Digression 3, Plato’s date of birth in the Wikipedia Article on Plato

The Wikipedia Article on Plato says: ‘The traditional date of Plato’s birth during the 87^th or 88^th Olympiad, 428 or 427 BC, is based on a dubious interpretation of Diogenes Laërtius, who says, “When [Socrates] was gone, [Plato] joined Cratylus the Heracleitean and Hermogenes, who philosophised in the manner of Parmenides. Then, at twenty-eight, Hermodorus says, [Plato] went to Eucleides in Megara.” However, as Debra Nails argues, the text does not state that Plato left for Megara immediately after joining Cratylus and Hermogenes. In his Seventh Letter, Plato notes that his coming of age coincided with the taking of power by the Thirty, remarking, “But a youth under the age of twenty made himself a laughingstock if he attempted to enter the political arena.” Thus, Nails dates Plato’s birth to 424/423.’

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One thing is certain. If the author of the article is right, my attempt to understand Plato on the basis of the ancient dating of the Phaedrus as Plato’s first dialogue, written during Socrates’ lifetime, is laughable. I date the dialogue to 405 BC, composed during the last year of the democracy before the oligarchs took over after the defeat of Athens by Sparta and its allies (See ‘Plato’s first two dialogues’ on my website). On the Wikipedia dating of Plato’s birth, Plato was nineteen years old at the time.

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The author of the article quotes correctly what Diogenes Laërtius says in his ‘Plato’ (III. 6), but as to Debra Nails argument concerning it, let me give it in her own words: ‘The text itself gives no reason to infer that Plato left immediately for Megara and implies the very opposite.’

What Debra Nails missed is the more extensive reference to Hermodorus, which is given in Diogenes Laërtius’ article on ‘Eucleides’: ‘Eucleides was a native of Megara (Eukleidȇs apo Megarȏn) … He applied himself to the writings of Parmenides (houtos kai ta Parmenideia metecheirizeto), and his followers were called Megareans after him (kai hoi ap’ autou Megarikoi prosȇgoreuonto) … Hermodorus tells us that, after the death of Socrates, Plato and the rest of the philosophers came to him (pros touton phȇsin ho Hermodȏros aphikesthai Platȏna kai tous loipous philosophous meta tȇn tou Sȏkratous teleutȇn), being alarmed at the cruelty of the tyrants (deisantes tȇn ȏmotȇta tȏn turannȏn).’(II.106)

Hermodorus, a disciple of Plato who wrote a book about him (John Burnet, Plato’s Phaedo, ‘Introduction’, n.1), refers to the leading democrats as tyrants, undoubtedly in harmony with Plato, who viewed them as such after they put Socrates to death. This is not an unwarranted guess. Plato in the Seventh Letter describes the attempt of the Thirty [tyrants] to implicate Socrates in their crimes (324e-325a). Then he speaks in the same manner of the leading democrats who prosecuted Socrates: ‘But once more it happened (kata de tina tuchȇn au) that some of those in power brought my friend Socrates, whom I have mentioned, to trial before a court of law (ton hetairon hȇmȏn Sȏkratȇ touton dunasteuontes tines eisagousin eis diakastȇrion, 325b.’

Debra Nails appears to have taken her quotation from Diogenes Laërtius III.6 as if it were all from Hermodorus; only in that way can she take it as an expression of a temporal sequence: ‘When [Socrates] was gone, [Plato] joined Cratylus the Heracleitean and Hermogenes, who philosophised in the manner of Parmenides. Then, at twenty-eight, Hermodorus says, [Plato] went to Eucleides in Megara.’ But this is not the case, as Diog. II.106 clearly demonstrates. There is no temporal relationship between the statement concerning Plato’s association with Cratylus and Hermogenes, and the statement concerning Plato’s stay in Megara; each refers to what happened after the death of Socrates.

Hermodorus’ statement that after the death of Socrates Plato and the rest of the philosophers came to Eucleides ‘being alarmed at the cruelty of the tyrants’ can be corroborated. 1/ When Crito came to prison in his attempt to persuade Socrates to escape from prison, he said that the escape had been well prepared by his friends. He named only Simmias and Cebes, who were from Thebes and thus outside the Athenian jurisdiction, but there can be little doubt that Plato and the other close friends and followers of Socrates were involved in those preparations (Plato, Crito, 45a-b), and thus they had every reason to believe that Anytus and those around him would not be satisfied with putting Socrates to death; his disciples expected to come next. 2/ Anytus, the man who was directly responsible for Socrates’ death sentence (Plato, Apology, 18b, 29b-c), made a great diatribe against the sophists in his discussion with Socrates in Plato’s Meno, accusing of madness the cities that allow them to enter and to corrupt their young men. In his view they should be expelled, whether they are strangers or citizens (92a-b). He didn’t yet count Socrates as one of them, but he resented the way Socrates pointed out to him that even the best Athenian politicians of the past, let alone those of the present day, lacked the ability to teach their political virtues even to their own children, let alone to anyone else; he ended with a veiled threat: ‘Socrates (Ō Sȏkrates), I consider you are too apt to speak ill of people (raidiȏs moi dokeis kakȏs legein anthrȏpous). I for one, if you will take my advice, would warn you to be careful (egȏ men oun an soi sumbouleusaimi, ei etheleis moi peithesthai, eulabeisthai): in most cities it is probably easier to do people harm than good (hȏs isȏs men kai en allȇi polei raion esti kakȏs poiein anthrȏpous ȇ eu), and particularly in this one (en tȇide de kai panu); I think you know that yourself (oimai de se kai auton eidenai).’ (94e3-95a1)

