_PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE._
SOCRATES and ALCIBIADES.
[Sidenote: _Alcibiades II._]
_Soc._ Are you going, Alcibiades, to offer prayer to
Zeus? =Steph.= 138
_Al._ Yes, Socrates, I am.
_Soc._ You seem to be troubled and to cast your eyes on the
ground, as though you were thinking about something.
_Al._ Of what do you suppose that I am thinking?
_Soc._ Of the greatest of all things, as I believe. Tell me,
do you not suppose that the Gods sometimes partly grant
and partly reject the requests which we make in public and
private, and favour some persons and not others?
_Al._ Certainly.
[Sidenote: The danger of a prayer which is ill-advised.]
_Soc._ Do you not imagine, then, that a man ought to be
very careful, lest perchance without knowing it he implore
great evils for himself, deeming that he is asking for good,
especially if the Gods are in the mood to grant whatever he
may request? There is the story of Oedipus, for instance,
who prayed that his children might divide their inheritance
between them by the sword: he did not, as he might have
done, beg that his present evils might be averted, but called
down new ones. And was not his prayer accomplished, and
did not many and terrible evils thence arise, upon which
I need not dilate?
_Al._ Yes, Socrates, but you are speaking of a madman:
surely you do not think that any one in his senses would
venture to make such a prayer?
_Soc._ Madness, then, you consider to be the opposite of
discretion?
_Al._ Of course.
[Sidenote: _Do opposites admit of intermediates?_]
_Soc._ And some men seem to you to be discreet, and others
the contrary?
_Al._ They do.
_Soc._ Well, then, let us discuss who these are. We acknowledge
that some are discreet, some foolish, and that
some are mad?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And again, there are some who are in health?
_Al._ There are.
_Soc._ While others are ailing?
_Al._ Yes. 139
_Soc._ And they are not the same?
_Al._ Certainly not.
_Soc._ Nor are there any who are in neither state?
_Al._ No.
_Soc._ A man must either be sick or be well?
_Al._ That is my opinion.
[Sidenote: Alcibiades first denies and afterwards admits]
_Soc._ Very good: and do you think the same about discretion
and want of discretion?
_Al._ How do you mean?
_Soc._ Do you believe that a man must be either in or out of
his senses; or is there some third or intermediate condition,
in which he is neither one nor the other?
_Al._ Decidedly not.
_Soc._ He must be either sane or insane?
_Al._ So I suppose.
_Soc._ Did you not acknowledge that madness was the
opposite of discretion?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And that there is no third or middle term between
discretion and indiscretion?
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ And there cannot be two opposites to one thing?
_Al._ There cannot.
_Soc._ Then madness and want of sense are the same?
_Al._ That appears to be the case.
[Sidenote: _Some elementary questions of logic._]
_Soc._ We shall be in the right, therefore, Alcibiades, if we
say that all who are senseless are mad. For example, if
among persons of your own age or older than yourself there
are some who are senseless,—as there certainly are,—they are
mad. For tell me, by heaven, do you not think that in the
city the wise are few, while the foolish, whom you call mad,
are many?
_Al._ I do.
[Sidenote: that differences of kind do not exclude differences of degree.]
_Soc._ But how could we live in safety with so many crazy
people? Should we not long since have paid the penalty at
their hands, and have been struck and beaten and endured
every other form of ill-usage which madmen are wont to
inflict? Consider, my dear friend: may it not be quite
otherwise?
_Al._ Why, Socrates, how is that possible? I must have
been mistaken.
_Soc._ So it seems to me. But perhaps we may consider
the matter thus:—
_Al._ How?
_Soc._ I will tell you. We think that some are sick; do we
not?
_Al._ Yes.
[Sidenote: The sick may have many kinds of sickness; so there are
different kinds of want of sense.]
_Soc._ And must every sick person either have the gout, or
be in a fever, or suffer from ophthalmia? Or do you believe
that a man may labour under some other disease, even
although he has none of these complaints? Surely, they are
not the only maladies which exist?
