Meno

Soc.

I must say I have often inquired whether there were any, but for all my pains I cannot find one. And yet many have shared the search with me, and particularly those persons whom I regard as best qualified for the task. But look, Meno: here, at the very moment when he was wanted, we have Anytus sitting down beside us, to take his share in our quest. And we may well ask his assistance; for our friend Anytus, in the first place, is the son of a wise and wealthy father, Anthemion, who became rich not by a fluke or a gift—like that man the other day, Ismenias[*](A democratic leader at Thebes who assisted Anytus and the other exiled Athenian democrates in 403 B.C., shortly before their return to Athens and the supposed time of this dialogue (about 402 B.C.). Cf. Plat. Rep. 1.336a.) the Theban, who has come into the fortune of a Polycrates[*](Tyrant of Samos about 530 B.C. Cf. Hdt. 3.39 ff.)—but as the product of his own skill and industry[*](As a tanner); and secondly, he has the name of being in general a well-conducted, mannerly person, not insolent towards his fellow-citizens or arrogant and annoying; and further, he gave his son a good upbringing and education, as the Athenian people think, for they choose him for the highest offices. This is the sort of man to whom one may look for help in the inquiry as to whether there are teachers of virtue or not, and who they may be. So please, Anytus, join with me and your family-friend Meno in our inquiry about this matter—who can be the teachers. Consider it thus: if we wanted Meno here to be a good doctor, to whom should we send him for instruction? Would it not be to the doctors?

An.

Certainly.

Soc.

And if we wanted him to become a good cobbler, should we not send him to the cobblers?

An.

Yes.

Soc.

And in the same way with every other trade?

An.

Certainly.

Soc.

Now let me ask you something more about these same instances. We should be right, we say, in sending him to the doctors if we wanted him to be a doctor. When we say this, do we mean that we should be wise in sending him to those who profess the art rather than those who do not, and to those who charge a fee for the particular thing they do, as avowed teachers of anyone who wishes to come and learn of them? If these were our reasons, should we not be right in sending him?

An.

Yes.

Soc.

And the same would hold in the case of flute-playing, and so on with the rest? What folly, when we wanted to make someone a flute-player, to refuse to send him to the professed teachers of the art, who charge a regular fee, and to bother with requests for instruction other people who neither set up to be teachers nor have a single pupil in that sort of study which we expect him, when sent, to pursue! Do you not consider this would be grossly unreasonable?

An.

Yes, on my word, I do, and stupid to boot.

Soc.

Quite right. And now there is an opportunity of your joining me in a consultation on my friend Meno here. He has been declaring to me ever so long, Anytus, that he desires to have that wisdom and virtue whereby men keep their house or their city in good order, and honor their parents, and know when to welcome and when to speed citizens and strangers as befits a good man. Now tell me, to whom ought we properly to send him for lessons in this virtue? Or is it clear enough, from our argument just now, that he should go to these men who profess to be teachers of virtue and advertise themselves as the common teachers of the Greeks, and are ready to instruct anyone who chooses in return for fees charged on a fixed scale?

An.

To whom are you referring, Socrates?

Soc.

Surely you know as well as anyone; they are the men whom people call sophists.

An.

For heaven’s sake hold your tongue, Socrates! May no kinsman or friend of mine, whether of this city or another, be seized with such madness as to let himself be infected with the company of those men; for they are a manifest plague and corruption to those who frequent them.[*](Anytus’ vehemence expresses the hostility of the ordinary practical democrat, after the restoration of 403 B.C., towards any novel movement in the state.)

Soc.

What is this, Anytus? Of all the people who set up to understand how to do us good, do you mean to single out these as conveying not merely no benefit, such as the rest can give, but actually corruption to anyone placed in their hands? And is it for doing this that they openly claim the payment of fees? For my part I cannot bring myself to believe you; for I know of one man, Protagoras, who amassed more money by his craft than Pheidias—so famous for the noble works he produced—or any ten other sculptors. And yet how surprising that menders of old shoes and furbishers of clothes should not be able to go undetected thirty days if they should return the clothes or shoes in worse condition than they received them, and that such doings on their part would quickly starve them to death, while for more than forty years all Greece failed to notice that Protagoras was corrupting his classes and sending his pupils away in a worse state than when he took charge of them! For I believe he died about seventy years old, forty of which he spent in the practice of his art;

Soc.

and he retains undiminished to this day the high reputation he has enjoyed all that time—and not only Protagoras, but a multitude of others too: some who lived before him, and others still living. Now are we to take it, according to you, that they wittingly deceived and corrupted the youth, or that they were themselves unconscious of it? Are we to conclude those who are frequently termed the wisest of mankind to have been so demented as that?