After the death of Socrates his friends and followers had every reason to emigrate. Unexpectedly, Socrates’ refusal to break the Laws of Athens by escaping from prison fundamentally changed the situation; Plato wrote the Crito, he and other Socrates’ friends could return. We have therefore every reason to believe that it was after their return to Athens that Plato ‘associated with Cratylus the Heracleitean and Hermogenes who philosophized in the manner of Parmenides’ (proseiche Kratulȏi te tȏi Hȇrakleiteiȏi kai Hermogenei tȏi ta Parmenidou philosophounti, Diog. Laert. III, 6).

As can be seen, Debra Nails’ attempt to discredit the traditional date of Plato’s birth during the 88^th Olympiad, in 427 BC, can be dismissed as failed. But what about her reasons for dating Plato’s birth at 423/424? As has been seen, the Wikipedia article on Plato says the following: ‘In his Seventh Letter, Plato notes that his coming of age coincided with the taking of power by the Thirty, remarking, “But a youth under the age of twenty made himself a laughingstock if he attempted to enter the political arena.” Thus, Nails dates Plato’s birth to 424/423.’  –  There is no such remark in Plato’s Seventh Letter.

Debra Nails does not attribute the sentence ‘But a youth under the age of twenty made himself a laughingstock if he attempted to enter the political arena’ to Plato’s Seventh Letter; she refers it to Xenophon’s Memorabilia 3, 6. Since it plays an important role in her dating of Plato’s birth, let me quote Xenophon: ‘Ariston’s son, Glaucon (Glaukȏna de ton Aristȏnos), was attempting to become an orator (hot’ epecheirei dȇmȇgorein) and striving for headship in the state (epithumȏn prostateuein tȇs poleȏs), though he was less than twenty years old (oudepȏ eikosin etȇ gegonȏs); and none of his friends or relations could check him (tȏn allȏn oikeiȏn kai philȏn oudeis edunato pausai), though he would get himself dragged from the platform (helkomenon te apo tou bȇmatos) and make himself a laughing-stock (kai katagelaston onta). Only Socrates, who took an interest in him (Sȏkratȇs de eunous ȏn autȏi) for the sake of Plato and Glaucon’s son Charmides (dia te Charmidȇn tou Glaukȏnos kai dia Platȏna), managed to check him (monos epausen).’

Incidentally, on her dating of Plato’s birth, Nails makes Plato a younger brother of Charmides. In her entry on Glaucon she nevertheless says: ‘Rather surprisingly, APF [J.K. Davies, Athenian Propertied Families] goes to some lengths to preserve the accuracy of Xenophon (Mem. 3.6), according to whom a brash Glaucon, not yet twenty, is dissuaded from premature political activity by Socrates, who acts out of regard for Adeimantus and Plato. But Diogenes 3.6 reports that Plato knew Socrates only from the age of twenty; on this evidence, Glaucon would be Plato’s younger brother.’ (D. Nails, The People of Plato, p. 156)

A quibble: Nails says that according to Xenophon Socrates checked Glaucon ‘out of regard for Adeimantus’, [Plato’s elder brother], while Xenophon says that he did so ‘for the sake of Glaucon’s son Charmides [Plato’s uncle] and Plato (dia te Charmidȇn tou Glaukȏnos kai dia Platȏna). Why E.C. Marchant changes the order of these two men in his translation of Xenophon’ Memorabilia defies my understanding. Xenophon refers to Charmides first, for he and Socrates became friends at the time when Plato was born, if we date his birth at 429 B.C. (see Diog. Laert. III.3, cf. Plato’s Charmides).