_Al._ Certainly not.
_Soc._ And is every kind of ophthalmia a disease?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And every disease ophthalmia?
_Al._ Surely not. But I scarcely understand what I mean
myself.
_Soc._ Perhaps, if you give me your best attention, ‘two of 140
us’ looking together, we may find what we seek.
_Al._ I am attending, Socrates, to the best of my power.
_Soc._ We are agreed, then, that every form of ophthalmia is
a disease, but not every disease ophthalmia?
_Al._ We are.
_Soc._ And so far we seem to be right. For every one who
suffers from a fever is sick; but the sick, I conceive, do not
all have fever or gout or ophthalmia, although each of these is
a disease, which, according to those whom we call physicians,
may require a different treatment. They are not all alike,
nor do they produce the same result, but each has its own
effect, and yet they are all diseases. May we not take an
illustration from the artizans?
[Sidenote: _Illustrations of genera and species._]
_Al._ Certainly.
_Soc._ There are cobblers and carpenters and sculptors and
others of all sorts and kinds, whom we need not stop to
enumerate. All have their distinct employments and all are
workmen, although they are not all of them cobblers or carpenters
or sculptors.
_Al._ No, indeed.
_Soc._ And in like manner men differ in regard to want of
sense. Those who are most out of their wits we call ‘madmen,’
while we term those who are less far gone ‘stupid’ or
‘idiotic,’ or, if we prefer gentler language, describe them as
‘romantic’ or ‘simple-minded,’ or, again, as ‘innocent’ or
‘inexperienced’ or ‘foolish.’ You may even find other
names, if you seek for them; but by all of them lack of sense
is intended. They only differ as one art appeared to us to
differ from another or one disease from another. Or what is
your opinion?
_Al._ I agree with you.
_Soc._ Then let us return to the point at which we digressed.
We said at first that we should have to consider
who were the wise and who the foolish. For we acknowledged
that there are these two classes? Did we not?
_Al._ To be sure.
_Soc._ And you regard those as sensible who know what
ought to be done or said?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ The senseless are those who do not know this?
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ The latter will say or do what they ought not without
their own knowledge?
_Al._ Exactly.
[Sidenote: Men often, like Oedipus, pray unadvisedly.]
[Sidenote: _The desire for good is sometimes really evil._]
_Soc._ Oedipus, as I was saying, Alcibiades, was a person of 141
this sort. And even now-a-days you will find many who
[have offered inauspicious prayers], although, unlike him,
they were not in anger nor thought that they were asking
evil. He neither sought, nor supposed that he sought for
good, but others have had quite the contrary notion. I believe
that if the God whom you are about to consult should
appear to you, and, in anticipation of your request, enquired
whether you would be contented to become tyrant of Athens,
and if this seemed in your eyes a small and mean thing,
should add to it the dominion of all Hellas; and seeing that
even then you would not be satisfied unless you were ruler
of the whole of Europe, should promise, not only that, but, if
you so desired, should proclaim to all mankind in one and
the same day that Alcibiades, son of Cleinias, was tyrant:—in
such a case, I imagine, you would depart full of joy, as one
who had obtained the greatest of goods.
_Al._ And not only I, Socrates, but any one else who should
meet with such luck.
_Soc._ Yet you would not accept the dominion and lordship
of all the Hellenes and all the barbarians in exchange for
your life?
_Al._ Certainly not: for then what use could I make of
them?
_Soc._ And would you accept them if you were likely to use
them to a bad and mischievous end?
_Al._ I would not.
[Sidenote: Archelaus and his beloved.]
[Sidenote: Men never refuse the goods of fortune, however great the evils
which may attend them.]
[Sidenote: _The blindness of humanity._]
_Soc._ You see that it is not safe for a man either rashly to
accept whatever is offered him, or himself to request a thing,
if he is likely to suffer thereby or immediately to lose his life.
