[Sidenote: _Alcibiades I._]
[Sidenote: The pride of Alcibiades has been too much for his lovers.]
_Socrates._ I dare say that you may be surprised to find, =Steph.= 103
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 104
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.
[Sidenote: _The extravagant aspiration_]
_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[55]? I do
really wonder what you mean, and should greatly like to
know.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ Certainly, let me hear.
_Soc._ You had better be careful, for I may very likely be as
unwilling to end as I have hitherto been to begin.
_Al._ Proceed, my good man, and I will listen.
[Sidenote: Alcibiades a lover, not of pleasure, but of ambition; and he
requires the help of Socrates for the accomplishment of his designs.]
[Sidenote: And this is the reason why Socrates has clung to him; he is
hoping when Alcibiades has become the ruler of Athens to rule over him.]
[Sidenote: _in which Alcibiades indulges._]
_Soc._ I will proceed; and, although no lover likes to speak
with one who has no feeling of love in him[56], I will make an
effort, and tell you what I meant: My love, Alcibiades, which 105
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 Dinomachè. 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
have 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[57] 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 106
you; but now, having his permission, I will speak, for now
you will listen to me.
[Sidenote: Alcibiades does not deny the impeachment.]
[Sidenote: _The qualifications of Alcibiades for statesmanship_]
_Al._ 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?
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ Yes, if the favour which you mean be not a troublesome
one.
_Soc._ Will you be troubled at having questions to answer?
[Sidenote: Alcibiades is willing to answer questions.]
_Al._ Not at all.
_Soc._ Then please to answer.
_Al._ Ask me.
_Soc._ Have you not the intention which I attribute to
you?
_Al._ I will grant anything you like, in the hope of hearing
what more you have to say.
_Soc._ 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?
[Sidenote: He is going to advise the Athenians about matters which he
knows better than they.]
_Al._ I should reply, that I was going to advise them about a
matter which I do know better than they.
_Soc._ Then you are a good adviser about the things which
you know?
_Al._ Certainly.
_Soc._ And do you know anything but what you have learned
of others, or found out yourself?
_Al._ That is all.
_Soc._ And would you have ever learned or discovered anything,
if you had not been willing either to learn of others or
to examine yourself?
_Al._ I should not.
[Sidenote: _are tested by Socrates._]
_Soc._ And would you have been willing to learn or to
examine what you supposed that you knew?
_Al._ Certainly not.
_Soc._ Then there was a time when you thought that you did
not know what you are now supposed to know?
_Al._ Certainly.
[Sidenote: But when did he ever learn about these matters?]
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ Yes, that was the whole of my schooling.
_Soc._ And are you going to get up in the Athenian assembly, 107
and give them advice about writing?
_Al._ No, indeed.
_Soc._ Or about the touch of the lyre?
_Al._ Certainly not.
_Soc._ And they are not in the habit of deliberating about
wrestling, in the assembly?
_Al._ Hardly.
_Soc._ Then what are the deliberations in which you propose
to advise them? Surely not about building?
_Al._ No.
_Soc._ For the builder will advise better than you will about
that?
_Al._ He will.
_Soc._ Nor about divination?
_Al._ No.
_Soc._ About that again the diviner will advise better than
you will?
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ Whether he be little or great, good or ill-looking,
noble or ignoble—makes no difference.
_Al._ Certainly not.
_Soc._ A man is a good adviser about anything, not because
he has riches, but because he has knowledge?
[Sidenote: _The cross-examination of_]
_Al._ Assuredly.
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ Of course.
_Soc._ Then what will be the subject of deliberation about
which you will be justified in getting up and advising them?
_Al._ About their own concerns, Socrates.
_Soc._ You mean about shipbuilding, for example, when the
question is what sort of ships they ought to build?
_Al._ No, I should not advise them about that.
_Soc._ I suppose, because you do not understand shipbuilding:—is
that the reason?
_Al._ It is.
_Soc._ Then about what concerns of theirs will you advise
them?
[Sidenote: He will advise them about war and peace, and with whom they
had better go to war, and when and how long.]
_Al._ About war, Socrates, or about peace, or about any
other concerns of the state.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And they ought to go to war with those against whom
it is better to go to war?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And when it is better?
_Al._ Certainly.
_Soc._ And for as long a time as is better?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ Clearly, the master of gymnastics.
_Soc._ 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?
[Sidenote: _Alcibiades is continued._]
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And as much as is best? 108
_Al._ Certainly.
_Soc._ And at such times as are best?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ Again; you sometimes accompany the lyre with the
song and dance?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ When it is well to do so?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And as much as is well?
_Al._ Just so.
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ I do not understand you.
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And was not the art of which I spoke gymnastic?
_Al._ Certainly.
_Soc._ And I called the excellence in wrestling gymnastic?
_Al._ You did.
_Soc._ And I was right?
_Al._ I think that you were.
[Sidenote: Alcibiades should learn to argue nicely.]
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ Indeed I cannot.
_Soc._ Then let me put the matter in another way: what
do you call the Goddesses who are the patronesses of
art?
_Al._ The Muses do you mean, Socrates?
_Soc._ Yes, I do; and what is the name of the art which is
called after them?
[Sidenote: _What is the better?_]
_Al._ I suppose that you mean music.
[Sidenote: What is the meaning of ‘the better,’ ‘the more excellent.’]
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ To be musical, I suppose.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ But I really cannot tell you.
[Sidenote: The term better, when applied to food, means more wholesome.]
_Soc._ 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? 109
_Al._ Very.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ I am thinking, and I cannot tell.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ Yes, certainly; we say that deceit or violence has been
employed, or that we have been defrauded.