For her date of Plato’s birth Nails relies on Plato’s Seventh Letter 324b-d. I’ll give the relevant part of her quotation, adding the original and underlying the lines only in the two instances, in which she translated the text so as to suit her dating of Plato’s birth: ‘When I was a young man I had the same ambition as many others: I thought of entering public life as soon as I came of age. And certain happenings in public affairs favoured me, as follows (kai moi tuchai tines tôn tês poleôs pragmatôn toiaide parepeson). The constitution we then had, being anathema to many, was overthrown; and a new government was set up consisting of fifty-one men, two groups – one of eleven and another ten – to police the marketplace and perform other necessary duties in the city and the Piraeus respectively, and above them thirty other officers with absolute powers. Some of these men (toutôn de tines) happened to be relatives and acquaintances of mine (oikeioi te ontes kai gnôrimoi etunchanon emoi), and they invited me to join them at once in what seemed to be a proper undertaking (kai dê kai parekaloun euthus hôs epi prosêkonta pragmata me). My attitude towards them is not surprising, because I was young. I thought that they were going to lead the city out of the unjust life she had been living and establish her in the path of justice, so that I watched them eagerly to see what they would do.’ (Letter 7.324b-d)

Debra Nails ‘explains’: ‘Plato makes his [Plato’s] coming of age congruent with the ascendance of the Thirty … It thus appears that Plato is turning twenty as the Thirty take control of Athens; and that he does not immediately accept the invitation to join them is unexceptional, given his youth. Hence I date Plato’s birth 424/3 [the Thirty took power in 404 and were overthrown by the democrats in 403].’ (D. Nails, Op. cit. p. 246)

In fact, there is nothing in the Seventh Letter that suggests ‘that Plato is turning twenty as the Thirty take control of Athens’. As the text stands, his desire to enter politics preceded the Thirty. He does not speak of the Thirty taking control of Athens in terms of happenings that favoured him; Harward translates Plato’s kai moi tuchai tines tôn tês poleôs pragmatôn toiaide parepeson as follows: ‘And I found myself confronted with the following occurrences in the public affairs of my own city’.

With the words kai moi tuchai tines toiaide parepeson ‘and so it happened to me’ Plato appears to be casting his eye to the catastrophic exercise of power by the Thirty, who ‘tried to send a friend of mine, the aged Socrates to carry off one of the citizens by force to execution, in order that, whether he wished it, or not, he might share the guilt of their conduct (324e-325a)’, for he uses a similar expression when he speaks of the democrats prosecuting Socrates: ‘But once more it happened (kata de tina tuchȇn au) that some of those in power brought my friend Socrates, whom I have mentioned, to trial before a court of law (ton hetairon hȇmȏn Sȏkratȇ touton dunasteuontes tines eisagousin eis diakastȇrion, 325b5-7).’ Plato’s ‘But once more it happened’ (kata de tina tuchȇn au) at 325b5-6 appears to be harking back to ‘and so it happened to me’ (kai moi tuchai tines toiaide parepeson) at 325c1-2).

Furthermore, Plato does not say that his relatives and acquaintances invited him to join them at once in what seemed to be a proper undertaking, as Nails renders his kai dê kai parekaloun euthus hôs epi prosêkonta pragmata me (324d2-3); he says ‘and they at once invited me to share in their doings, as something to which I had a claim’, as Harward translates 324d2-3; or ‘they invited me at once to join their administration, thinking it would be congenial’, as Bury translates it; prosêkon means ‘befitting [me]’, ‘appropriate [for me]’. Presumably, Plato was invited by his relatives and acquaintances among the fifty-one men – his uncle Glaucon was among the ten that policed the marketplace and performed other necessary duties in the Piraeus – because of his activities prior to their access to power. (See for this ‘Plato’s first two dialogues’ on my website.)

Plato does not say that he did not immediately accept the invitation to join the ‘administration of the fifty-one men’ because of his youth; he speaks of it as something that made him pause and keep on hold his desire to enter politics, as the last sentence in Nails’ quotation indicates: ‘so that I watched them eagerly to see what they would do’. And Plato goes on to say: ‘And seeing (kai horôn), as I did (dêpou), that in quite a short time they made the former government seem by comparison something precious as gold (tous andras en chronȏi oligȏi chruson apodeixantas tên emprosthen poiteian) – for among other things (ta te alla) they tried to send a friend of mine, the aged Socrates, whom I should scarcely scruple to describe as the most upright man of that day, with some other persons (kai philon andra emoi presbuteron Sôkratê, hon egô schedon ouk an aischunoimên eipôn dikaiotaton einai tôn tote, epi tina tôn politôn meth’ heterôn epempon) to carry off one of the citizens by force to execution (biai axonta hôs apothanoumenon), in order that (hina dê), whether he wished it, or not, he might share the guilt of their conduct (metechoi tôn pragmatôn autois, eite bouloito ê mê); but he would not obey them (ho d’ ouk epeitheto), risking all consequences (pan de parekinduneusen pathein) in preference to becoming a partner in their iniquitous deeds (prin anosiôn autois ergôn genesthai koinônos) – seeing all these things (ha dê panta kathorôn) and others of the same kind on a considerable scale (kai ei tin’ alla toiauta ou smikra), I disapproved of their proceedings (eduscherana te), and withdrew from any connection with the abuses of the time (kai emauton epanêgagon apo tôn tote kakôn). (324d6-325a5, tr. J. Harward)

That Plato thought of his time of youth before the oligarchic revolution as the time when he was ‘most strongly drawn to politics’ becomes clear from what he says about what happened when the Thirty were overthrown by the democrats: ‘And once more (palin de), though with more hesitation (braduteron men), I began to be moved by the desire to take part in public and political affairs (heilken de me homȏs hȇ peri to prattein ta koina kai politika epithumia, 325a7-b1, tr. J. Harward).’

