ALCIBIADES: No.
SOCRATES: He did not intend to slay the first woman he came across, nor
any one else's mother, but only his own?
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: Ignorance, then, is better for those who are in such a frame of
mind, and have such ideas?
ALCIBIADES: Obviously.
SOCRATES: 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?
ALCIBIADES: I do.
SOCRATES: And there is still another case which will also perhaps appear
strange to you, if you will consider it? (The reading is here uncertain.)
ALCIBIADES: What is that, Socrates?
SOCRATES: 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?
ALCIBIADES: Yes, in my opinion.
SOCRATES: We may take the orators for an example, who from time to time
advise us about war and peace, or the building 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.
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: But now see what follows, if I can (make it clear to you).
(Some words appear to have dropped out here.) You would distinguish the
wise from the foolish?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: The many are foolish, the few wise?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly.
SOCRATES: And you use both the terms, 'wise' and 'foolish,' in reference
to something?
ALCIBIADES: I do.
SOCRATES: 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?
ALCIBIADES: Decidedly not.
SOCRATES: 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?
ALCIBIADES: No.
SOCRATES: 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?
ALCIBIADES: Certainly not.
SOCRATES: 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?--
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES:--Such an one, I say, we should call wise and a useful adviser
both of himself and of the city. What do you think?
ALCIBIADES: I agree.
SOCRATES: 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?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: And in a similar way you speak of a good boxer or a good flute-
player or a good performer in any other art?
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: 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?
ALCIBIADES: All the difference in the world.
SOCRATES: 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 whom?
ALCIBIADES: I should call such a state bad, Socrates.
SOCRATES: 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.' (Euripides, Antiope.)
--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?
ALCIBIADES: Decidedly.
SOCRATES: 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?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: 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?
ALCIBIADES: True.
SOCRATES: And if he do the contrary, both he and the state will suffer?
ALCIBIADES: Yes.
SOCRATES: Well, and are you of the same mind, as before?
ALCIBIADES: I am.
SOCRATES: But were you not saying that you would call the many unwise and
the few wise?
ALCIBIADES: I was.
SOCRATES: 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?
ALCIBIADES: That is the case.
SOCRATES: 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?
ALCIBIADES: What you say is very true.
SOCRATES: 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?
ALCIBIADES: I do now, if I did not before, Socrates.
SOCRATES: 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 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 (Or, reading polumatheian, 'abundant learning.'), 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.' (A fragment from the pseudo-Homeric poem,
'Margites.')
ALCIBIADES: 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.
SOCRATES: 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.
ALCIBIADES: 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.
SOCRATES: And you are right in thinking so.
ALCIBIADES: Well, that is my opinion.
SOCRATES: 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 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?
ALCIBIADES: Indeed, Socrates, I could not answer you without
consideration. It seems to me to be a wild thing (The Homeric word margos
is said to be here employed in allusion to the quotation from the
'Margites' which Socrates has just made; but it is not used in the sense
which it has in Homer.) 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.
SOCRATES: 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?
ALCIBIADES: I believe that you are right.
SOCRATES: 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.
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. 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 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
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.
ALCIBIADES: I agree, Socrates, with you and with the God, whom, indeed, it
