Volume 2 — APPENDIX I. (continued 2)

Al. Did I, then?

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.

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.

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.

who is the real speaker?

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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?

The conceit of knowledge

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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?

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.

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?

The Spartan kings.

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?

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.

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.

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!

The education of the Persian princes.

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.

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.

The wealth of the Spartans.

When Alcibiades was born nobody knew or cared, and his education was handed over to a worn-out slave of his guardian’s.

The great inferiority of Alcibiades.

The country called the ‘queen’s girdle,’ the ‘queen’s veil,’ and the like.

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.

The necessity of education.

Al. I entirely believe you; but what are the sort of pains which are required, Socrates,—can you tell me?

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.

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.

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?

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?

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?

improvement of the city.

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.

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?

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

Alcibiades is puzzled.

Al. And what should he do, Socrates, who would make the discovery?

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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?

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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]?

The divine mirror.

Al. Indeed they do not.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

FOOTNOTES

MENEXENUS.

INTRODUCTION.

Menexenus.

Introduction.

The Menexenus has more the character of a rhetorical exercise than any other of the Platonic works. The writer seems to have wished to emulate Thucydides, and the far slighter work of Lysias. In his rivalry with the latter, to whom in the Phaedrus Plato shows a strong antipathy, he is entirely successful, but he is not equal to Thucydides. The Menexenus, though not without real Hellenic interest, falls very far short of the rugged grandeur and political insight of the great historian. The fiction of the speech having been invented by Aspasia is well sustained, and is in the manner of Plato, notwithstanding the anachronism which puts into her mouth an allusion to the peace of Antalcidas, an event occurring forty years after the date of the supposed oration. But Plato, like Shakespeare, is careless of such anachronisms, which are not supposed to strike the mind of the reader. The effect produced by these grandiloquent orations on Socrates, who does not recover after having heard one of them for three days and more, is truly Platonic.

Such discourses, if we may form a judgment from the three which are extant (for the so-called Funeral Oration of Demosthenes is a bad and spurious imitation of Thucydides and Lysias), conformed to a regular type. They began with Gods and ancestors, and the legendary history of Athens, to which succeeded an almost equally fictitious account of later times. The Persian war usually formed the centre of the narrative; in the age of Isocrates and Demosthenes the Athenians were still living on the glories of Marathon and Salamis. The Menexenus veils in panegyric the weak places of Athenian history. The war of Athens and Boeotia is a war of liberation; the Athenians gave back the Spartans taken at Sphacteria out of kindness—indeed, the only fault of the city was too great kindness to their enemies, who were more honoured than the friends of others (cp. Thucyd. ii. 41, which seems to contain the germ of the idea); we democrats are the aristocracy of virtue, and the like. These are the platitudes and falsehoods in which history is disguised. The taking of Athens is hardly mentioned.

The authenticity of the Dialogue.

The author of the Menexenus, whether Plato or not, is evidently intending to ridicule the practice, and at the same time to show that he can beat the rhetoricians in their own line, as in the Phaedrus he may be supposed to offer an example of what Lysias might have said, and of how much better he might have written in his own style. The orators had recourse to their favourite loci communes, one of which, as we find in Lysias, was the shortness of the time allowed them for preparation. But Socrates points out that they had them always ready for delivery, and that there was no difficulty in improvising any number of such orations. To praise the Athenians among the Athenians was easy,—to praise them among the Lacedaemonians would have been a much more difficult task. Socrates himself has turned rhetorician, having learned of a woman, Aspasia, the mistress of Pericles; and any one whose teachers had been far inferior to his own—say, one who had learned from Antiphon the Rhamnusian—would be quite equal to the task of praising men to themselves. When we remember that Antiphon is described by Thucydides as the best pleader of his day, the satire on him and on the whole tribe of rhetoricians is transparent.

The ironical assumption of Socrates, that he must be a good orator because he had learnt of Aspasia, is not coarse, as Schleiermacher supposes, but is rather to be regarded as fanciful. Nor can we say that the offer of Socrates to dance naked out of love for Menexenus, is any more un-Platonic than the threat of physical force which Phaedrus uses towards Socrates (286 C). Nor is there any real vulgarity in the fear which Socrates expresses that he will get a beating from his mistress, Aspasia: this is the natural exaggeration of what might be expected from an imperious woman. Socrates is not to be taken seriously in all that he says, and Plato, both in the Symposium and elsewhere, is not slow to admit a sort of Aristophanic humour. How a great original genius like Plato might or might not have written, what was his conception of humour, or what limits he would have prescribed to himself, if any, in drawing the picture of the Silenus Socrates, are problems which no critical instinct can determine.