An.

Demented! Not they, Socrates: far rather the young men who pay them money, and still more the relations who let the young men have their way; and most of all the cities that allow them to enter, and do not expel them, whether such attempt be made by stranger or citizen.

Soc.

Tell me, Anytus, has any of the sophists wronged you? What makes you so hard on them?

An.

No, heaven knows I have never in my life had dealings with any of them, nor would I let any of my people have to do with them either.

Soc.

Then you have absolutely no experience of those persons?

An.

And trust I never may.

Soc.

How then, my good sir, can you tell whether a thing has any good or evil in it, if you are quite without experience of it?

An.

Easily: the fact is, I know what these people are, whether I have experience of them or not.

Soc.

You are a wizard, perhaps, Anytus; for I really cannot see, from what you say yourself, how else you can know anything about them. But we are not inquiring now who the teachers are whose lessons would make Meno wicked; let us grant, if you will, that they are the sophists: I only ask you to tell us, and do Meno a service as a friend of your family by letting him know, to whom in all this great city he should apply in order to become eminent in the virtue which I described just now.

An.

Why not tell him yourself?

Soc.

I did mention to him the men whom I supposed to be teachers of these things; but I find, from what you say, that I am quite off the track, and I daresay you are on it. Now you take your turn, and tell him to whom of the Athenians he is to go. Give us a name—anyone you please.

An.

Why mention a particular one? Any Athenian gentleman he comes across, without exception, will do him more good, if he will do as he is bid, than the sophists.

Soc.

And did those gentlemen grow spontaneously into what they are, and without learning from anybody are they able, nevertheless, to teach others what they did not learn themselves?

An.

I expect they must have learnt in their turn from the older generation, who were gentlemen: or does it not seem to you that we have had many good men in this city?

Soc.

Yes, I agree, Anytus; we have also many who are good at politics, and have had them in the past as well as now. But I want to know whether they have proved good teachers besides of their own virtue: that is the question with which our discussion is actually concerned; not whether there are, or formerly have been, good men here amongst us or not, but whether virtue is teachable; this has been our problem all the time. And our inquiry into this problem resolves itself into the question: Did the good men of our own and of former times know how to transmit to another man the virtue in respect of which they were good, or is it something not to be transmitted or taken over from one human being to another? That is the question I and Meno have been discussing all this time. Well, just consider it in your own way of speaking: would you not say that Themistocles was a good man?

An.

I would, particularly so.

Soc.

And if any man ever was a teacher of his own virtue, he especially was a good teacher of his?

An.

In my opinion, yes, assuming that he wished to be so.

Soc.

But can you suppose he would not have wished that other people should become good, honorable men—above all, I presume, his own son? Or do you think he was jealous of him, and deliberately refused to impart the virtue of his own goodness to him? Have you never heard how Themistocles had his son Cleophantus taught to be a good horseman? Why, he could keep his balance standing upright on horseback, and hurl the javelin while so standing, and perform many other wonderful feats in which his father had had him trained, so as to make him skilled in all that could be learnt from good masters. Surely you must have heard all this from your elders?

An.

I have.

Soc.

Then there could be no complaints of badness in his son’s nature?

An.

I daresay not.

Soc.

But I ask you—did you ever hear anybody, old or young, say that Cleophantus, son of Themistocles, had the same goodness and accomplishments as his father?

An.

Certainly not.

Soc.

And can we believe that his father chose to train his own son in those feats, and yet made him no better than his neighbors in his own particular accomplishments—if virtue, as alleged, was to be taught?

An.

On my word, I think not.

Soc.

Well, there you have a fine teacher of virtue who, you admit, was one of the best men of past times. Let us take another, Aristeides, son of Lysimachus: do you not admit that he was a good man?

An.

I do, absolutely, of course.

Soc.

Well, did he not train his son Lysimachus better than any other Athenian in all that masters could teach him? And in the result, do you consider he has turned out better than anyone else? You have been in his company, I know, and you see what he is like. Or take another example— the splendidly accomplished Pericles: he, as you are aware, brought up two sons, Paralus and Xanthippus.

