES: And we admit that the user is not the same with
the things which he uses?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: Then the shoemaker and the harper are to be
distinguished from the hands and feet which they use?
ALCIBIADES: Clearly.
SOCRATES: And does not a man use the whole body?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: And that which uses is different from that which
is used?
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: Then a man is not the same as his own body?
ALCIBIADES: That is the inference.
SOCRATES: What is he, then?
ALCIBIADES: I cannot say.
SOCRATES: Nay, you can say that he is the user of the body.
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And the user of the body is the soul?
ALCIBIADES: Yes, the soul.
SOCRATES: And the soul rules?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: Let me make an assertion which will, I think, be
universally admitted.
ALCIBIADES: What is it?
SOCRATES: That man is one of three things.
ALCIBIADES: What are they?
SOCRATES: Soul, body, or both together forming a whole.
ALCIBIADES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: But did we not say that the actual ruling
principle of the body is man?
ALCIBIADES: Yes, we did.
SOCRATES: And does the body rule over itself?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: It is subject, as we were saying?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: Then that is not the principle which we are
seeking?
ALCIBIADES: It would seem not.
SOCRATES: But may we say that the union of the two rules
over the body, and consequently that this is man?
ALCIBIADES: Very likely.
SOCRATES: The most unlikely of all things; for if one of
the members is subject, the two united cannot possibly
rule.
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: But since neither the body, nor the union of the
two, is man, either man has no real existence, or the soul
is man?
ALCIBIADES: Just so.
SOCRATES: Is anything more required to prove that the soul
is man?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly not; the proof is, I think, quite
sufficient.
SOCRATES: And if the proof, although not perfect, be
sufficient, we shall be satisfied;--more precise proof will
be supplied when we have discovered that which we were led
to omit, from a fear that the enquiry would be too much
protracted.
ALCIBIADES: What was that?
SOCRATES: What I meant, when I said that absolute existence
must be first considered; but now, instead of absolute
existence, we have been considering the nature of
individual existence, and this may, perhaps, be sufficient;
for surely there is nothing which may be called more
properly ourselves than the soul?
ALCIBIADES: There is nothing.
SOCRATES: Then we may truly conceive that you and I are
conversing with one another, soul to soul?
ALCIBIADES: Very true.
SOCRATES: And that is just what I was saying before-that I,
Socrates, am not arguing or talking with the face of
Alcibiades, but with the real Alcibiades; or in other
words, with his soul.
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: Then he who bids a man know himself, would have
him know his soul?
ALCIBIADES: That appears to be true.
SOCRATES: He whose knowledge only extends to the body,
knows the things of a man, and not the man himself?
ALCIBIADES: That is true.
SOCRATES: Then neither the physician regarded as a
physician, nor the trainer regarded as a trainer, knows
himself?
ALCIBIADES: He does not.
SOCRATES: The husbandmen and the other craftsmen are very
far from knowing themselves, for they would seem not even
to know their own belongings? When regarded in
relation to the arts which they practise they are even
further removed from self-knowledge, for they only know the
belongings of the body, which minister to the body.
ALCIBIADES: That is true.
SOCRATES: Then if temperance is the knowledge of self, in
respect of his art none of them is temperate?
ALCIBIADES: I agree.
SOCRATES: And this is the reason why their arts are
accounted vulgar, and are not such as a good man would
practise?
ALCIBIADES: Quite true.
SOCRATES: Again, he who cherishes his body cherishes not
himself, but what belongs to him?
ALCIBIADES: That is true.
SOCRATES: But he who cherishes his money, cherishes neither
himself nor his belongings, but is in a stage yet further
removed from himself?
ALCIBIADES: I agree.
SOCRATES: Then the money-maker has really ceased to be
occupied with his own concerns?
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: And if any one has fallen in love with the person
of Alcibiades, he loves not Alcibiades, but the belongings
of Alcibiades?
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: But he who loves your soul is the true lover?
ALCIBIADES: That is the necessary inference.
SOCRATES: The lover of the body goes away when the flower
of youth fades?
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: But he who loves the soul goes not away, as long
as the soul follows after virtue?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And I am the lover who goes not away, but remains
with you, when you are no longer young and the rest are
gone?
ALCIBIADES: Yes, Socrates; and therein you do well, and I
hope that you will remain.
SOCRATES: Then you must try to look your best.
ALCIBIADES: I will.
SOCRATES: The fact is, that there is only one lover of
Alcibiades the son of Cleinias; there neither is nor ever
has been seemingly any other; and he is his
darling,--Socrates, the son of Sophroniscus and Phaenarete.
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: And did you not say, that if I had not spoken
first, you were on the point of coming to me, and enquiring
why I only remained?