And yet we could tell of many who, having long desired and
diligently laboured to obtain a tyranny, thinking that thus
they would procure an advantage, have nevertheless fallen
victims to designing enemies. You must have heard of
what happened only the other day, how Archelaus of
Macedonia was slain by his beloved[65], whose love for the
tyranny was not less than that of Archelaus for him. The
tyrannicide expected by his crime to become tyrant and
afterwards to have a happy life; but when he had held the
tyranny three or four days, he was in his turn conspired
against and slain. Or look at certain of our own citizens,—and
of their actions we have been not hearers, but eyewitnesses,—who
have desired to obtain military command: of
those who have gained their object, some are even to this day 142
exiles from the city, while others have lost their lives. And
even they who seem to have fared best, have not only gone
through many perils and terrors during their office, but after
their return home they have been beset by informers worse
than they once were by their foes, insomuch that several of
them have wished that they had remained in a private station
rather than have had the glories of command. If, indeed, such
perils and terrors were of profit to the commonwealth, there
would be reason in undergoing them; but the very contrary is
the case. Again, you will find persons who have prayed for
offspring, and when their prayers were heard, have fallen
into the greatest pains and sufferings. For some have
begotten children who were utterly bad, and have therefore
passed all their days in misery, while the parents of good
children have undergone the misfortune of losing them, and
have been so little happier than the others that they would
have preferred never to have had children rather than to
have had them and lost them. And yet, although these and
the like examples are manifest and known of all, it is rare to
find any one who has refused what has been offered him, or,
if he were likely to gain aught by prayer, has refrained from
making his petition. The mass of mankind would not decline
to accept a tyranny, or the command of an army, or any
of the numerous things which cause more harm than good:
but rather, if they had them not, would have prayed to obtain
them. And often in a short space of time they change their
tone, and wish their old prayers unsaid. Wherefore also I
suspect that men are entirely wrong when they blame the
gods as the authors of the ills which befall them[66]: ‘their own
presumption,’ or folly (whichever is the right word)—
‘Has brought these unmeasured woes upon them[67].’
He must have been a wise poet, Alcibiades, who, seeing as I
believe, his friends foolishly praying for and doing things
which would not really profit them, offered up a common
prayer in behalf of them all:—
‘King Zeus, grant us good whether prayed for or unsought by us; 143
But that which we ask amiss, do thou avert[68].’
[Sidenote: _Some ignorance is better than some knowledge._]
In my opinion, I say, the poet spoke both well and prudently;
but if you have anything to say in answer to him,
speak out.
_Al._ It is difficult, Socrates, to oppose what has been well
said. And I perceive how many are the ills of which ignorance
is the cause, since, as would appear, through
ignorance we not only do, but what is worse, pray for the
greatest evils. No man would imagine that he would do so;
he would rather suppose that he was quite capable of praying
for what was best: to call down evil seems more like a curse
than a prayer.
_Soc._ But perhaps, my good friend, some one who is wiser
than either you or I will say that we have no right to blame
ignorance thus rashly, unless we can add what ignorance we
mean and of what, and also to whom and how it is respectively
a good or an evil?
_Al._ How do you mean? Can ignorance possibly be better
than knowledge for any person in any conceivable case?
_Soc._ So I believe:—you do not think so?
_Al._ Certainly not.
[Sidenote: Orestes and Alcmaeon.]
_Soc._ And yet surely I may not suppose that you would
ever wish to act towards your mother as they say that
Orestes and Alcmaeon and others have done towards their
parent.
_Al._ Good words, Socrates, prithee.
[Sidenote: Ignorance of the best is bad: ignorance of the bad good.]
_Soc._ You ought not to bid him use auspicious words, who
says that you would not be willing to commit so horrible a
deed, but rather him who affirms the contrary, if the act
appear to you unfit even to be mentioned. Or do you think
that Orestes, had he been in his senses and knew what was
best for him to do, would ever have dared to venture on such
a crime?
_Al._ Certainly not.
_Soc._ Nor would any one else, I fancy?
_Al._ No.
_Soc._ That ignorance is bad then, it would appear, which is
of the best and does not know what is best?
