MENO.

INTRODUCTION.

THIS Dialogue begins abruptly with a question of Meno, who asks "Whether virtue can be taught." Socrates replies that he does not as yet know what virtue is, and has never known any one who did. Then he cannot have met Gorgias when he was at Athens." Yes, Socrates had met him, but he has a bad memory, and has forgotten what Gorgias said. Will Meno tell him his own notion, which is probably not very different from that of Gorgias? O yes

nothing easier; there is the virtue of a man, of a woman, of an old man, and of a child; there is a virtue of every age and state of life, all of which may be easily described."

For there

Socrates reminds Meno that this is only an enumeration of the virtues and not a definition of the notion which is common to them all. Meno tries again; this time he defines virtue to be the power of command." But to this, again, exceptions are taken. must be a virtue of those who obey, as well as of those who command; and the power of command must be justly or not unjustly exercised. Meno is very ready to admit that justice is virtue: “Would you say virtue or a virtue, for there are other virtues, such as courage, temperance, and the like; just as round is a figure, and black and white are colors, and yet there are other figures and other colors. Let Meno take the examples of figure and color, and try to define them." Meno confesses his inability, and after a process of interrogation, in which Socrates explains to him the nature of a "simile in multis," Socrates himself defines figure as "the accompaniment of color." But some one may object that he does not know the meaning of the word "color; " and if he is a candid friend, and not a mere disputant, Socrates is willing to furnish him with a simpler and more philosophical definition, in which no disputed word is allowed to intrude: "Figure is the limit of form." Meno imperiously insists that he must still have a definition of color. To which, after some playful raillery, Socrates is induced to reply, "That color is the effluence of form in due proportion to the sight." This definition is exactly suited to the taste of Meno, who welcomes the familiar language of Gorgias and Empedocles. Socrates is of

opinion that the more abstract or dialectical definition of figure is far better.

Now that Meno has been made to understand the nature of a general definition, he answers in the spirit of a Greek gentleman, and in the words of a poet, "that virtue is to delight in things honorable, and to have the power of getting them." This is a nearer approximation than he has yet made to a complete definition, and, regarded as a piece of proverbial or popular morality, is not far from the truth. But the objection is urged, "that the honorable is the good," and as every one desires the good, the point of the definition is contained in the last words, "the power of getting them." "And they must be got justly or with justice." The definition will then stand thus: Virtue is the power of getting good with justice." But justice is a part of virtue, and therefore virtue is the getting of good with a part of virtue. The definition repeats the word de

fined.

Meno complains that the conversation of Socrates has the effect of a torpedo's shock upon him. When he talks with other persons he has plenty to say about virtue; in the presence of Socrates, his thoughts seem to desert him. Socrates replies that he is only the cause of perplexity in others, because he is himself perplexed. He proposes to continue the inquiry. But how, asks Meno, can he inquire either into what he knows or into what he does not know? This is a sophistical puzzle, which, as Socrates remarks, saves a great deal of trouble to him who accepts it. But the puzzle has a real difficulty latent under it, to which Socrates replies in a figure. The difficulty is the origin of knowledge.

He professes to have heard from priests and priestesses, and from the poet Pindar, of an immortal soul which is always learning and forgetting in successive periods of existence, wandering over all places of the upper and under world, having seen and known all things at one time or other, and by association out of one thing capable of recovering all. For nature is of one kindred; and every soul has a seed or germ which may be developed into all knowledge. The existence of this latent knowledge is further proved by the interrogation of one of Meno's slaves, who, in the skillful hands of Socrates, is made to acknowledge some elementary relations of geometrical figures. The theorem that the square of the diagonal is double the square of the side that famous discovery of primitive mathematics, in honor of which the legendary Pythagoras is said to have sacrificed a hecatomb — is elicited from him. The first step in the process of teaching has made him conscious of his own ignorance. He has had the "the torpedo's shock" given him, and is the better for the operation. But whence had the uneducated man this knowledge? He had never learnt geometry in this world: nor was it born with him; he must therefore have had it in a previous existence. (Cp. Phaedo 73, B.)

After Socrates has given this specimen of the true nature of teaching, the original question of the teachableness of virtue is renewed. Again he professes a desire to know "what virtue is " first. But he is willing to argue the question, as mathematicians say, under an hypothesis. He will assume that if virtue is knowledge, then virtue can be taught. (This was the stage of the argument at which the Protagoras concluded.)

Socrates has no difficulty in showing that virtue is a good, and that goods, whether of body or mind, must be under the direction of knowledge. Upon the assumption just made, then, virtue is teachable. But where are the teachers? There are none found. This is extremely discouraging. Virtue is no sooner discovered to be teachable, than the discovery follows that it is not taught. Virtue, therefore, is and is not teachable.

In this dilemma an appeal is made to Anytus, who is a respectable and well-to-do citizen of the old school. and happens to be present. He is asked Whether Meno shall go to the Sophists and he taught." The very suggestion of this throws him into a rage. "To whom, then, shall Meno go?" asks Socrates. To any Athenian gentleman to the great Athenian statesmen of past times. Socrates replies here, as elsewhere (Laches 179 C, foll.; Prot. 319, foll.), that Themistocles, Pericles, and other great men, never taught their sons anything worth learning; and they would surely, if they could, have imparted to them their own political wisdom. Anytus is angry at the imputation which is supposed to be cast on his favorite statesmen, and breaks off with a significant threat.

Socrates returns to the consideration of the question "Whether virtue is teachable," which was denied on the ground that there are no teachers of it (for the Sophists are bad teachers, and the rest of the world do not profess to teach). But there is another point which we failed to observe, and in which Gorgias has never instructed Meno, nor Prodicus Socrates. This is the nature of right opinion. For virtue may be under the guidance of right opinion as well as knowledge; and right opinion is for practical purposes as good as knowledge, but is incapable of being taught, and is also liable to "walk off," because not bound by the tie of the cause. This is the sort of instinct which is possessed by statesmen, who are not wise or knowing persons, but only inspired or divine. The higher virtue, which is identical with knowledge, is an ideal only. If the statesman had this knowledge, and could teach what he knew, he would be like Tiresias in the world below, "He alone would have wisdom, while the rest flit as shadows."

This Dialogue is an attempt to answer the question, Can virtue be taught? No one would either ask or answer such a question in modern times. But in the age of Socrates it was only by an effort