ALCIBIADES: That is true.
SOCRATES: The reason was that I loved you for your own
sake, whereas other men love what belongs to you; and your
beauty, which is not you, is fading away, just as your true
self is beginning to bloom. And I will never desert you, if
you are not spoiled and deformed by the Athenian people;
for the danger which I most fear is that you will become a
lover of the people and will be spoiled by them. Many a
noble Athenian has been ruined in this way. For the demus
of the great-hearted Erechteus is of a fair countenance,
but you should see him naked; wherefore observe the caution
which I give you.
ALCIBIADES: What caution?
SOCRATES: Practise yourself, sweet friend, in learning what
you ought to know, before you enter on politics; and then
you will have an antidote which will keep you out of harm’s
way.
ALCIBIADES: Good advice, Socrates, but I wish that you
would explain to me in what way I am to take care of
myself.
SOCRATES: Have we not made an advance? for we are at any
rate tolerably well agreed as to what we are, and there is
no longer any danger, as we once feared, that we might be
taking care not of ourselves, but of something which is not
ourselves.
ALCIBIADES: That is true.
SOCRATES: And the next step will be to take care of the
soul, and look to that?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: Leaving the care of our bodies and of our
properties to others?
ALCIBIADES: Very good.
SOCRATES: But how can we have a perfect knowledge of the
things of the soul?--For if we know them, then I suppose we
shall know ourselves. Can we really be ignorant of the
excellent meaning of the Delphian inscription, of which we
were just now speaking?
ALCIBIADES: What have you in your thoughts, Socrates?
SOCRATES: I will tell you what I suspect to be the meaning
and lesson of that inscription. Let me take an illustration
from sight, which I imagine to be the only one suitable to
my purpose.
ALCIBIADES: What do you mean?
SOCRATES: Consider; if some one were to say to the eye,
‘See thyself,’ as you might say to a man, ‘Know thyself,’
what is the nature and meaning of this precept? Would not
his meaning be:--That the eye should look at that in which
it would see itself?
ALCIBIADES: Clearly.
SOCRATES: And what are the objects in looking at which we
see ourselves?
ALCIBIADES: Clearly, Socrates, in looking at mirrors and
the like.
SOCRATES: Very true; and is there not something of the
nature of a mirror in our own eyes?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: Did you ever observe that the face of the person
looking into the eye of another is reflected as in a
mirror; and in the visual organ which is over against him,
and which is called the pupil, there is a sort of image of
the person looking?
ALCIBIADES: That is quite true.
SOCRATES: Then the eye, looking at another eye, and at that
in the eye which is most perfect, and which is the
instrument of vision, will there see itself?
ALCIBIADES: That is evident.
SOCRATES: But looking at anything else either in man or in
the world, and not to what resembles this, it will not see
itself?
ALCIBIADES: Very true.
SOCRATES: Then if the eye is to see itself, it must look at
the eye, and at that part of the eye where sight which is
the virtue of the eye resides?
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: And if the soul, my dear Alcibiades, is ever to
know herself, must she not look at the soul; and especially
at that part of the soul in which her virtue resides, and
to any other which is like this?
ALCIBIADES: I agree, Socrates.
SOCRATES: And do we know of any part of our souls more
divine than that which has to do with wisdom and knowledge?
ALCIBIADES: There is none.
SOCRATES: Then this is that part of the soul which
resembles the divine; and he who looks at this and at the
whole class of things divine, will be most likely to know
himself?
ALCIBIADES: Clearly.
SOCRATES: And self-knowledge we agree to be wisdom?
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: But if we have no self-knowledge and no wisdom,
can we ever know our own good and evil?
ALCIBIADES: How can we, Socrates?
SOCRATES: You mean, that if you did not know Alcibiades,
there would be no possibility of your knowing that what
belonged to Alcibiades was really his?
ALCIBIADES: It would be quite impossible.
SOCRATES: Nor should we know that we were the persons to
whom anything belonged, if we did not know ourselves?
ALCIBIADES: How could we?
SOCRATES: And if we did not know our own belongings,
neither should we know the belongings of our belongings?
ALCIBIADES: Clearly not.
SOCRATES: Then we were not altogether right in
acknowledging just now that a man may know what belongs to
him and yet not know himself; nay, rather he cannot even
know the belongings of his belongings; for the discernment
of the things of self, and of the things which belong to
the things of self, appear all to be the business of the
same man, and of the same art.
ALCIBIADES: So much may be supposed.
SOCRATES: And he who knows not the things which belong to
himself, will in like manner be ignorant of the things
which belong to others?
ALCIBIADES: Very true.