_Al._ So I think, at least.
_Soc._ And both to the person who is ignorant and everybody
else?
[Sidenote: _Cases in which ignorance may be an advantage._]
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ Let us take another case. Suppose that you were
suddenly to get into your head that it would be a good thing 144
to kill Pericles, your kinsman and guardian, and were to
seize a sword and, going to the doors of his house, were to
enquire if he were at home, meaning to slay only him and no
one else:—the servants reply, ‘Yes’: (Mind, I do not mean
that you would really do such a thing; but there is nothing,
you think, to prevent a man who is ignorant of the best,
having occasionally the whim that what is worst is best?
_Al._ No.)
[Sidenote: A man might be prevented from committing murder by ignorance
of the person whom he was going to murder.]
_Soc._—If, then, you went indoors, and seeing him, did not
know him, but thought that he was some one else, would you
venture to slay him?
_Al._ Most decidedly not [69][it seems to me][69].
_Soc._ For you designed to kill, not the first who offered,
but Pericles himself?
_Al._ Certainly.
_Soc._ And if you made many attempts, and each time failed
to recognize Pericles, you would never attack him?
_Al._ Never.
_Soc._ Well, but if Orestes in like manner had not known
his mother, do you think that he would ever have laid hands
upon her?
_Al._ No.
_Soc._ He did not intend to slay the first woman he came
across, nor any one else’s mother, but only his own?
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ Ignorance, then, is better for those who are in such
a frame of mind, and have such ideas?
_Al._ Obviously.
_Soc._ You acknowledge that for some persons in certain
cases the ignorance of some things is a good and not an evil,
as you formerly supposed?
_Al._ I do.
_Soc._ [70]And there is still another case which will also
perhaps appear strange to you, if you will consider it?[70]
_Al._ What is that, Socrates?
[Sidenote: _The knowledge of the best._]
[Sidenote: All knowledge if unaccompanied by a knowledge of the best is
hurtful.]
_Soc._ It may be, in short, that the possession of all the
sciences, if unaccompanied by the knowledge of the best, will
more often than not injure the possessor. Consider the
matter thus:—Must we not, when we intend either to do or
say anything, suppose that we know or ought to know that
which we propose so confidently to do or say?
_Al._ Yes, in my opinion.
_Soc._ We may take the orators for an example, who from
time to time advise us about war and peace, or the building 145
of walls and the construction of harbours, whether they
understand the business in hand, or only think that they do.
Whatever the city, in a word, does to another city, or in the
management of her own affairs, all happens by the counsel
of the orators.
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ But now see what follows, if I can [71][make it clear to
you][71]. You would distinguish the wise from the foolish?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ The many are foolish, the few wise?
_Al._ Certainly.
_Soc._ And you use both the terms, ‘wise’ and ‘foolish,’ in
reference to something?
_Al._ I do.
[Sidenote: Examples.]
_Soc._ Would you call a person wise who can give advice,
but does not know whether or when it is better to carry out
the advice?
_Al._ Decidedly not.
_Soc._ Nor again, I suppose, a person who knows the art of
war, but does not know whether it is better to go to war or
for how long?
_Al._ No.
_Soc._ Nor, once more, a person who knows how to kill
another or to take away his property or to drive him from
his native land, but not when it is better to do so or for
whom it is better?
_Al._ Certainly not.
_Soc._ But he who understands anything of the kind and
has at the same time the knowledge of the best course of
action:—and the best and the useful are surely the same?—
[Sidenote: _Cleverness in the arts not wisdom._]
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._—Such an one, I say, we should call wise and a useful
adviser both of himself and of the city. What do you think?
_Al._ I agree.
_Soc._ And if any one knows how to ride or to shoot with
the bow or to box or to wrestle, or to engage in any other
sort of contest or to do anything whatever which is in the
nature of an art,—what do you call him who knows what is
best according to that art? Do you not speak of one who
knows what is best in riding as a good rider?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And in a similar way you speak of a good boxer or
a good flute-player or a good performer in any other art?