_Soc._ And how does this happen? Will you tell me how?
For there may be a difference in the manner.
_Al._ Do you mean by ‘how,’ Socrates, whether we suffered
these things justly or unjustly?
_Soc._ Exactly.
_Al._ There can be no greater difference than between just
and unjust.
[Sidenote: _What is the better?_]
_Soc._ And would you advise the Athenians to go to war with
the just or with the unjust?
_Al._ 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.
_Soc._ He would not go to war, because it would be
unlawful?
_Al._ Neither lawful nor honourable.
_Soc._ Then you, too, would address them on principles of
justice?
_Al._ Certainly.
[Sidenote: In going to war or not going to war, the better is the more
just.]
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ Clearly.
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ You are mocking, Socrates.
[Sidenote: But where did Alcibiades acquire this notion of just and
unjust?]
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ But, perhaps, he does not exist; may I not have
acquired the knowledge of just and unjust in some other way?
_Soc._ Yes; if you have discovered them.
_Al._ But do you not think that I could discover them?
_Soc._ I am sure that you might, if you enquired about
them.
_Al._ And do you not think that I would enquire?
_Soc._ Yes; if you thought that you did not know them.
_Al._ And was there not a time when I did so think?
_Soc._ Very good; and can you tell me how long it is
since you thought that you did not know the nature of the 110
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.
[Sidenote: _The nature of just and unjust._]
_Al._ Well, I thought that I knew.
_Soc._ And two years ago, and three years ago, and four
years ago, you knew all the same?
_Al._ I did.
_Soc._ And more than four years ago you were a child—were
you not?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And then I am quite sure that you thought you knew.
_Al._ Why are you so sure?
[Sidenote: He always had them.]
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ But what was I to do, Socrates, when anybody cheated
me?
_Soc._ And how can you say, ‘What was I to do’? if at the
time you did not know whether you were wronged or not?
_Al._ To be sure I knew; I was quite aware that I was being
cheated.
_Soc._ Then you suppose yourself even when a child to have
known the nature of just and unjust?
_Al._ Certainly; and I did know then.
_Soc._ And when did you discover them—not, surely, at the
time when you thought that you knew them?
_Al._ Certainly not.
_Soc._ And when did you think that you were ignorant—if
you consider, you will find that there never was such a time?
_Al._ Really, Socrates, I cannot say.
_Soc._ Then you did not learn them by discovering them?
_Al._ Clearly not.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ 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.
[Sidenote: _Could the many have taught the principles of justice?_]
_Soc._ So you said before, and I must again ask, of whom?
Do tell me.
_Al._ Of the many.
[Sidenote: He learned them of the many, as he learned Greek;—of those who
knew it.]
_Soc._ Do you take refuge in them? I cannot say much for
your teachers.
_Al._ Why, are they not able to teach?
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And can they teach the better who are unable to teach
the worse?
_Al._ I think that they can; at any rate, they can teach many
far better things than to play at draughts.
_Soc._ What things? 111
_Al._ 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.
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ Why is that?
_Soc._ Why, because they have the qualities which good
teachers ought to have.
_Al._ What qualities?
_Soc._ Why, you know that knowledge is the first qualification
of any teacher?
_Al._ Certainly.
_Soc._ And if they know, they must agree together and not
differ?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And would you say that they knew the things about
which they differ?
_Al._ No.
_Soc._ Then how can they teach them?
_Al._ They cannot.
[Sidenote: Yes: the many can teach things about which they are agreed.]
_Soc._ 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.
[Sidenote: _That wars are caused by differences about just_]
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ They do not.
_Soc._ Then they may be expected to be good teachers of
these things?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ Very true.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ Certainly not.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ Yes.
[Sidenote: But could the many teach things about which they are
disagreed?]
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ They would not.
_Soc._ And you would have a proof that they were bad
teachers of these matters, if you saw them at variance?
_Al._ I should.
[Sidenote: And one of these things is justice.]
_Soc._ Well, but are the many agreed with themselves, or
with one another, about the justice or injustice of men and 112
things?
_Al._ Assuredly not, Socrates.
_Soc._ There is no subject about which they are more at
variance?
_Al._ None.
[Sidenote: _and unjust proved out of Homer._]
_Soc._ 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?
[Sidenote: Did not a question of justice cause the war between the
Trojans and Achaeans, and between the Athenians Lacedaemonians?]
_Al._ No indeed.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ To be sure, Socrates.
_Soc._ A difference of just and unjust is the argument of and
those poems?
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ Very true.
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ Very true.
[Sidenote: And yet they did not know what they were fighting about?]
_Soc._ But can they be said to understand that about which
they are quarrelling to the death?
_Al._ Clearly not.
_Soc._ And yet those whom you thus allow to be ignorant
are the teachers to whom you are appealing.
_Al._ Very true.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ From what you say, I suppose not.
_Soc._ See, again, how inaccurately you speak, Alcibiades!
_Al._ In what respect?
_Soc._ In saying that I say so.
_Al._ Why, did you not say that I know nothing of the just
and unjust?
_Soc._ No; I did not.
_Al._ Did I, then?
[Sidenote: _Is it Socrates or Alcibiades_]
_Soc._ Yes.
_Al._ How was that?
_Soc._ Let me explain. Suppose I were to ask you which
is the greater number, two or one; you would reply ‘two’?
_Al._ I should.
_Soc._ And by how much greater?
_Al._ By one.
_Soc._ Which of us now says that two is more than one?
_Al._ I do.