The authenticity of the Dialogue.

On the other hand, the dialogue has several Platonic traits, whether original or imitated may be uncertain. Socrates, when he departs from his character of a ‘know nothing’ and delivers a speech, generally pretends that what he is speaking is not his own composition. Thus in the Cratylus he is run away with (410 E); in the Phaedrus he has heard somebody say something (235 C)—is inspired by the genius loci (238 D); in the Symposium he derives his wisdom from Diotima of Mantinea, and the like. But he does not impose on Menexenus by his dissimulation. Without violating the character of Socrates, Plato, who knows so well how to give a hint, or some one writing in his name, intimates clearly enough that the speech in the Menexenus like that in the Phaedrus is to be attributed to Socrates. The address of the dead to the living at the end of the oration may also be compared to the numerous addresses of the same kind which occur in Plato, in whom the dramatic element is always tending to prevail over the rhetorical. The remark has been often made, that in the Funeral Oration of Thucydides there is no allusion to the existence of the dead. But in the Menexenus a future state is clearly, although not strongly, asserted.

Whether the Menexenus is a genuine writing of Plato, or an imitation only, remains uncertain. In either case, the thoughts are partly borrowed from the Funeral Oration of Thucydides; and the fact that they are so, is not in favour of the genuineness of the work. Internal evidence seems to leave the question of authorship in doubt. There are merits and there are defects which might lead to either conclusion. The form of the greater part of the work makes the enquiry difficult; the introduction and the finale certainly wear the look either of Plato or of an extremely skilful imitator. The excellence of the forgery may be fairly adduced as an argument that it is not a forgery at all. In this uncertainty the express testimony of Aristotle, who quotes, in the Rhetoric,[62] the well-known words, ‘It is easy to praise the Athenians among the Athenians,’ from the Funeral Oration, may perhaps turn the balance in its favour. It must be remembered also that the work was famous in antiquity, and is included in the Alexandrian catalogues of Platonic writings.

MENEXENUS.

PERSONS OF THE DIALOGUE.

Socrates and Menexenus.

Menexenus.

Socrates. Whence come you, Menexenus? Are you from the Agora? Steph. 234

Menexenus. Yes, Socrates; I have been at the Council.

Soc. And what might you be doing at the Council? And yet I need hardly ask, for I see that you, believing yourself to have arrived at the end of education and of philosophy, and to have had enough of them, are mounting upwards to things higher still, and, though rather young for the post, are intending to govern us elder men, like the rest of your family, which has always provided some one who kindly took care of us.

Men. Yes, Socrates, I shall be ready to hold office, if you allow and advise that I should, but not if you think otherwise. I went to the council chamber because I heard that the Council was about to choose some one who was to speak over the dead. For you know that there is to be a public funeral?

Soc. Yes, I know. And whom did they choose?

Men. No one; they delayed the election until to-morrow, but I believe that either Archinus or Dion will be chosen.

The gain of dying in battle.

The effect upon Socrates of panegyrical oratory.

Easy to praise Athenians among Peloponnesians.

Soc. O Menexenus! death in battle is certainly in many respects a noble thing. The dead man gets a fine and costly funeral, although he may have been poor, and an elaborate speech is made over him by a wise man who has long ago prepared what he has to say, although he who is praised may not have been good for much. The speakers praise him for what he has done and for what he has not done—that is the beauty of them—and they steal away our souls with their embellished words; in every conceivable form they praise 235 the city; and they praise those who died in war, and all our ancestors who went before us; and they praise ourselves also who are still alive, until I feel quite elevated by their laudations, and I stand listening to their words, Menexenus, and become enchanted by them, and all in a moment I imagine myself to have become a greater and nobler and finer man than I was before. And if, as often happens, there are any foreigners who accompany me to the speech, I become suddenly conscious of having a sort of triumph over them, and they seem to experience a corresponding feeling of admiration at me, and at the greatness of the city, which appears to them, when they are under the influence of the speaker, more wonderful than ever. This consciousness of dignity lasts me more than three days, and not until the fourth or fifth day do I come to my senses and know where I am; in the meantime I have been living in the Islands of the Blest. Such is the art of our rhetoricians, and in such manner does the sound of their words keep ringing in my ears.