Digression 2, the Meno

Meno opens the dialogue by asking Socrates ‘whether virtue can be taught (ara didakton hȇ aretȇ), or is acquired by practice (ȇ askȇton), or comes to mankind by nature (ȇ phusei paragignetai tois anthrȏpois), or in some other way (ȇ allȏi tini tropȏi)’. (70a1-4, tr. from Meno is by W.R.M. Lamb, if not indicated otherwise) Socrates responds with a salvo of irony: ‘Meno (Ō Menȏn), of old the Thessalians were famous and admired among the Greeks (pro tou men Thettaloi eudokimoi ȇsan en tois Hellȇsin kai ethaumazonto) for their riding (eph’ hippikȇi te) and their riches (kai ploutȏi), but now (nun de), I believe (hȏs emoi dokei), for wisdom also (kai epi sophiai) … For this you have to thank Gorgias (toutou de humin aitios esti Gorgias) … Now in this place (enthade de) we have a contrary state of things (to enantion periestȇken) … You have only to ask one of our people a question such as that (ei g’oun tina etheleis houtȏs eresthai tȏn enthade), and he will be sure to laugh (oudeis hostis ou gelasetai) and say (kai erei): “Stranger (Ō xene), you must think me a specially favoured mortal (kinduneuȏ soi makarios tis einai), to be able to tell whether virtue can be taught, or in what way it comes to one (aretȇn g’oun eite didakton eith’ hotȏi tropȏi paragignetai eidenai): so far am I from knowing whether it can be taught or not (egȏ de tosouton deȏ eite didakton eite mȇ didakton eidenai), that I actually do not even know what the thing itself, virtue, is at all (hȏst’ oude auto hoti pot’ esti to parapan aretȇ tunchanȏ eidȏs)”. And I myself am in the same case (Egȏ oun kai autos houtȏs echȏ); I share my townsmen’s poverty in this matter (sumpenomai tois politais toutou tou pragmatos, 71a5-7).’

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As can be seen, Plato opens the Meno by reasserting Socrates’ ignorance; but not only that, Socrates’ irony allows him to give expression to Socrates’ great influence on his fellow Athenians. But isn’t he overstating the case, it may be asked. More than ten years earlier, in the Birds (staged in 414 B.C.) Aristophanes’ two heroes, Pisthetairos and Euelpides, who could not stand living in Athens any more, built the city in the Clouds (Nephelokokkugia, 819), employing the birds. When the city was built, a herald arrived from Athens to bestow on Pisthetairos a crown of gold with which all people crown and honour him because of his great wisdom (stephanȏi se chrusȏi tȏide sophias houneka stephanousi kai timȏsin pantes hoi leȏi). Pisthetairos accepts (dechomai), and asks why the people are bestowing such a great honour on him (ti d’ houtȏs hoi leȏi timȏsi me;).  The herald tells him that he doesn’t know in what great honour he is held by people (ouk oisth’ hosȇn timȇn par’ anthrȏpois pherei), how many lovers of his city there are (hosous erastas tȇsde tȇs chȏras echei). Before the city in the clouds was built, all people Socratized (esȏkratoun) (1274-1282). How infectious was Socrates’ ignorance, viewed as irony, is shown in the preceding scene, where Pisthetairos interrogates Iris, the messenger of the gods: ‘By what gate have you entered the city walls, you wretched creature (kata poias pulas eisȇlthes es to teichos ȏ miarȏtatȇ;)?’ – Iris: ‘I don’t know, by Zeus, by which gate (ouk oida ma Di’ egȏge kata poias pulas).’ – Pisthetairos: ‘Have you heard how she ironizes [‘feigns ignorance’, Liddell & Scott] (ȇkousas autȇs hoion eirȏneuetai;) (1208-1211)

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Meno asks: ‘But is it true, Socrates. that you do not even know what virtue is (alla su, ȏ Sȏkrates, alȇthȏs oud’ ho ti aretȇ esti oistha)? Are we to return home [to Thessaly] with this report of you (alla tauta peri sou kai oikade apangelthȏmen;)?’ Socrates answers: ‘Not only this (Mȇ monon ge), my friend (ȏ hetaire), but also that I never yet came across anybody who did know (alla kai hoti oud’ allȏi pȏ enetuchon eidoti), in my opinion (hȏs emoi dokȏ).’ So Meno asks: ‘You did not meet Gorgias (Gorgiai ouk enetuches) when he was here (hote enthade ȇn;)?’ – Socrates: ‘I did (Egȏge).’ – Meno: ‘And you didn’t consider that he knew (Eita ouk edokei soi eidenai;)?’ (71b9-c7)