_Soc._ Did not I ask, and you answer the question?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ Then who is speaking? I who put the question, or 113
you who answer me?
_Al._ I am.
[Sidenote: The answerer, not the questioner, has been drawing these
inferences.]
_Soc._ Or suppose that I ask and you tell me the letters
which make up the name Socrates, which of us is the
speaker?
_Al._ I am.
_Soc._ Now let us put the case generally: whenever there is
a question and answer, who is the speaker,—the questioner
or the answerer?
_Al._ I should say, Socrates, that the answerer was the
speaker.
_Soc._ And have I not been the questioner all through?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And you the answerer?
_Al._ Just so.
_Soc._ Which of us, then, was the speaker?
_Al._ The inference is, Socrates, that I was the speaker.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ Very true.
[Sidenote: How can you teach what you do not know?]
_Soc._ 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.
[Sidenote: _who is the real speaker?_]
[Sidenote: But the expedient, not the just, is the subject about which
men commonly debate.]
_Al._ 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.
_Soc._ 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?
[Sidenote: Alcibiades insists that he will not have the old argument over
again.]
_Al._ Why not, Socrates?—But I am not going to be
asked again from whom I learned, or when I made the
discovery.
_Soc._ 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-out garment which you will no longer put on, but some
one must produce another which is clean and new. Now I 114
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.
_Al._ But I am not certain, Socrates, whether I shall be
able to discuss the matter with you.
_Soc._ 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.
[Sidenote: _Is the just the same_]
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ And about number, will not the same person persuade
one and persuade many?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And this will be he who knows number, or the arithmetician?
_Al._ Quite true.
[Sidenote: He who can persuade many can persuade one. Alcibiades should
therefore be able to persuade Socrates.]
_Soc._ And cannot you persuade one man about that of which
you can persuade many?
_Al._ I suppose so.
_Soc._ And that of which you can persuade either is clearly
what you know?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ I suppose so.
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ You take liberties, Socrates.
_Soc._ I shall take the liberty of proving to you the opposite
of that which you will not prove to me.
_Al._ Proceed.
_Soc._ Answer my questions—that is all.
_Al._ Nay, I should like you to be the speaker.
_Soc._ What, do you not wish to be persuaded?
_Al._ Certainly I do.
_Soc._ And can you be persuaded better than out of your
own mouth?
_Al._ I think not.
_Soc._ 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.
[Sidenote: _as the expedient or not?_]
_Al._ I won’t; but answer I will, for I do not see how I can
come to any harm.
[Sidenote: A man may do what is expedient and not just, but he cannot do
what is honourable and not just and good.]
_Soc._ A true prophecy! Let me begin then by enquiring of 115
you whether you allow that the just is sometimes expedient
and sometimes not?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And sometimes honourable and sometimes not?
_Al._ What do you mean?
_Soc._ I am asking if you ever knew any one who did what
was dishonourable and yet just?
_Al._ Never.
_Soc._ All just things are honourable?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And are honourable things sometimes good and sometimes
not good, or are they always good?
_Al._ I rather think, Socrates, that some honourable things
are evil.
_Soc._ And are some dishonourable things good?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ But evil in respect of death and wounds?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And the courage which is shown in the rescue is one
thing, and the death another?
_Al._ Certainly.
_Soc._ Then the rescue of one’s friends is honourable in one
point of view, but evil in another?
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ 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?
[Sidenote: _The comparative eligibility of goods._]
_Al._ Good.
_Soc._ And the greatest goods you would be most ready to
choose, and would least like to be deprived of them?
_Al._ Certainly.
_Soc._ What would you say of courage? At what price
would you be willing to be deprived of courage?
_Al._ I would rather die than be a coward.
_Soc._ Then you think that cowardice is the worst of evils?
_Al._ I do.
_Soc._ As bad as death, I suppose?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And life and courage are the extreme opposites of
death and cowardice?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And they are what you would most desire to have,
and their opposites you would least desire?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ Is this because you think life and courage the best,
and death and cowardice the worst?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And you would term the rescue of a friend in battle
honourable, in as much as courage does a good work?
_Al._ I should.
[Sidenote: But good may contain an element of evil. Good and evil are to
be judged of by their consequences.]
_Soc._ But evil because of the death which ensues?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ 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? 116
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And they are honourable in so far as they are good,
and dishonourable in so far as they are evil?
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ I believe that you are right, Socrates.
[Sidenote: _The honourable, the good, the expedient, all one._]
_Soc._ Nothing honourable, regarded as honourable, is evil;
nor anything base, regarded as base, good.
_Al._ Clearly not.
[Sidenote: The honourable is identified with the good, and the good is
the expedient, and therefore the just which is the honourable is also the
expedient. All this has been proved by Alcibiades himself.]
_Soc._ Look at the matter yet once more in a further light:
he who acts honourably acts well?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And he who acts well is happy?
_Al._ Of course.
_Soc._ And the happy are those who obtain good?
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ And they obtain good by acting well and honourably?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ Then acting well is a good?
_Al._ Certainly.
_Soc._ And happiness is a good?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ Then the good and the honourable are again identified.
_Al._ Manifestly.
_Soc._ Then, if the argument holds, what we find to be
honourable we shall also find to be good?
_Al._ Certainly.
_Soc._ And is the good expedient or not?
_Al._ Expedient.
_Soc._ Do you remember our admissions about the just?
_Al._ Yes; if I am not mistaken, we said that those who
acted justly must also act honourably.
_Soc._ And the honourable is the good?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And the good is expedient?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ Then, Alcibiades, the just is expedient?
_Al._ I should infer so.
_Soc._ And all this I prove out of your own mouth, for I ask
and you answer?