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ But is it necessary that the man who is clever in any
of these arts should be wise also in general? Or is there
a difference between the clever artist and the wise man?
_Al._ All the difference in the world.
[Sidenote: A state would be bad which was composed only of skilful
artists and clever politicians, but where no one had the knowledge of the
best.]
_Soc._ And what sort of a state do you think that would be
which was composed of good archers and flute-players and
athletes and masters in other arts, and besides them of
those others about whom we spoke, who knew how to go to
war and how to kill, as well as of orators puffed up with
political pride but in which not one of them all had this
knowledge of the best, and there was no one who could tell
when it was better to apply any of these arts or in regard to 146
whom?
_Al._ I should call such a state bad, Socrates.
_Soc._ You certainly would when you saw each of them
rivalling the other and esteeming that of the greatest importance
in the state,
‘Wherein he himself most excelled[72].’
—I mean that which was best in any art, while he was
entirely ignorant of what was best for himself and for the
state, because, as I think, he trusts to opinion which is
devoid of intelligence. In such a case should we not be
right if we said that the state would be full of anarchy and
lawlessness?
[Sidenote: _True knowledge a knowledge of the best._]
_Al._ Decidedly.
_Soc._ But ought we not then, think you, either to fancy
that we know or really to know, what we confidently propose
to do or say?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ And if a person does that which he knows or supposes
that he knows, and the result is beneficial, he will act
advantageously both for himself and for the state?
_Al._ True.
_Soc._ And if he do the contrary, both he and the state will
suffer?
_Al._ Yes.
_Soc._ Well, and are you of the same mind as before?
_Al._ I am.
_Soc._ But were you not saying that you would call the
many unwise and the few wise?
_Al._ I was.
_Soc._ And have we not come back to our old assertion that
the many fail to obtain the best because they trust to opinion
which is devoid of intelligence?
_Al._ That is the case.
_Soc._ It is good, then, for the many, if they particularly
desire to do that which they know or suppose that they
know, neither to know nor to suppose that they know, in
cases where if they carry out their ideas in action they will
be losers rather than gainers?
_Al._ What you say is very true.
_Soc._ Do you not see that I was really speaking the truth
when I affirmed that the possession of any other kind of
knowledge was more likely to injure than to benefit the
possessor, unless he had also the knowledge of the best?
_Al._ I do now, if I did not before, Socrates.
[Sidenote: The soul requires this knowledge of the best before she sets
sail on the voyage of life.]
[Sidenote: _The meaning of the poets._]
_Soc._ The state or the soul, therefore, which wishes to have
a right existence must hold firmly to this knowledge, just as
the sick man clings to the physician, or the passenger
depends for safety on the pilot. And if the soul does not set 147
sail until she have obtained this she will be all the safer in
the voyage through life. But when she rushes in pursuit of
wealth or bodily strength or anything else, not having the
knowledge of the best, so much the more is she likely to
meet with misfortune. And he who has the love of learning[73],
and is skilful in many arts, and does not possess the knowledge
of the best, but is under some other guidance, will
make, as he deserves, a sorry voyage:—he will, I believe,
hurry through the brief space of human life, pilotless in
mid-ocean, and the words will apply to him in which the poet
blamed his enemy:—
‘... Full many a thing he knew;
But knew them all badly[74].’
_Al._ How in the world, Socrates, do the words of the poet
apply to him? They seem to me to have no bearing on the
point whatever.
[Sidenote: The poets spoke in riddles a hidden truth.]
_Soc._ Quite the contrary, my sweet friend: only the poet is
talking in riddles after the fashion of his tribe. For all
poetry has by nature an enigmatical character, and it is by
no means everybody who can interpret it. And if, moreover,
the spirit of poetry happen to seize on a man who is of
a begrudging temper and does not care to manifest his
wisdom but keeps it to himself as far as he can, it does
indeed require an almost superhuman wisdom to discover
what the poet would be at. You surely do not suppose that
Homer, the wisest and most divine of poets, was unaware of
the impossibility of knowing a thing badly: for it was no less
a person than he who said of Margites that ‘he knew many
things, but knew them all badly.’ The solution of the riddle
is this, I imagine:—By ‘badly’ Homer meant ‘bad’ and
‘knew’ stands for ‘to know.’ Put the words together;—the
metre will suffer, but the poet’s meaning is clear;—‘Margites
knew all these things, but it was bad for him to know them.’