Socrates replies that he does not remember: ‘It may be that he did know (all’ isȏs ekeinos te oide), and that you know what he said (kai su ha ekeinos elege): remind me therefore (ananmnȇson oun me) how he expressed it (pȏs elegen) … for I expect you share his views (dokei gar dȇpou soi haper ekeinȏi).’ – Meno: ‘I do (Egȏge) – Socrates: ‘Then let us pass him over (ekeinon men toinun eȏmen), since in fact he is not present (epeidȇ kai apestin), and do you tell me, what is your account of virtue (su de autos, ti phȇis aretȇn einai).’ (71c9-d5)

Full of self-confidence, Meno replies: ‘Why, there is no difficulty (All’ ou chalepon), Socrates (ȏ Sȏkrates), in telling (eipein). First of all (prȏton men), if you take the virtue of a man (ei boulei andros aretȇn), it is easily stated (raidion) that a man’s virtue is this (hoti hautȇ estin andros aretȇ) – that he be competent (hikanon einai) to manage the affairs of his city (ta tȇs poleȏs prattein), and to manage them (kai prattonta) so as to benefit his friends (tous men philous eu poiein) and harm his enemies (tous d’ echthrous kakȏs), and to take care (kai auton eulabeisthai) to avoid suffering harm himself (mȇden toiouton pathein). Or take a woman’s virtue (ei de boulei gunaikos aretȇn): there is no difficulty in describing it (ou chalepon dielthein) as the duty of ordering the house well (hoti dei autȇn tȇn oikian eu oikein), looking after the property indoors (sȏizousan te ta endon), and obeying her husband (kai katȇkoon einai andros). And the child has another virtue (kai allȇ esti paidos aretȇ) – one for the female (kai thȇleias), and one for the male (kai arrenos); and there is another for elderly men (kai presbuterou andros) – one, if you like (ei men boulei), for freemen (eleutherou), and yet another for slaves (ei de boulei, doulou). And there are very many other virtues besides (kai allai pampollai aretai eisin), so that one cannot be at a loss to explain (hȏste ouk aporia eipein) what virtue is (aretȇs peri ho ti esti); for it is according to each activity (kath’ hekastȇn gar tȏn praxeȏn) and age (kai tȏn hȇlikiȏn) that every one of us, in whatever we do, has his virtue (pros hekaston ergon hekastȏi hȇmȏn hȇ aretȇ estin); and the same (hȏsautȏs de), I take it (oimai), Socrates (ȏ Sȏkrates), will hold also for vice (kai hȇ kakia).’ (71e1-72a5)

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At this point I had to decide; if I wanted to write this post as originally planned – I wanted to capture Socrates’ renewed ‘pursuit of Plato’ as it can be seen in the Meno, in the Euthyphro, both of which I view as written before Socrates’ trial and death, and in the Phaedo – I would have to erase all that I’ve so far written concerning the Meno, with the exception of Socrates’ statement concerning his ignorance, then say a few words about the theory of recollection with which he endeavours to transcend his ignorance, then a few words concerning two passages that are important for my dating of the Meno: 1. Socrates’ discussion with Anytus, the leading Athenian politician who in three or four year time will play the central role in sentencing Socrates to death, 2. Socrates’ closing appeal to Meno concerning Anytus. But the Meno deserves better, or better to say, I deserve better – and better deserves any reader interested in Plato who is going to read this post. What do I mean when I say that I deserve better? Haven’t I read the Meno countless times during the past fifty-five years? The way I am doing it now, shadowing the given translation with the original, is a new way of studying Plato. In the first place, it slows me down and thus gives me more mental space to try to understand Plato better. Secondly, for the sake of accompanying the given translation with the original in a meaningful way I must divide the English translation into as short parts as possible, which can be accompanied by the corresponding Greek text. It compels me to rethink anew every sentence of Plato.

And so, I’ve decided to devote this post to the Meno.