_Al._ I must acknowledge it to be true.
_Soc._ 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?
[Sidenote: _The conceit of knowledge_]
[Sidenote: Yet he still finds himself in a perplexity, and this is because
he thinks that he knows, but if he knew that he were ignorant he would be
in no perplexity.]
_Al._ 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.
_Soc._ And are you not aware of the nature of this perplexity,
my friend?
_Al._ Indeed I am not.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ I begin to distrust myself, but still I do not suppose 117
that I should.
_Soc._ You would feel no doubt; and for this reason—because
you would know?
_Al._ I suppose so.
_Soc._ And the reason why you involuntarily contradict
yourself is clearly that you are ignorant?
_Al._ Very likely.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ I agree.
_Soc._ But is this always the case, and is a man necessarily
perplexed about that of which he has no knowledge?
_Al._ Certainly he is.
_Soc._ And do you know how to ascend into heaven?
_Al._ Certainly not.
_Soc._ And in this case, too, is your judgment perplexed?
_Al._ No.
_Soc._ Do you see the reason why, or shall I tell you?
_Al._ Tell me.
_Soc._ The reason is, that you not only do not know, my
friend, but you do not think that you know.
_Al._ There again; what do you mean?
[Sidenote: _and the consciousness of ignorance._]
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ Very true.
_Soc._ And do you think and perplex yourself about the
preparation of food: or do you leave that to some one who
understands the art?
_Al._ The latter.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ It would be the concern of the pilot.
_Soc._ Then you are not perplexed about what you do not
know, if you know that you do not know it?
_Al._ I imagine not.
[Sidenote: The people who make mistakes are neither those who know, nor
those who do not know, but those who think that they know and do not
know.]
_Soc._ Do you not see, then, that mistakes in life and
practice are likewise to be attributed to the ignorance which
has conceit of knowledge?
_Al._ Once more, what do you mean?
_Soc._ I suppose that we begin to act when we think that we
know what we are doing?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ But when people think that they do not know, they
entrust their business to others?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ Who, then, are the persons who make mistakes?
They cannot, of course, be those who know?
_Al._ Certainly not.
_Soc._ But if neither those who know, nor those who know
that they do not know, make mistakes, there remain those 118
only who do not know and think that they know.
_Al._ Yes, only those.
_Soc._ Then this is ignorance of the disgraceful sort which is
mischievous?
_Al._ Yes.
[Sidenote: _Pericles and the philosophers._]
_Soc._ And most mischievous and most disgraceful when
having to do with the greatest matters?
_Al._ By far.
_Soc._ And can there be any matters greater than the just,
the honourable, the good, and the expedient?
_Al._ There cannot be.
_Soc._ And these, as you were saying, are what perplex you?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ I fear that you are right.
[Sidenote: And you, like other statesmen, rush into politics without
being trained. Pericles, alone of them all, associated with the
philosophers.]
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ 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.
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And you, whom he taught, can do the same?
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ And in like manner the harper and gymnastic-master?
_Al._ Certainly.
_Soc._ When a person is enabled to impart knowledge to
another, he thereby gives an excellent proof of his own
understanding of any matter.
_Al._ I agree.
[Sidenote: _The higher standard._]
_Soc._ Well, and did Pericles make any one wise; did he
begin by making his sons wise?
_Al._ But, Socrates, if the two sons of Pericles were simpletons,
what has that to do with the matter?
[Sidenote: And even he could not teach his own sons, or your brother
Cleinias, nor did any one ever grow wiser in his society.]
_Soc._ Well, but did he make your brother, Cleinias, wise?
_Al._ Cleinias is a madman; there is no use in talking of
him.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ I believe that I am to blame for not listening to him.
_Soc._ 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, 119
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[58] to the increase of their wisdom and fame.
_Al._ I certainly never did hear of any one.
_Soc._ Well, and in reference to your own case, do you
mean to remain as you are, or will you take some pains
about yourself?
[Sidenote: But if other statesmen are uneducated, what need has
Alcibiades of education?]
_Al._ 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.
_Soc._ What is the inference?
_Al._ 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.
[Sidenote: The lover is pained at hearing from the lips of Alcibiades]
_Soc._ My dear friend, what a sentiment! And how unworthy
of your noble form and your high estate!
_Al._ What do you mean, Socrates; why do you say so?
_Soc._ I am grieved when I think of our mutual love.
_Al._ At what?
[Sidenote: _The Spartan kings._]
[Sidenote: so unworthy a sentiment. He should have a higher ambition than
this.]
_Soc._ At your fancying that the contest on which you are
entering is with people here.
_Al._ Why, what others are there?
_Soc._ Is that a question which a magnanimous soul should
ask?
_Al._ Do you mean to say that the contest is not with these?
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ That would certainly be my aim.
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ Of whom are you speaking, Socrates?
[Sidenote: His rivals should be the Spartan and Persian kings, not any
chance persons.]
_Soc._ Why, you surely know that our city goes to war 120
now and then with the Lacedaemonians and with the great
king?
_Al._ True enough.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ I believe that you are right.
[Sidenote: _The greatness of the royal family of Persia._]
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ 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.
_Soc._ But, my dear friend, do consider what you are saying.
_Al._ What am I to consider?
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ Clearly, if I have such a fear of them.
_Soc._ And do you think that you will sustain any injury if
you take care of yourself?
_Al._ No, I shall be greatly benefited.
_Soc._ And this is one very important respect in which that
notion of yours is bad.
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ In the next place, consider that what you say is
probably false.
_Al._ How so?