And, obviously, if it was bad for him to know so many
things, he must have been a good-for-nothing, unless the
argument has played us false.
_Al._ But I do not think that it has, Socrates: at least, if
the argument is fallacious, it would be difficult for me to find
another which I could trust.
_Soc._ And you are right in thinking so.
_Al._ Well, that is my opinion.
[Sidenote: _The prayer of the Lacedaemonians._]
[Sidenote: Alcibiades is too unstable to be able to trust his own
prayers.]
_Soc._ But tell me, by Heaven:—you must see now the
nature and greatness of the difficulty in which you, like
others, have your part. For you change about in all
directions, and never come to rest anywhere: what you once
most strongly inclined to suppose, you put aside again and
quite alter your mind. If the God to whose shrine you are 148
going should appear at this moment, and ask before you
made your prayer, ‘Whether you would desire to have one
of the things which we mentioned at first, or whether he
should leave you to make your own request:’—what in either
case, think you, would be the best way to take advantage of
the opportunity?
_Al._ Indeed, Socrates, I could not answer you without
consideration. It seems to me to be a wild thing[75] to make
such a request; a man must be very careful lest he pray for
evil under the idea that he is asking for good, when shortly
after he may have to recall his prayer, and, as you were
saying, demand the opposite of what he at first requested.
_Soc._ And was not the poet whose words I originally
quoted wiser than we are, when he bade us [pray God] to
defend us from evil even though we asked for it?
_Al._ I believe that you are right.
_Soc._ The Lacedaemonians, too, whether from admiration
of the poet or because they have discovered the idea for
themselves, are wont to offer the prayer alike in public and
private, that the Gods will give unto them the beautiful as
well as the good:—no one is likely to hear them make any
further petition. And yet up to the present time they have
not been less fortunate than other men; or if they have
sometimes met with misfortune, the fault has not been due to
their prayer. For surely, as I conceive, the Gods have
power either to grant our requests, or to send us the contrary
of what we ask.
[Sidenote: The silent prayer of the Lacedaemonians better than all the
offerings of the other Hellenes.]
And now I will relate to you a story which I have heard
from certain of our elders. It chanced that when the
Athenians and Lacedaemonians were at war, our city lost
every battle by land and sea and never gained a victory.
[Sidenote: _The word of the Oracle_]
The Athenians being annoyed and perplexed how to find
a remedy for their troubles, decided to send and enquire at
the shrine of Ammon. Their envoys were also to ask,
‘Why the Gods always granted the victory to the Lacedaemonians?’
‘We,’ (they were to say,) ‘offer them more
and finer sacrifices than any other Hellenic state, and adorn
their temples with gifts, as nobody else does; moreover, we
make the most solemn and costly processions to them every
year, and spend more money in their service than all the
rest of the Hellenes put together. But the Lacedaemonians 149
take no thought of such matters, and pay so little respect to
the Gods that they have a habit of sacrificing blemished
animals to them, and in various ways are less zealous than
we are, although their wealth is quite equal to ours.’ When
they had thus spoken, and had made their request to know
what remedy they could find against the evils which troubled
them, the prophet made no direct answer,—clearly because
he was not allowed by the God to do so;—but he summoned
them to him and said: ‘Thus saith Ammon to the Athenians:
“The silent worship of the Lacedaemonians pleaseth me
better than all the offerings of the other Hellenes.”’ Such
were the words of the God, and nothing more. He seems
to have meant by ‘silent worship’ the prayer of the
Lacedaemonians, which is indeed widely different from the
usual requests of the Hellenes. For they either bring to
the altar bulls with gilded horns or make offerings to the
Gods, and beg at random for what they need, good or bad.