Socrates always making fun of the rhetoricians.

Men. You are always making fun of the rhetoricians, Socrates; this time, however, I am inclined to think that the speaker who is chosen will not have much to say, for he has been called upon to speak at a moment’s notice, and he will be compelled almost to improvise.

Soc. But why, my friend, should he not have plenty to say? Every rhetorician has speeches ready made; nor is there any difficulty in improvising that sort of stuff. Had the orator to praise Athenians among Peloponnesians, or Peloponnesians among Athenians, he would be a good rhetorician who could succeed and gain credit. But there is no difficulty in a man’s winning applause when he is contending for fame among the persons whom he is praising.

Men. Do you think not, Socrates?

Soc. Certainly ‘not.’

Could Socrates himself make a funeral oration?

Men. Do you think that you could speak yourself if there should be a necessity, and if the Council were to choose you?

Soc. That I should be able to speak is no great wonder, Menexenus, considering that I have an excellent mistress in the art of rhetoric,—she who has made so many good speakers, and one who was the best among all the Hellenes—Pericles, the son of Xanthippus.

Aspasia the teacher both of Pericles and of Socrates.

Men. And who is she? I suppose that you mean Aspasia.

Yes; for he is a pupil of Aspasia.

Soc. Yes, I do; and besides her I had Connus, the son of Metrobius, as a master, and he was my master in music, as 236 she was in rhetoric. No wonder that a man who has received such an education should be a finished speaker; even the pupil of very inferior masters, say, for example, one who had learned music of Lamprus, and rhetoric of Antiphon the Rhamnusian, might make a figure if he were to praise the Athenians among the Athenians.

Men. And what would you be able to say if you had to speak?

The funeral oration composed by Aspasia.

Soc. Of my own wit, most likely nothing; but yesterday I heard Aspasia composing a funeral oration about these very dead. For she had been told, as you were saying, that the Athenians were going to choose a speaker, and she repeated to me the sort of speech which he should deliver, partly improvising and partly from previous thought, putting together fragments of the funeral oration which Pericles spoke, but which, as I believe, she composed.

Men. And can you remember what Aspasia said?

Soc. I ought to be able, for she taught me, and she was ready to strike me because I was always forgetting.

Men. Then why will you not rehearse what she said?

Soc. Because I am afraid that my mistress may be angry with me if I publish her speech.

Men. Nay, Socrates, let us have the speech, whether Aspasia’s or any one else’s, no matter. I hope that you will oblige me.

Soc. But I am afraid that you will laugh at me if I continue the games of youth in old age.

Men. Far otherwise, Socrates; let us by all means have the speech.

Soc. Truly I have such a disposition to oblige you, that if you bid me dance naked I should not like to refuse, since we are alone. Listen then: If I remember rightly, she began as follows, with the mention of the dead[63]:—

The panegyric on the dead.

There is a tribute of deeds and of words. The departed have already had the first, when going forth on their destined journey they were attended on their way by the state and by their friends; the tribute of words remains to be given to them, as is meet and by law ordained. For noble words are a memorial and a crown of noble actions, which are given to the doers of them by the hearers. A word is needed which will duly praise the dead and gently admonish the living, exhorting the brethren and descendants of the departed to imitate their virtue, and consoling their fathers and mothers and the survivors, if any, who may chance to be alive of the 237 previous generation. What sort of a word will this be, and how shall we rightly begin the praises of these brave men? In their life they rejoiced their own friends with their valour, and their death they gave in exchange for the salvation of the living. And I think that we should praise them in the order in which nature made them good, for they were good because they were sprung from good fathers. Wherefore let us first of all praise the goodness of their birth; secondly, their nurture and education; and then let us set forth how noble their actions were, and how worthy of the education which they had received.

The departed were the children of the soil; and their country is dear to the Gods, who contended for the possession of her.

And first as to their birth. Their ancestors were not strangers, nor are these their descendants sojourners only, whose fathers have come from another country; but they are the children of the soil, dwelling and living in their own land. And the country which brought them up is not like other countries, a stepmother to her children, but their own true mother; she bore them and nourished them and received them, and in her bosom they now repose. It is meet and right, therefore, that we should begin by praising the land which is their mother, and that will be a way of praising their noble birth.