_Soc._ Let me ask you whether better natures are likely to
be found in noble races or not in noble races?
_Al._ Clearly in noble races.
_Soc._ Are not those who are well born and well bred most
likely to be perfect in virtue?
_Al._ Certainly.
[Sidenote: We too have our pride of birth, but how inferior are we to
those who are descended from Zeus through a line of kings!]
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ Why, so does mine go back to Eurysaces, and he to 121
Zeus!
[Sidenote: _The education of the Persian princes._]
[Sidenote: The wealth and dignity of the Spartan kings is great, but it
is as nothing compared with that of the Persians.]
_Soc._ 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.
[Sidenote: The birth of the Persian princes is a world-famous event, and
the utmost pains is taken with their education, which is entrusted to
great and noble persons.]
[Sidenote: _The wealth of the Spartans._]
[Sidenote: When Alcibiades was born nobody knew or cared, and his
education was handed over to a worn-out slave of his guardian’s.]
[Sidenote: _The great inferiority of Alcibiades._]
[Sidenote: The country called the ‘queen’s girdle,’ the ‘queen’s veil,’
and the like.]
[Sidenote: The queen of Persia or of Sparta, if they heard that a youth
of twenty, without resources and without education, was going to attack
their son or husband, would deem him mad.]
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 122
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 123
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
Dinomachè, 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 124
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.
[Sidenote: _The necessity of education._]
_Al._ I entirely believe you; but what are the sort of pains
which are required, Socrates,—can you tell me?
[Sidenote: I too need education; and God, who is my guardian, inspires me
with the belief that I shall bring you to honour.]
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ What is that?
_Soc._ I have a guardian who is better and wiser than your
guardian, Pericles.
_Al._ Who is he, Socrates?
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ You are jesting, Socrates.
_Soc._ Perhaps; at any rate, I am right in saying that all
men greatly need pains and care, and you and I above all
men.
_Al._ You are not far wrong about me.
_Soc._ And certainly not about myself.
_Al._ But what can we do?
_Soc._ There must be no hesitation or cowardice, my
friend.
_Al._ That would not become us, Socrates.
[Sidenote: We must take counsel together, (not about equestrian or naval
affairs), but]
_Soc._ No, indeed, and we ought to take counsel together:
for do we not wish to be as good as possible?
_Al._ We do.
_Soc._ In what sort of virtue?
_Al._ Plainly, in the virtue of good men.
_Soc._ Who are good in what?
_Al._ Those, clearly, who are good in the management of
affairs.
_Soc._ What sort of affairs? Equestrian affairs?
_Al._ Certainly not.
[Sidenote: _Goodness and wisdom identified._]
_Soc._ You mean that about them we should have recourse
to horsemen?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ Well; naval affairs?
_Al._ No.
_Soc._ You mean that we should have recourse to sailors
about them?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ Then what affairs? And who do them?
[Sidenote: about the things which occupy the minds of wise men.]
_Al._ The affairs which occupy Athenian gentlemen. 125
_Soc._ And when you speak of gentlemen, do you mean the
wise or the unwise?
_Al._ The wise.
_Soc._ And a man is good in respect of that in which he is
wise?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And evil in respect of that in which he is unwise?
_Al._ Certainly.
_Soc._ The shoemaker, for example, is wise in respect of the
making of shoes?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ Then he is good in that?
_Al._ He is.
_Soc._ But in respect of the making of garments he is unwise?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ Then in that he is bad?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ Then upon this view of the matter the same man is
good and also bad?
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ But would you say that the good are the same as the
bad?
_Al._ Certainly not.
_Soc._ Then whom do you call the good?
[Sidenote: And the wise are those who take counsel for the better order
and]
_Al._ I mean by the good those who are able to rule in the
city.
_Soc._ Not, surely, over horses?
_Al._ Certainly not.
_Soc._ But over men?
[Sidenote: improvement of the city.]
[Sidenote: _The analogy of other employments._]
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ When they are sick?
_Al._ No.
_Soc._ Or on a voyage?
_Al._ No.
_Soc._ Or reaping the harvest?
_Al._ No.
_Soc._ When they are doing something or nothing?
_Al._ When they are doing something, I should say.
_Soc._ I wish that you would explain to me what this something
is.
_Al._ When they are having dealings with one another, and
using one another’s services, as we citizens do in our daily
life.
[Sidenote: Illustrations.]
_Soc._ Those of whom you speak are ruling over men who
are using the services of other men?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ Are they ruling over the signal-men who give the
time to the rowers?
_Al._ No; they are not.
_Soc._ That would be the office of the pilot?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ But, perhaps you mean that they rule over flute-players
who lead the singers and use the services of the
dancers?
_Al._ Certainly not.
_Soc._ That would be the business of the teacher of the
chorus?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ Then what is the meaning of being able to rule over
men who use other men?
_Al._ I mean that they rule over men who have common
rights of citizenship, and dealings with one another.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ The art of the pilot.
_Soc._ And, if I may recur to another old instance, what art
enables them to rule over their fellow-singers?
[Sidenote: _How is a state improved?_]
_Al._ The art of the teacher of the chorus, which you were
just now mentioning.
_Soc._ And what do you call the art of fellow-citizens?
_Al._ I should say, good counsel, Socrates.
_Soc._ And is the art of the pilot evil counsel?
_Al._ No.
_Soc._ But good counsel?
_Al._ Yes, that is what I should say,—good counsel, of which 126
the aim is the preservation of the voyagers.
_Soc._ True. And what is the aim of that other good counsel
of which you speak?
_Al._ The aim is the better order and preservation of the city.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ True.