An.

Yes.

Soc.

And, you know as well as I, he taught them to be the foremost horsemen of Athens, and trained them to excel in music and gymnastics and all else that comes under the head of the arts; and with all that, had he no desire to make them good men? He wished to, I imagine, but presumably it is not a thing one can be taught. And that you may not suppose it was only a few of the meanest sort of Athenians who failed in this matter, let me remind you that Thucydides’[*](Thucydides (son of Melesias, and no relation of the historian) was an aristocrat of high principle and conservative views who opposed the plans of Pericles for enriching and adorning Athens.) also brought up two sons, Melesias and Stephanus, and that besides giving them a good general education he made them the best wrestlers in Athens: one he placed with Xanthias, and the other with Eudorus—masters who, I should think, had the name of being the best exponents of the art. You remember them, do you not?

An.

Yes, by hearsay.

Soc.

Well, is it not obvious that this father would never have spent his money on having his children taught all those things, and then have omitted to teach them at no expense the others that would have made them good men, if virtue was to be taught? Will you say that perhaps Thucydides was one of the meaner sort, and had no great number of friends among the Athenians and allies? He, who was of a great house and had much influence in our city and all over Greece, so that if virtue were to be taught he would have found out the man who was likely to make his sons good, whether one of our own people or a foreigner, were he himself too busy owing to the cares of state! Ah no, my dear Anytus, it looks as though virtue were not a teachable thing.

An.

Socrates, I consider you are too apt to speak ill of people. I, for one, if you will take my advice, would warn you to be careful: in most cities it is probably easier to do people harm than good, and particularly in this one; I think you know that yourself.[*](Anytus goes away. His parting words show that (in Plato’s view) he regarded Socrates as an enemy of the restored democracy which, he hints, has popular juries only too ready to condemn such an awkward critic.)

Soc.

Meno, I think Anytus is angry, and I am not at all surprised: for he conceives, in the first place, that I am speaking ill of these gentlemen; and in the second place, he considers he is one of them himself. Yet, should the day come when he knows what speaking ill means, his anger will cease; at present he does not know.[*](This is probably not a reference to a prosecution of Anytus himself, but a suggestion that what he needs is a Socratic discussion on speaking ill, for ill may mean maliciously, untruthfully, ignorantly, etc.) Now you must answer me: are there not good and honorable men among your people also?

Men.

Certainly.

Soc.

Well then, are they willing to put themselves forward as teachers of the young, and avow that they are teachers and that virtue is to be taught?

Men.

No, no, Socrates, I assure you: sometimes you may hear them refer to it as teachable, but sometimes as not.

Soc.

Then are we to call those persons teachers of this thing, when they do not even agree on that great question?

Men.

I should say not, Socrates.

Soc.

Well, and what of the sophists? Do you consider these, its only professors, to be teachers of virtue?

Men.

That is a point, Socrates, for which I admire Gorgias: you will never hear him promising this, and he ridicules the others when he hears them promise it. Skill in speaking is what he takes it to be their business to produce.

Soc.

Then you do not think the sophists are teachers of virtue?

Men.

I cannot say, Socrates. I am in the same plight as the rest of the world: sometimes I think that they are, sometimes that they are not.

Soc.

And are you aware that not only you and other political folk are in two minds as to whether virtue is to be taught, but Theognis the poet also says, you remember, the very same thing?

Men.

In which part of his poems?

Soc.

In those elegiac lines where he says—

1. Eat and drink with these men; sit with them, and he pleasing unto them, who wield great power; for from the good wilt thou win thee lessons in the good; but mingle with the bad,

and thou wilt lose even the sense that thou hast.

Theognis 33-36 BergkDo you observe how in these words he implies that virtue is to be taught?

Men.

He does, evidently.

Soc.

But in some other lines he shifts his ground a little, saying—

1. Could understanding be created and put into a man

Theognis 434-438 Bergk (I think it runs thus)

many high rewards would they obtain

for he would have followed the precepts of wisdom: but not by teaching wilt thou ever make the had man good

Bergk 434-438. You notice how in the second passage he contradicts himself on the same point?

Men.

Apparently.

Soc.

Well, can you name any other subject in which the professing teachers are not only refused recognition as teachers of others, but regarded as not even understanding it themselves, and indeed as inferior in the very quality of which they claim to be teachers; while those who are themselves recognized as men of worth and honor say at one time that it is teachable, and at another that it is not? When people are so confused about this or that matter, can you say they are teachers in any proper sense of the word?