The pre-eminence of Attica.

She first brought forth man, and proved her true motherhood by providing food for her own offspring.

The Gods were the rulers of primitive men, and gave them arts.

The country is worthy to be praised, not only by us, but by all mankind; first, and above all, as being dear to the Gods. This is proved by the strife and contention of the Gods respecting her. And ought not the country which the Gods praise to be praised by all mankind? The second praise which may be fairly claimed by her, is that at the time when the whole earth was sending forth and creating diverse animals, tame and wild, she our mother was free and pure from savage monsters, and out of all animals selected and brought forth man, who is superior to the rest in understanding, and alone has justice and religion. And a great proof that she brought forth the common ancestors of us and of the departed, is that she provided the means of support for her offspring. For as a woman proves her motherhood by giving milk to her young ones (and she who has no fountain of milk is not a mother), so did this our land prove that she was the mother of men, for in those days she alone and first of all brought forth wheat and barley for human food, which is the best and noblest sustenance for man, 238 whom she regarded as her true offspring. And these are truer proofs of motherhood in a country than in a woman, for the woman in her conception and generation is but the imitation of the earth, and not the earth of the woman. And of the fruit of the earth she gave a plenteous supply, not only to her own, but to others also; and afterwards she made the olive to spring up to be a boon to her children, and to help them in their toils. And when she had herself nursed them and brought them up to manhood, she gave them Gods to be their rulers and teachers, whose names are well known, and need not now be repeated. They are the Gods who first ordered our lives, and instructed us in the arts for the supply of our daily needs, and taught us the acquisition and use of arms for the defence of the country.

We have a good government, which is sometimes called a democracy, but is really an aristocracy, for the best rule with the consent of the many.

The mythical glories of Athens.

The principle of our government is equality; the only superiority is that of virtue and wisdom.

Thus born into the world and thus educated, the ancestors of the departed lived and made themselves a government, which I ought briefly to commemorate. For government is the nurture of man, and the government of good men is good, and of bad men bad. And I must show that our ancestors were trained under a good government, and for this reason they were good, and our contemporaries are also good, among whom our departed friends are to be reckoned. Then as now, and indeed always, from that time to this, speaking generally, our government was an aristocracy—a form of government which receives various names, according to the fancies of men, and is sometimes called democracy, but is really an aristocracy or government of the best which has the approval of the many. For kings we have always had, first hereditary and then elected, and authority is mostly in the hands of the people, who dispense offices and power to those who appear to be most deserving of them. Neither is a man rejected from weakness or poverty or obscurity of origin, nor honoured by reason of the opposite, as in other states, but there is one principle—he who appears to be wise and good is a governor and ruler. The basis of this our government is equality of birth; for other states are made up of all sorts and unequal conditions of men, and therefore their governments are unequal; there are tyrannies and there are oligarchies, in which the one party are slaves and the other masters. But we and our citizens are brethren, the children all of one 239 mother, and we do not think it right to be one another’s masters or servants; but the natural equality of birth compels us to seek for legal equality, and to recognize no superiority except in the reputation of virtue and wisdom.

The greatness of Persia.

The battle of Marathon.

Yet at Marathon the army of Darius was overcome by the Athenians almost single-handed.

Salamis, Artemisium, and Plataea.

The men of Marathon should have the first place: those who followed in the war were their disciples, except the men who defeated the Persians at Salamis and first made proof of them at sea; these have the second place.

And the third place is to be assigned to those who fought at Plataea.

Eurymedon; Cyprus; Egypt.