[Sidenote: And this improvement is given by friendship and agreement,
such as exists between the members of a family, however they may differ
in their qualities and accomplishments.]
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ I should say, Socrates:—the presence of friendship and
the absence of hatred and division.
_Soc._ And do you mean by friendship agreement or disagreement?
_Al._ Agreement.
_Soc._ What art makes cities agree about numbers?
_Al._ Arithmetic.
_Soc._ And private individuals?
_Al._ The same.
_Soc._ And what art makes each individual agree with
himself?
[Sidenote: _The art of measure._]
_Al._ The same.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ Individuals are agreed with one another about this;
and states, equally?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And the same holds of the balance?
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ I should suppose so.
_Soc._ But what is the nature of the agreement?—answer,
and faint not.
_Al._ 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.
_Soc._ But can a man, Alcibiades, agree with a woman about
the spinning of wool, which she understands and he does not?
_Al._ No, truly.
_Soc._ Nor has he any need, for spinning is a female
accomplishment.
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And would a woman agree with a man about the 127
science of arms, which she has never learned?
_Al._ Certainly not.
_Soc._ I suppose that the use of arms would be regarded by
you as a male accomplishment?
_Al._ It would.
_Soc._ Then, upon your view, women and men have two sorts
of knowledge?
_Al._ Certainly.
_Soc._ Then in their knowledge there is no agreement of
women and men?
_Al._ There is not.
[Sidenote: _Apparent antagonism of friendship and justice._]
_Soc._ Nor can there be friendship, if friendship is agreement?
_Al._ Plainly not.
_Soc._ Then women are not loved by men when they do their
own work?
_Al._ I suppose not.
_Soc._ Nor men by women when they do their own work?
_Al._ No.
[Sidenote: If everybody is doing his own business, how can this promote
friendship? And yet when individuals are doing each his own work, they
are doing what is just.]
_Soc._ Nor are states well administered, when individuals do
their own work?
_Al._ I should rather think, Socrates, that the reverse is the
truth[59].
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ But I should say that there is friendship among them,
for this very reason, that the two parties respectively do their
own work.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ Impossible.
_Soc._ And when individuals are doing their own work, are
they doing what is just or unjust?
_Al._ What is just, certainly.
_Soc._ And when individuals do what is just in the state, is
there no friendship among them?
_Al._ I suppose that there must be, Socrates.
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ But, indeed, Socrates, I do not know what I am saying;
and I have long been, unconsciously to myself, in a most
disgraceful state.
_Soc._ 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.
[Sidenote: _Alcibiades is puzzled._]
_Al._ And what should he do, Socrates, who would make the
discovery?
[Sidenote: The way to clear up difficulties is to answer questions.
Alcibiades is willing to have recourse to this method of improvement.]
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ If I can be improved by answering, I will answer.
_Soc._ And first of all, that we may not peradventure be 128
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?
_Al._ I should think so.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ I do not understand.
_Soc._ Let me take the hand as an illustration; does not a
ring belong to the finger, and to the finger only?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And the shoe in like manner to the foot?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And when we take care of our shoes, do we not take
care of our feet?
_Al._ I do not comprehend, Socrates.
_Soc._ But you would admit, Alcibiades, that to take proper
care of a thing is a correct expression?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And taking proper care means improving?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And what is the art which improves our shoes?
_Al._ Shoemaking.
_Soc._ Then by shoemaking we take care of our shoes?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And do we by shoemaking take care of our feet, or by
some other art which improves the feet?
_Al._ By some other art.
[Sidenote: _He is learning by examples._]
_Soc._ And the same art improves the feet which improves
the rest of the body?
_Al._ Very true.
_Soc._ Which is gymnastic?
_Al._ Certainly.
_Soc._ Then by gymnastic we take care of our feet, and by
shoemaking of that which belongs to our feet?
_Al._ Very true.
_Soc._ And by gymnastic we take care of our hands, and by
the art of graving rings of that which belongs to our hands?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ Clearly.
[Sidenote: It has been shown by examples that a man does not take care of
himself, when he only takes care of what belongs to him.]
_Soc._ Then the art which takes care of each thing is different
from that which takes care of the belongings of each
thing?
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ Then in taking care of what belongs to you, you do
not take care of yourself?
_Al._ Certainly not.
_Soc._ For the art which takes care of our belongings appears
not to be the same as that which takes care of ourselves?
_Al._ Clearly not.
_Soc._ And now let me ask you what is the art with which we
take care of ourselves?
_Al._ I cannot say.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ But should we ever have known what art makes a shoe
better, if we did not know a shoe?
_Al._ Impossible.
_Soc._ Nor should we know what art makes a ring better, if
we did not know a ring?
_Al._ That is true.
[Sidenote: A man must know himself before he can improve himself or know
what belongs to him.]
_Soc._ And can we ever know what art makes a man better, 129
if we do not know what we are ourselves?
[Sidenote: _The knowledge of self._]
_Al._ Impossible.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ At times I fancy, Socrates, that anybody can know
himself; at other times the task appears to be very difficult.
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ That is true.
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ You say truly.
_Soc._ Come, now, I beseech you, tell me with whom you
are conversing?—with whom but with me?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ As I am, with you?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ That is to say, I, Socrates, am talking?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And Alcibiades is my hearer?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And I in talking use words?
_Al._ Certainly.
_Soc._ And talking and using words have, I suppose, the
same meaning?
_Al._ To be sure.
_Soc._ And the user is not the same as the thing which he
uses?
_Al._ What do you mean?