When, therefore, the Gods hear them using words of ill
omen they reject these costly processions and sacrifices of
theirs. And we ought, I think, to be very careful and consider
well what we should say and what leave unsaid.
Homer, too, will furnish us with similar stories. For he
tells us how the Trojans in making their encampment,
‘Offered up whole hecatombs to the immortals,’
and how the ‘sweet savour’ was borne ‘to the heavens by
the winds;
‘But the blessed Gods were averse and received it not.
For exceedingly did they hate the holy Ilium,
Both Priam and the people of the spear-skilled king.’
So that it was in vain for them to sacrifice and offer gifts,
seeing that they were hateful to the Gods, who are not, like
vile usurers, to be gained over by bribes. And it is foolish
for us to boast that we are superior to the Lacedaemonians
by reason of our much worship. The idea is inconceivable
that the Gods have regard, not to the justice and purity of 150
our souls, but to costly processions and sacrifices, which men
may celebrate year after year, although they have committed
innumerable crimes against the Gods or against their fellow-men
or the state. For the Gods, as Ammon and his prophet
declare, are no receivers of gifts, and they scorn such unworthy
service. Wherefore also it would seem that wisdom
and justice are especially honoured both by the Gods and by
men of sense; and they are the wisest and most just who
know how to speak and act towards Gods and men. But
I should like to hear what your opinion is about these
matters.
[Sidenote: _about the Athenians and the Lacedaemonians._]
_Al._ I agree, Socrates, with you and with the God, whom,
indeed, it would be unbecoming for me to oppose.
_Soc._ Do you not remember saying that you were in great
perplexity, lest perchance you should ask for evil, supposing
that you were asking for good?
_Al._ I do.
[Sidenote: Alcibiades cannot tell whether he is asking for good or evil.
‘Therefore let his words be few.’]
_Soc._ You see, then, that there is a risk in your approaching
the God in prayer, lest haply he should refuse
your sacrifice when he hears the blasphemy which you utter,
and make you partake of other evils as well. The wisest
plan, therefore, seems to me that you should keep silence;
for your ‘highmindedness’—to use the mildest term which
men apply to folly—will most likely prevent you from using
the prayer of the Lacedaemonians. You had better wait
until we find out how we should behave towards the Gods
and towards men.
_Al._ And how long must I wait, Socrates, and who will be
my teacher? I should be very glad to see the man.
_Soc._ It is he who takes an especial interest in you. But
first of all, I think, the darkness must be taken away in
which your soul is now enveloped, just as Athene in Homer
removes the mist from the eyes of Diomede that
‘He may distinguish between God and mortal man.’
Afterwards the means may be given to you whereby you
may distinguish between good and evil. At present, I fear,
this is beyond your power.
[Sidenote: _Alcibiades and his teacher._]
_Al._ Only let my instructor take away the impediment,
whether it pleases him to call it mist or anything else! I
care not who he is; but I am resolved to disobey none of
his commands, if I am likely to be the better for them.
_Soc._ And surely he has a wondrous care for you. 151
_Al._ It seems to be altogether advisable to put off the
sacrifice until he is found.
_Soc._ You are right: that will be safer than running such
a tremendous risk.
_Al._ But how shall we manage, Socrates?—At any rate
I will set this crown of mine upon your head, as you have
given me such excellent advice, and to the Gods we will
offer crowns and perform the other customary rites when
I see that day approaching: nor will it be long hence, if
they so will.
_Soc._ I accept your gift, and shall be ready and willing to
receive whatever else you may proffer. Euripides makes
Creon say in the play, when he beholds Tiresias with his
crown and hears that he has gained it by his skill as the
first-fruits of the spoil:—
‘An auspicious omen I deem thy victor’s wreath:
For well thou knowest that wave and storm oppress us[76].’
And so I count your gift to be a token of good-fortune; for
I am in no less stress than Creon, and would fain carry off
the victory over your lovers.