Men.

No, indeed, I cannot.

Soc.

Well, if neither the sophists nor the men who are themselves good and honorable are teachers of the subject, clearly no others can be?

Men.

I agree.

Soc.

And if there are no teachers, there can be no disciples either?

Men.

I think that statement is true.

Soc.

And we have admitted that a thing of which there are neither teachers nor disciples cannot be taught?

Men.

We have.

Soc.

So nowhere are any teachers of virtue to be found?

Men.

That is so.

Soc.

And if no teachers, then no disciples?

Men.

So it appears.

Soc.

Hence virtue cannot be taught?

Men.

It seems likely, if our investigation is correct. And that makes me wonder, I must say, Socrates, whether perhaps there are no good men at all, or by what possible sort of process good people can come to exist?

Soc.

I fear, Meno, you and I are but poor creatures, and Gorgias has been as faulty an educator of you as Prodicus of me. So our first duty is to look to ourselves, and try to find somebody who will have some means or other of making us better. I say this with special reference to our recent inquiry, in which I see that we absurdly failed to note that it is not only through the guidance of knowledge that human conduct is right and good; and it is probably owing to this that we fail to perceive by what means good men can be produced.

Men.

To what are you alluding, Socrates?

Soc.

I mean that good men must be useful: we were right, were we not, in admitting that this must needs be so?

Men.

Yes.

Soc.

And in thinking that they will be useful if they give us right guidance in conduct: here also, I suppose, our admission was correct?

Men.

Yes.

Soc.

But our assertion that it is impossible to give right guidance unless one has knowledge looks very like a mistake.

Men.

What do you mean by that?

Soc.

I will tell you. If a man knew the way to Larisa, or any other place you please, and walked there and led others, would he not give right and good guidance?

Men.

Certainly.

Soc.

Well, and a person who had a right opinion as to which was the way, but had never been there and did not really know, might give right guidance, might he not?

Men.

Certainly.

Soc.

And so long, I presume, as he has right opinion about that which the other man really knows, he will be just as good a guide—if he thinks the truth instead of knowing it—as the man who has the knowledge.

Men.

Just as good.

Soc.

Hence true opinion is as good a guide to rightness of action as knowledge; and this is a point we omitted just now in our consideration of the nature of virtue, when we stated that knowledge is the only guide of right action; whereas we find there is also true opinion.

Men.

So it seems.

Soc.

Then right opinion is just as useful as knowledge.

Men.

With this difference, Socrates, that he who has knowledge will always hit on the right way, whereas he who has right opinion will sometimes do so, but sometimes not.

Soc.

How do you mean? Will not he who always has right opinion be always right, so long as he opines rightly?

Men.

It appears to me that he must; and therefore I wonder, Socrates, this being the case, that knowledge should ever be more prized than right opinion, and why they should be two distinct and separate things.

Soc.

Well, do you know why it is that you wonder, or shall I tell you?

Men.

Please tell me.

Soc.

It is because you have not observed with attention the images of Daedalus.[*](Cf. Plat. Euthyph. 11. Socrates pretends to believe the old legend according to which Daedalus, the first sculptor, contrived a wonderful mechanism in his statues by which they could move.) But perhaps there are none in your country.

Men.

What is the point of your remark?

Soc.

That if they are not fastened up they play truant and run away; but, if fastened, they stay where they are.

Men.

Well, what of that?

Soc.

To possess one of his works which is let loose does not count for much in value; it will not stay with you any more than a runaway slave: but when fastened up it is worth a great deal, for his productions are very fine things And to what am I referring in all this? To true opinion. For these, so long as they stay with us, are a fine possession, and effect all that is good; but they do not care to stay for long, and run away out of the human soul, and thus are of no great value until one makes them fast with causal reasoning. And this process, friend Meno, is recollection, as in our previous talk we have agreed. But when once they are fastened, in the first place they turn into knowledge, and in the second, are abiding. And this is why knowledge is more prized than right opinion: the one transcends the other by its trammels.

Men.

Upon my word, Socrates, it seems to be very much as you say.

Soc.

And indeed I too speak as one who does not know but only conjectures: yet that there is a difference between right opinion and knowledge is not at all a conjecture with me but something I would particularly assert that I knew: there are not many things of which I would say that, but this one, at any rate, I will include among those that I know.