_Soc._ I will explain; the shoemaker, for example, uses a
square tool, and a circular tool, and other tools for cutting?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ But the tool is not the same as the cutter and user of
the tool?
_Al._ Of course not.
[Sidenote: _More analogies and examples._]
_Soc._ And in the same way the instrument of the harper is
to be distinguished from the harper himself?
_Al._ It is.
_Soc._ Now the question which I asked was whether you
conceive the user to be always different from that which he
uses?
_Al._ I do.
_Soc._ Then what shall we say of the shoemaker? Does he
cut with his tools only or with his hands?
_Al._ With his hands as well.
_Soc._ He uses his hands too?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And does he use his eyes in cutting leather?
_Al._ He does.
[Sidenote: He is distinct from what he uses; and therefore distinct from
his own body.]
_Soc._ And we admit that the user is not the same with the
things which he uses?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ Then the shoemaker and the harper are to be distinguished
from the hands and feet which they use?
_Al._ Clearly.
_Soc._ And does not a man use the whole body?
_Al._ Certainly.
_Soc._ And that which uses is different from that which is
used?
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ Then a man is not the same as his own body?
_Al._ That is the inference.
_Soc._ What is he, then?
_Al._ I cannot say.
_Soc._ Nay, you can say that he is the user of the body.
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And the user of the body is the soul? 130
_Al._ Yes, the soul.
_Soc._ And the soul rules?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ Let me make an assertion which will, I think, be universally
admitted.
_Al._ What is it?
[Sidenote: But he must be one of three things:—Soul, body, or the union of
the two. What is the ruling principle in him? Clearly the soul.]
_Soc._ That man is one of three things.
_Al._ What are they?
[Sidenote: _The true self or being of a man._]
_Soc._ Soul, body, or both together forming a whole.
_Al._ Certainly.
_Soc._ But did we not say that the actual ruling principle of
the body is man?
_Al._ Yes, we did.
_Soc._ And does the body rule over itself?
_Al._ Certainly not.
_Soc._ It is subject, as we were saying?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ Then that is not the principle which we are seeking?
_Al._ It would seem not.
_Soc._ But may we say that the union of the two rules over
the body, and consequently that this is man?
_Al._ Very likely.
_Soc._ The most unlikely of all things; for if one of the
members is subject, the two united cannot possibly rule.
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ But since neither the body, nor the union of the two,
is man, either man has no real existence, or the soul is man?
_Al._ Just so.
_Soc._ Is anything more required to prove that the soul is
man?
_Al._ Certainly not; the proof is, I think, quite sufficient.
[Sidenote: There remains a question of absolute existence, which has not
been considered by us, or rather is being considered by us when we speak
of the soul.]
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ What was that?
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ There is nothing.
[Sidenote: You and I are talking soul to soul.]
_Soc._ Then we may truly conceive that you and I are conversing
with one another, soul to soul?
_Al._ Very true.
[Sidenote: _The man and his belongings._]
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ Then he who bids a man know himself, would have
him know his soul?
_Al._ That appears to be true.
[Sidenote: But if the soul is the man, he who knows only the arts which
concern man does not know himself.]
_Soc._ He whose knowledge only extends to the body, 131
knows the things of a man, and not the man himself?
_Al._ That is true.
_Soc._ Then neither the physician regarded as a physician,
nor the trainer regarded as a trainer, knows himself?
_Al._ He does not.
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ That is true.
_Soc._ Then if temperance is the knowledge of self, in respect
of his art none of them is temperate?
_Al._ I agree.
_Soc._ And this is the reason why their arts are accounted
vulgar, and are not such as a good man would practise?
_Al._ Quite true.
_Soc._ Again, he who cherishes his body cherishes not himself,
but what belongs to him?
_Al._ That is true.
_Soc._ But he who cherishes his money, cherishes neither himself
nor his belongings, but is in a stage yet further removed
from himself?
_Al._ I agree.
_Soc._ Then the money-maker has really ceased to be occupied
with his own concerns?
_Al._ True.
[Sidenote: The lover of the soul is the true lover.]
_Soc._ And if any one has fallen in love with the person of
Alcibiades, he loves not Alcibiades, but the belongings of
Alcibiades?
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ But he who loves your soul is the true lover?
[Sidenote: _Socrates, the only true lover of Alcibiades._]
_Al._ That is the necessary inference.
_Soc._ The lover of the body goes away when the flower of
youth fades?
_Al._ True.
[Sidenote: He only remains and goes not away, so long as the soul of his
beloved follows after virtue.]
_Soc._ But he who loves the soul goes not away, as long as
the soul follows after virtue?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And I am the lover who goes not away, but remains
with you, when you are no longer young and the rest are gone?
_Al._ Yes, Socrates; and therein you do well, and I hope
that you will remain.
_Soc._ Then you must try to look your best.
_Al._ I will.
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ That is true.
[Sidenote: And Socrates will never desert Alcibiades so long as he is not
spoiled by the Athenian people.]
_Soc._ 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 132
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 Erechtheus is of a fair countenance, but
you should see him naked; wherefore observe the caution
which I give you.
_Al._ What caution?
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ Good advice, Socrates, but I wish that you would explain
to me in what way I am to take care of myself.
_Soc._ 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.
[Sidenote: _How is a man to take care of himself?_]
_Al._ That is true.
_Soc._ And the next step will be to take care of the soul, and
look to that?
_Al._ Certainly.
_Soc._ Leaving the care of our bodies and of our properties
to others?
_Al._ Very good.
[Sidenote: He who would take care of himself must first of all know
himself.]
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ What have you in your thoughts, Socrates?
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ What do you mean?