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Socrates: ‘I seem to be in a most lucky way (Pollȇi ge tini eutuchiai eoika kechrȇsthai), Meno (ȏ Menȏn); for in seeking one virtue (ei mian zȇtȏn aretȇn) I have discovered a whole swarm of virtues (smȇnos ti anȇurȇka aretȏn) there in your keeping (para soi keimenon). Now (atar), Meno (ȏ Menȏn), to follow this figure of a swarm (kata tautȇn tȇn eikona tȇn peri ta smȇnȇ), suppose I should ask you (ei mou eromenou) what is the real nature of the bee (melittȇs peri ousias ho ti pot’ estin), and you replied that there are many different kinds of bees (pollas kai pantodapas eleges autas einai), and I rejoined (ti an apekrinȏ moi, ei se ȇromȇn): “Do you say it is by being bees that they are of many and various kinds and differ from each other (Ara toutȏi phȇis pollas kai pantodapas einai kai diapherousas allȇlȏn, tȏi melittas einai;), or does their difference lie not in that (ȇ toutȏi men ouden diapherousin), but in something else (allȏi de tȏi) – for example (hoion), in their beauty (ȇ kallei) or size (ȇ megethei) or some other quality (ȇ allȏi tȏi tȏn toioutȏn:)?” Tell me (eipe), what would be your answer (ti an apekrinȏ) to this question (houtȏs erȏtȇtheis;)? – Meno: ‘Why, this (Tout’ egȏge) – that they do not differ (hoti ouden diapherousin), as bees (hȇi melittai eisin), the one from the other (hȇ hetera tȇs heteras).’ – Socrates: ‘And if I went on to say (Ei oun eipon meta tauta): Well now, there is this that I want you to tell me (Touto toinun moi auto eipe), Meno (ȏ Menȏn): what do you call the quality by which they do not differ, but are all alike (hȏi ouden diapherousin alla t’auton eisin hapasai, ti touto phȇis einai;)? You could find me an answer, I presume (eiches dȇpou an ti moi eipein;).’ – Meno: ‘I could (Egȏge).’ – Socrates: ‘And likewise also with the virtues (Houtȏ de kai peri tȏn aretȏn), however many and various they may be (k’an ei pollai kai pantodapai eisin), they all have one common character [form] whereby they are virtues (hen ge ti eidos t’auton hapasai echousin di’ ho eisin aretai), and on which one would of course be wise to keep an eye when one is giving a definitive answer to the question of what virtue really is (eis ho kalȏs pou echei apoblepsanta ton apokrinomenon tȏi erȏtȇsanti ekeino dȇlȏsai, ho tunchanei ousa aretȇ).’ (72a6-d1)

***

As can be seen, in the Meno we find Socrates firmly aware of his ignorance, but instead of recoiling into it, he makes it into a starting point in his ‘pursuit of Plato’ (touton diȏkȏ); for what else is he doing here, but employing and sharpening his and Meno’s ability ‘to look into one and the many’ (eis hen kai epi polla horan), as he characterizes the method of dialectic in the Phaedrus, indispensable ‘so that I may be able (hina hios te ȏ) both to speak (legein te) and to think (kai phronein)’. (266b)

Socrates’ contrasting the one form of virtue with the many virtues referred to by Meno is reminiscent of the early theory of forms, which he in his youth discussed with Zeno and Parmenides, and which the latter heavily criticised. But his search for the form of virtue in the Meno is immune to Parmenides’ objections, which sprung from the way in which the young Socrates derived the forms from many different things that had the same forms. [Parmenides: ‘I suppose you think that each form is one for some such reason as this (Oimai se ek tou toioude hen hekaston eidos oiesthai einai): when a number of things (hotan poll’ atta) seems to be to you large (megala soi doxȇi einai), there perhaps seems to be some one form that is the same (mia tis isȏs dokei idea hȇ autȇ einai) when you look over them all (epi panta idonti), whence you believe that the large is one (hothen hen to mega hȇgȇi einai, Parmenides 132a1-4).] When Socrates confirmed it, Parmenides asked: ‘What about the large itself (Ti d’ auto to mega) and the other thigs that are large (kai t’alla ta megala), if with your soul you should look at them all in the same way (ean hȏsautȏs tȇi psuchȇi epi panta idȇis), will not some one large again appear (ouchi hen ti au mega phaneitai), by which they all appear to be large (hȏi tauta panta megala phainesthai;)?’ – Socrates: ‘It seems so (Eoiken).’ – Parmenides: ‘So another form of largeness will have made its appearance (Allo ara eidos megethous anaphanȇsetai), that came to being alongside largeness itself (par’ auto te to megethos gegonos) and the things which have a share of it (kai ta metechonta autou); and over and above all those, again, a different one (kai epi toutois au pasin heteron), by which they will all be large (hȏi tauta panta megala estai). And then each of the forms will no longer be one for you (kai ouketi dȇ hen hekaston soi tȏn eidȏn estai), but unlimited in multitude (alla apeira to plȇthos).’ (132a6-b2)