Men.

Yes, and you are right, Socrates, in so saying.

Soc.

Well, then, am I not right also in saying that true opinion leading the way renders the effect of each action as good as knowledge does?

Men.

There again, Socrates, I think you speak the truth.

Soc.

So that right opinion will be no whit inferior to knowledge in worth or usefulness as regards our actions, nor will the man who has right opinion be inferior to him who has knowledge.

Men.

That is so.

Soc.

And you know that the good man has been admitted by us to be useful.

Men.

Yes.

Soc.

Since then it is not only because of knowledge that men will be good and useful to their country, where such men are to be found, but also on account of right opinion; and since neither of these two things—knowledge and true opinion—is a natural property of mankind, being acquired—or do you think that either of them is natural?

Men.

Not I.

Soc.

Then if they are not natural, good people cannot be good by nature either.

Men.

Of course not.

Soc.

And since they are not an effect of nature, we next considered whether virtue can be taught.

Men.

Yes.

Soc.

And we thought it teachable if virtue is wisdom?

Men.

Yes.

Soc.

And if teachable, it must be wisdom?

Men.

Certainly.

Soc.

And if there were teachers, it could be taught, but if there were none, it could not?

Men.

Quite so.

Soc.

But surely we acknowledged that it had no teachers?

Men.

That is true.

Soc.

Then we acknowledged it neither was taught nor was wisdom?

Men.

Certainly.

Soc.

But yet we admitted it was a good?

Men.

Yes.

Soc.

And that which guides rightly is useful and good?

Men.

Certainly.

Soc.

And that there are only two things— true opinion and knowledge—that guide rightly and a man guides rightly if he have these; for things that come about by chance do not occur through human guidance; but where a man is a guide to what is right we find these two things—true opinion and knowledge.

Men.

I agree.

Soc.

Well now, since virtue is not taught, we no longer take it to be knowledge?

Men.

Apparently not.

Soc.

So of two good and useful things one has been rejected: knowledge cannot be our guide in political conduct.

Men.

I think not.

Soc.

Therefore it was not by any wisdom, nor because they were wise, that the sort of men we spoke of controlled their states—Themistocles and the rest of them, to whom our friend Anytus was referring a moment ago. For this reason it was that they were unable to make others like unto themselves—because their qualities were not an effect of knowledge.

Men.

The case is probably as you say, Socrates.

Soc.

And if not by knowledge, as the only alternative it must have been by good opinion. This is the means which statesmen employ for their direction of states, and they have nothing more to do with wisdom than soothsayers and diviners; for these people utter many a true thing when inspired, but have no knowledge of anything they say.

Men.

I daresay that is so.

Soc.

And may we, Meno, rightly call those men divine who, having no understanding, yet succeed in many a great deed and word?

Men.

Certainly.

Soc.

Then we shall be right in calling those divine of whom we spoke just now as soothsayers and prophets and all of the poetic turn; and especially we can say of the statesmen that they are divine and enraptured, as being inspired and possessed of God when they succeed in speaking many great things, while knowing nought of what they say.

Men.

Certainly.

Soc.

And the women too, I presume, Meno, call good men divine; and the Spartans, when they eulogize a good man, say—He is a divine person.

Men.

And to all appearance, Socrates, they are right; though perhaps our friend Anytus may be annoyed at your statement.

Soc.

For my part, I care not. As for him, Meno, we will converse with him some other time. At the moment, if through all this discussion our queries and statements have been correct, virtue is found to be neither natural nor taught, but is imparted to us by a divine dispensation without understanding in those who receive it, unless there should be somebody among the statesmen capable of making a statesman of another. And if there should be any such, he might fairly be said to be among the living what Homer says Teiresias was among the dead—

He alone has comprehension; the rest are flitting shades.

[*](Hom. Od. 10.494) In the same way he on earth, in respect of virtue, will be a real substance among shadows.

Men.

I think you put it excellently, Socrates.

Soc.

Then the result of our reasoning, Meno, is found to be that virtue comes to us by a divine dispensation, when it does come. But the certainty of this we shall only know when, before asking in what way virtue comes to mankind, we set about inquiring what virtue is, in and by itself. It is time now for me to go my way, but do you persuade our friend Anytus of that whereof you are now yourself persuaded, so as to put him in a gentler mood; for if you can persuade him, you will do a good turn to the people of Athens also.