imity
of the citizens, and then in each of them doing his own separate work,
is brought to the required point of self-contradiction, leading him to
confess his own ignorance.

But he is not too old to learn, and may still arrive at the truth, if he
is willing to be cross-examined by Socrates. He must know himself; that
is to say, not his body, or the things of the body, but his mind, or
truer self. The physician knows the body, and the tradesman knows
his own business, but they do not necessarily know themselves.
Self-knowledge can be obtained only by looking into the mind and virtue
of the soul, which is the diviner part of a man, as we see our own image
in another's eye. And if we do not know ourselves, we cannot know what
belongs to ourselves or belongs to others, and are unfit to take a part
in political affairs. Both for the sake of the individual and of the
state, we ought to aim at justice and temperance, not at wealth or
power. The evil and unjust should have no power,--they should be
the slaves of better men than themselves. None but the virtuous are
deserving of freedom.

And are you, Alcibiades, a freeman? 'I feel that I am not; but I hope,
Socrates, that by your aid I may become free, and from this day forward
I will never leave you.'

The Alcibiades has several points of resemblance to the undoubted
dialogues of Plato. The process of interrogation is of the same kind
with that which Socrates practises upon the youthful Cleinias in the
Euthydemus; and he characteristically attributes to Alcibiades the
answers which he has elicited from him. The definition of good is
narrowed by successive questions, and virtue is shown to be identical
with knowledge. Here, as elsewhere, Socrates awakens the consciousness
not of sin but of ignorance. Self-humiliation is the first step to
knowledge, even of the commonest things. No man knows how ignorant he
is, and no man can arrive at virtue and wisdom who has not once in his
life, at least, been convicted of error. The process by which the soul
is elevated is not unlike that which religious writers describe under
the name of 'conversion,' if we substitute the sense of ignorance for
the consciousness of sin.

In some respects the dialogue differs from any other Platonic
composition. The aim is more directly ethical and hortatory; the process
by which the antagonist is undermined is simpler than in other Platonic
writings, and the conclusion more decided. There is a good