In the Meno Socrates begins with the form of virtue, asking what is ‘this one form (hen ge ti eidos)’, which all virtues have (hapasai echousin), which is the same one (t’auton), thanks to which they all are virtues’ (di’ ho eisin aretai)’, which precludes any infinite multiplication of forms. Socrates’ ‘what is’ question leads to very different problems and difficulties, but there is a fundamental difference between these two sets of difficulties. For Parmenides characterised the objections he himself raised against Socrates’ theory of forms ‘and many more still in addition’ (kai eti alla pros toutois panu polla) as ‘appearing to be saying something significant’ (dokein te ti legein), so that ‘only a man of considerable natural gifts (kai andros panu men euphuous) will be able to understand (tou dunȇsomenou mathein) that there is a certain kind of each thing (hȏs esti genos ti hekastou), a nature and reality alone by itself (kai ousia autȇ kath’ hautȇn), and it will take a man more remarkable still (eti de thaumastoterou) to discover it (tou heurȇsontos) and be able to instruct someone else who has examined all these things with sufficient care (kai allon dunȇsomenou didaxai tauta panta hikanȏs dieukrinȇsamenon).’ (135a-b) It is in this direction that Socrates is aiming with his ‘what is the form of virtue’ question in the Meno.

Lastly, Socrates’ focussing his eye on the form of virtue throughout the whole of the Meno gives us a good example of what induced the young Plato to conceive the Forms face to face with Socrates’ fixation of his mind on moral terms, as Aristotle speaks about it in his Metaphysics (987a29-b10).

***

After a few more unsatisfactory attempts at defining virtue Socrates asks Meno to start again from the beginning and tell him what he and Gorgias say that virtue is. The latter replies: ‘Socrates (Ō Sȏkrates), I used to be told (ȇkouon men egȏge), before I began to meet you (prin kai sungenesthai soi), that yours was just a case of being in doubt yourself (hoti su ouden allo ȇ autos te aporeis) and making others to doubt also (kai tous allous poieis aporein, 79e7-80a2) … And yet on countless occasions I have made abundant speeches (kaitoi muriakis ge peri aretȇs pampollous logous eirȇka) to various people (kai pros pollous) – and very good speeches they were (kai panu eu), so I thought (hȏs ge emautȏi edokoun) – but now I cannot say one word as to what it is (nun de oud’ hoti estin to parapan echȏ eipein, 80b2-4).’ In response Socrates clarifies his position: ‘It is from being in more doubt than anyone else (pantos mallon egȏ aporȏn) that I cause doubt in others (kai tous allous poiȏ aporein). So now, for my part, I do not know what virtue is (kai nun peri aretȇs ho estin egȏ men ouk oida), whilst you (su mentoi), though perhaps you may have known (isȏs proteron men ȇidȇstha) before you came in touch with me (prin emou hapsasthai), are now as good as ignorant of it also (nun mentoi homoios ei ouk eidoti). But none the less I am willing to join you in examining it and inquiring into its nature (homȏs de ethelȏ meta sou skepsasthai kai suzȇtȇsai ho ti pote estin).’ – Meno ripostes: ‘And how will you enquire (Kai tina tropon zȇtȇseis), Socrates (ȏ Sȏkrates), into that which you do not know at all what it is (touto ho mȇ oistha to parapan ho ti estin;)? What will you put forth as the subject of enquiry (poion gar hȏn ouk oistha prothemenos zȇtȇseis;)? And if, at the best, you hit upon it (ȇ ei kai hoti malista entuchois autȏi), how will you ever know (pȏs eisȇi) that this is the thing (hoti touto estin) which you did not know (ho su ouk ȇidȇstha;)?’ (80c9-d8; In translating Meno’s last entry I drew on Lamb’s and Jowett’s translations.)

Socrates responds to Meno’s ‘captious argument’ (eristikos logos, 80e2) by unfolding the theory of recollection: ‘Seeing that the soul is immortal (Hate oun hȇ psuchȇ athanatos ousa) and has been born many times (kai pollakis gegonuia), and has beheld all things both in this world (kai heȏrakuia kai ta enthade) and in the other realms (kai ta en Haidou kai panta chrȇmata), she has acquired knowledge of all and everything (ouk estin hoti ou memathȇken); so that it is no wander (hȏste ouden thaumaston) that she should be able to recollect all that she knew before about virtue and other things (kai peri aretȇs kai peri allȏn hoion t’ einai autȇn anamnȇsthȇnai, ha ge kai proteron ȇpistato). For as all nature is akin (hate gar tȇs phuseȏs hapases sungenous ousȇs), and the soul has learned all things (kai memathȇkuias tȇs psuchȇs hapanta), there is no reason why we should not (ouden kȏluei), by remembering but one single thing (hen monon anamnȇsthenta) – an act which men call learning (ha dȇ mathȇsin kalousin anthrȏpoi) – discover everything else (t’alla panta auton aneurein), if we have courage (ean tis andreios ȇi) and faint not in the search (kai mȇ apokamnȇi zȇtȏn); since, it would seem, research and learning are wholly recollection (to gar zȇtein ara kai to manthanein anamnȇsis holon estin) … Putting my trust in its truth (hȏi egȏ pisteuȏn alȇthei einai), I am ready to enquire with you (ethelȏ meta sou zȇtein) into the nature of virtue (aretȇ ho ti estin).’ (81c5-e2)