And so their and our fathers, and these, too, our brethren, being nobly born and having been brought up in all freedom, did both in their public and private capacity many noble deeds famous over the whole world. They were the deeds of men who thought that they ought to fight both against Hellenes for the sake of Hellenes on behalf of freedom, and against barbarians in the common interest of Hellas. Time would fail me to tell of their defence of their country against the invasion of Eumolpus and the Amazons, or of their defence of the Argives against the Cadmeians, or of the Heracleids against the Argives; besides, the poets have already declared in song to all mankind their glory, and therefore any commemoration of their deeds in prose which we might attempt would hold a second place. They already have their reward, and I say no more of them; but there are other worthy deeds of which no poet has worthily sung, and which are still wooing the poet’s muse. Of these I am bound to make honourable mention, and shall invoke others to sing of them also in lyric and other strains, in a manner becoming the actors. And first I will tell how the Persians, lords of Asia, were enslaving Europe, and how the children of this land, who were our fathers, held them back. Of these I will speak first, and praise their valour, as is meet and fitting. He who would rightly estimate them should place himself in thought at that time, when the whole of Asia was subject to the third king of Persia. The first king, Cyrus, by his valour freed the Persians, who were his countrymen, and subjected the Medes, who were their lords, and he ruled over the rest of Asia, as far as Egypt; and after him came his son, who ruled all the accessible part of Egypt and Libya; the third king was Darius, who extended the land boundaries of the empire to Scythia, and with his fleet held the sea and the islands. None 240 presumed to be his equal; the minds of all men were enthralled by him—so many and mighty and warlike nations had the power of Persia subdued. Now Darius had a quarrel against us and the Eretrians, because, as he said, we had conspired against Sardis, and he sent 500,000 men in transports and vessels of war, and 300 ships, and Datis as commander, telling him to bring the Eretrians and Athenians to the king, if he wished to keep his head on his shoulders. He sailed against the Eretrians, who were reputed to be amongst the noblest and most warlike of the Hellenes of that day, and they were numerous, but he conquered them all in three days; and when he had conquered them, in order that no one might escape, he searched the whole country after this manner: his soldiers, coming to the borders of Eretria and spreading from sea to sea, joined hands and passed through the whole country, in order that they might be able to tell the king that no one had escaped them. And from Eretria they went to Marathon with a like intention, expecting to bind the Athenians in the same yoke of necessity in which they had bound the Eretrians. Having effected one-half of their purpose, they were in the act of attempting the other, and none of the Hellenes dared to assist either the Eretrians or the Athenians, except the Lacedaemonians, and they arrived a day too late for the battle; but the rest were panic-stricken and kept quiet, too happy in having escaped for a time. He who has present to his mind that conflict will know what manner of men they were who received the onset of the barbarians at Marathon, and chastened the pride of the whole of Asia, and by the victory which they gained over the barbarians first taught other men that the power of the Persians was not invincible, but that hosts of men and the multitude of riches alike yield to valour. And I assert that those men are the fathers not only of ourselves, but of our liberties and of the liberties of all who are on the continent, for that was the action to which the Hellenes looked back when they ventured to fight for their own safety in the battles which ensued: they became disciples of the men of Marathon. To them, therefore, I assign in my speech the first place, and the second to those 241 who fought and conquered in the sea fights at Salamis and Artemisium; for of them, too, one might have many things to say—of the assaults which they endured by sea and land, and how they repelled them. I will mention only that act of theirs which appears to me to be the noblest, and which followed that of Marathon and came nearest to it; for the men of Marathon only showed the Hellenes that it was possible to ward off the barbarians by land, the many by the few; but there was no proof that they could be defeated by ships, and at sea the Persians retained the reputation of being invincible in numbers and wealth and skill and strength. This is the glory of the men who fought at sea, that they dispelled the second terror which had hitherto possessed the Hellenes, and so made the fear of numbers, whether of ships or men, to cease among them. And so the soldiers of Marathon and the sailors of Salamis became the schoolmasters of Hellas; the one teaching and habituating the Hellenes not to fear the barbarians at sea, and the others not to fear them by land. Third in order, for the number and valour of the combatants, and third in the salvation of Hellas, I place the battle of Plataea. And now the Lacedaemonians as well as the Athenians took part in the struggle; they were all united in this greatest and most terrible conflict of all; wherefore their virtues will be celebrated in times to come, as they are now celebrated by us. But at a later period many Hellenic tribes were still on the side of the barbarians, and there was a report that the great king was going to make a new attempt upon the Hellenes, and therefore justice requires that we should also make mention of those who crowned the previous work of our salvation, and drove and purged away all barbarians from the sea. These were the men who fought by sea at the river Eurymedon, and who went on the expedition to Cyprus, and who sailed to Egypt and divers other places; and they should be gratefully remembered by us, because they compelled the king in fear for himself to look to his own safety instead of plotting the destruction of Hellas.