[Sidenote: The eye which would see itself must look into the pupil of
another, which is the divinest part of the eye, and will then behold
itself.]
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ Clearly.
_Soc._ And what are the objects in looking at which we see
ourselves?
_Al._ Clearly, Socrates, in looking at mirrors and the like.
_Soc._ Very true; and is there not something of the nature
of a mirror in our own eyes?
_Al._ Certainly.
_Soc._ 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 133
is called the pupil, there is a sort of image of the person
looking?
_Al._ That is quite true.
[Sidenote: _The argument recapitulated with some corrections._]
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ That is evident.
_Soc._ But looking at anything else either in man or in the
world, and not to what resembles this, it will not see itself?
_Al._ Very true.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ True.
[Sidenote: And the soul which would know herself must look especially at
that part of herself in which she resembles the divine.]
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ I agree, Socrates.
_Soc._ And do we know of any part of our souls more divine
than that which has to do with wisdom and knowledge?
_Al._ There is none.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ Clearly.
_Soc._ And self-knowledge we agree to be wisdom?
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ But if we have no self-knowledge and no wisdom, can
we ever know our own good and evil?
_Al._ How can we, Socrates?
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ It would be quite impossible.
[Sidenote: He who knows not himself and his belongings, will not know
others and their belongings, and therefore he will not know the affairs
of states.]
_Soc._ Nor should we know that we were the persons to
whom anything belonged, if we did not know ourselves?
_Al._ How could we?
_Soc._ And if we did not know our own belongings, neither
should we know the belongings of our belongings?
_Al._ Clearly not.
_Soc._ 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.
[Sidenote: _Happiness without virtue impossible._]
_Al._ So much may be supposed.
_Soc._ And he who knows not the things which belong to
himself, will in like manner be ignorant of the things which
belong to others?
_Al._ Very true.
_Soc._ And if he knows not the affairs of others, he will not
know the affairs of states?
_Al._ Certainly not.
_Soc._ Then such a man can never be a statesman?
_Al._ He cannot.
_Soc._ Nor an economist?
_Al._ He cannot.
_Soc._ He will not know what he is doing? 134
_Al._ He will not.
_Soc._ And will not he who is ignorant fall into error?
_Al._ Assuredly.
[Sidenote: And, if he knows not what he is doing, he will be miserable
and will make others miserable.]
_Soc._ And if he falls into error will he not fail both in his
public and private capacity?
_Al._ Yes, indeed.
_Soc._ And failing, will he not be miserable?
_Al._ Very.
_Soc._ And what will become of those for whom he is
acting?
_Al._ They will be miserable also.
_Soc._ Then he who is not wise and good cannot be happy?
_Al._ He cannot.
_Soc._ The bad, then, are miserable?
_Al._ Yes, very.
_Soc._ And if so, not he who has riches, but he who has
wisdom, is delivered from his misery?
_Al._ Clearly.
_Soc._ Cities, then, if they are to be happy, do not want
walls, or triremes, or docks, or numbers, or size, Alcibiades,
without virtue[60]?
[Sidenote: _The divine mirror._]
_Al._ Indeed they do not.
[Sidenote: He must give the citizens wisdom and justice, and he cannot
give what he has not got.]
_Soc._ And you must give the citizens virtue, if you mean to
administer their affairs rightly or nobly?
_Al._ Certainly.
_Soc._ But can a man give that which he has not?
_Al._ Impossible.
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ That is true.
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ Clearly.
[Sidenote: If he acts wisely and justly he will act according to the will
of God.]
_Soc._ You and the state, if you act wisely and justly, will
act according to the will of God?
_Al._ Certainly.
_Soc._ As I was saying before, you will look only at what is
bright and divine, and act with a view to them?
_Al._ Yes.
[Sidenote: In the mirror of the divine he will see his own good and will
act rightly and be happy.]
_Soc._ In that mirror you will see and know yourselves and
your own good?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And so you will act rightly and well?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ In which case, I will be security for your happiness.
_Al._ I accept the security.
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ Very possibly.
_Soc._ 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 135
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?
[Sidenote: _The conversion of Alcibiades._]
_Al._ That is true.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ Yes; I see that they will all perish.
_Soc._ 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?
_Al._ Certainly.
[Sidenote: Not power, but virtue, should be the aim both of individuals
and of states: and he only is a freeman who has virtue.]
_Soc._ Not tyrannical power, then, my good Alcibiades,
should be the aim either of individuals or states, if they
would be happy, but virtue.
_Al._ That is true.
_Soc._ And before they have virtue, to be commanded by a
superior is better for men as well as for children[61]?
_Al._ That is evident.
_Soc._ And that which is better is also nobler?
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ And what is nobler is more becoming?
_Al._ Certainly.
_Soc._ Then to the bad man slavery is more becoming,
because better?
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ Then vice is only suited to a slave?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And virtue to a freeman?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And, O my friend, is not the condition of a slave to
be avoided?
_Al._ Certainly, Socrates.
_Soc._ And are you now conscious of your own state? And
do you know whether you are a freeman or not?
_Al._ I think that I am very conscious indeed of my own
state.
_Soc._ And do you know how to escape out of a state which
I do not even like to name to my beauty?
_Al._ Yes, I do.
_Soc._ How?
_Al._ By your help, Socrates.
[Sidenote: _The power of the state may be too much for us._]
_Soc._ That is not well said, Alcibiades.
_Al._ What ought I to have said?
_Soc._ By the help of God.
_Al._ 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.
_Soc._ 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.
_Al._ Strange, but true; and henceforward I shall begin to
think about justice.
_Soc._ 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.