SOCRATES: And if he knows not the affairs of others, he
will not know the affairs of states?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: Then such a man can never be a statesman?
ALCIBIADES: He cannot.
SOCRATES: Nor an economist?
ALCIBIADES: He cannot.
SOCRATES: He will not know what he is doing?
ALCIBIADES: He will not.
SOCRATES: And will not he who is ignorant fall into error?
ALCIBIADES: Assuredly.
SOCRATES: And if he falls into error will he not fail both
in his public and private capacity?
ALCIBIADES: Yes, indeed.
SOCRATES: And failing, will he not be miserable?
ALCIBIADES: Very.
SOCRATES: And what will become of those for whom he is
acting?
ALCIBIADES: They will be miserable also.
SOCRATES: Then he who is not wise and good cannot be happy?
ALCIBIADES: He cannot.
SOCRATES: The bad, then, are miserable?
ALCIBIADES: Yes, very.
SOCRATES: And if so, not he who has riches, but he who has
wisdom, is delivered from his misery?
ALCIBIADES: Clearly.
SOCRATES: Cities, then, if they are to be happy, do not
want walls, or triremes, or docks, or numbers, or size,
Alcibiades, without virtue? (Compare Arist. Pol.)
ALCIBIADES: Indeed they do not.
SOCRATES: And you must give the citizens virtue, if you
mean to administer their affairs rightly or nobly?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: But can a man give that which he has not?
ALCIBIADES: Impossible.
SOCRATES: Then you or any one who means to govern and
superintend, not only himself and the things of himself,
but the state and the things of the state, must in the
first place acquire virtue.
ALCIBIADES: That is true.
SOCRATES: You have not therefore to obtain power or
authority, in order to enable you to do what you wish for
yourself and the state, but justice and wisdom.
ALCIBIADES: Clearly.
SOCRATES: You and the state, if you act wisely and justly,
will act according to the will of God?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: As I was saying before, you will look only at
what is bright and divine, and act with a view to them?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: In that mirror you will see and know yourselves
and your own good?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And so you will act rightly and well?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: In which case, I will be security for your
happiness.
ALCIBIADES: I accept the security.
SOCRATES: But if you act unrighteously, your eye will turn
to the dark and godless, and being in darkness and
ignorance of yourselves, you will probably do deeds of
darkness.
ALCIBIADES: Very possibly.
SOCRATES: For if a man, my dear Alcibiades, has the power
to do what he likes, but has no understanding, what is
likely to be the result, either to him as an individual or
to the state-for example, if he be sick and is able to do
what he likes, not having the mind of a physician-having
moreover tyrannical power, and no one daring to reprove
him, what will happen to him? Will he not be likely to have
his constitution ruined?
ALCIBIADES: That is true.
SOCRATES: Or again, in a ship, if a man having the power to
do what he likes, has no intelligence or skill in
navigation, do you see what will happen to him and to his
fellow-sailors?
ALCIBIADES: Yes; I see that they will all perish.
SOCRATES: And in like manner, in a state, and where there
is any power and authority which is wanting in virtue, will
not misfortune, in like manner, ensue?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: Not tyrannical power, then, my good Alcibiades,
should be the aim either of individuals or states, if they
would be happy, but virtue.
ALCIBIADES: That is true.
SOCRATES: And before they have virtue, to be commanded by a
superior is better for men as well as for children?
(Compare Arist. Pol.)
ALCIBIADES: That is evident.
SOCRATES: And that which is better is also nobler?
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: And what is nobler is more becoming?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: Then to the bad man slavery is more becoming,
because better?
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: Then vice is only suited to a slave?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And virtue to a freeman?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And, O my friend, is not the condition of a slave
to be avoided?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly, Socrates.
SOCRATES: And are you now conscious of your own state? And
do you know whether you are a freeman or not?
ALCIBIADES: I think that I am very conscious indeed of my
own state.
SOCRATES: And do you know how to escape out of a state
which I do not even like to name to my beauty?
ALCIBIADES: Yes, I do.
SOCRATES: How?
ALCIBIADES: By your help, Socrates.
SOCRATES: That is not well said, Alcibiades.
ALCIBIADES: What ought I to have said?
SOCRATES: By the help of God.
ALCIBIADES: I agree; and I further say, that our relations
are likely to be reversed. From this day forward, I must
and will follow you as you have followed me; I will be the
disciple, and you shall be my master.
SOCRATES: O that is rare! My love breeds another love: and
so like the stork I shall be cherished by the bird whom I
have hatched.
ALCIBIADES: Strange, but true; and henceforward I shall
begin to think about justice.
SOCRATES: And I hope that you will persist; although I have
fears, not because I doubt you; but I see the power of the
state, which may be too much for both of us.