Meno wants Socrates ‘to prove’ (endeixai, 82a6) it to him, that this is so. So Socrates asks him to choose one of his attendants: ‘whichever one you please (hena, hontina boulei), so that he may serve for my demonstration (hina en toutȏi soi endeixomai, 82b1-2)’. Socrates draws a square in the sand and asks the boy: ‘Tell me (Eipe dȇ moi), boy (ȏ pai), do you know (gignȏskeis) that a square figure is like this (tetragȏnon chȏrion hoti toiouton estin;)?’ – Boy: ‘I do (Egȏge). – Socrates: ‘Now, a square figure has these lines, four in number, all equal (Estin oun tetragȏnon chȏrion isas echon tas grammas tautas pasas, tettaras ousas;)?’ – Boy: ‘Certainly (Panu ge).’ – Socrates: ‘And these, drawn through the middle, are equal too, are they not (Ou kai tautasi tas dia mesou estin isas echon;)?’ – Boy: ‘Yes (Nai).’ (82b9-c3)

***

Originally I intended to say: ‘Socrates proves the theory of recollections by questioning a boy concerning a square. The task he gives him is to find the line that is the side of a square double in size. At the end of his questioning the boy points to the line in question. I doubt that anybody will be persuaded by Socrates’ proof; the important thing is that Meno in the end appears to be persuaded by it.’ For this was the view I had held ever since I read the Meno for the first time; I always wondered how could Plato ever have believed that Socrates’ questioning of the boy could be taken as a proof of the theory of recollection. But in the end I realised that I must take resort to my current method of following the English translation with the original, and see where it takes me. I skipped the first set of questions and concentrated on questions that formulate the given task and then those that lead to its solution. But as I was doing so, I began to be aware that I was missing something essential. I therefore turned back to Socrates’ first questions in which he confronts the boy with a ‘square’ he draws in the sand. I put the ‘square’ in quotation marks, for what Socrates can draw in the sand is anything but a square, the sides of the figure drawn are anything but equal. In Socrates’ view, if the boy answers his questions concerning the square, he must be recollecting the square, for there is no square, properly understood, to be seen by our eyes. Compare what Socrates says in the Phaedo concerning ‘equality itself’ (auto to ison, 74a11-12) and the ‘equal’ things we can see around us, such as logs (xula) and stones (lithous). Since nothing around us can be truly equal, Socrates argues, we must have been born with the notion of ‘equality itself’: ‘It must, surely, have been before we began to see and hear and use the other senses (Pro tou ara arxasthai hȇmas horan kai akouein kai t’alla aisthanesthai) that we got knowledge of the equal itself, of what it is (tuchein edei pou eilȇphotas epistȇmȇn autou tou isou ho ti estin), if we were going to refer the equals from our sense-perceptions to it (ei emellomen ta ek tȏn aisthȇseȏn isa ekeise anoisein, 75b4-7, tr. D. Gallop).’

In the course of Socrates’ questioning, the boy realises that the square is formed by four equal lines, and that it has equal lines drawn through the middle of those lines, and finally, that the lines that go from one corner of the square to the other, the diagonals, are equal to each other. With every answer to every question, the boy is progressing in his recollecting, as Socrates understood it.

***

Socrates: ‘And a figure of this sort may be (Oukoun an eiȇ toiouton chȏrion) larger (kai meizon) or smaller (kai elatton)?’ – Boy: ‘To be sure (Panu ge).’ – Socrates: ‘Now if this side were two feet (Ei oun eiȇ hautȇ hȇ pleura duoin podoin) and that also two (kai hautȇ duoin), how many feet would the whole be (posȏn an eiȇ podȏn to holon;)?’ (82c3-6)

At this point the boy must have looked unsure of what Socrates meant, for the latter said: ‘Or let me put it thus (Hȏde de skopei): if one way it were two feet (ei ȇn tautȇi duoin podoin), and only one foot the other (tautȇi de henos podos monon), of course the space would be two feet taken once (allo ti hapax an ȇn duoin podoin to chȏrion;)?’ – Boy: ‘Yes (Nai).’ (82c6-d1)

When the Boy understood how the two feet figure came about, Socrates could continue: ‘But as it is two feet also on that side (Epeidȇ de duoin podoin kai tautȇi), it must be twice two feet (allo ti ȇ dis duoin podoin gignetai;)?’ – Boy: ‘It is (Gignetai).’ – Socrates: ‘Then the space is twice two feet (Duoin ara dis gignetai podȏn;)?’ – Boy: ‘Yes (Nai).’ – Socrates: ‘Well, how many are twice two feet (Posoi oun eisin hoi duo dis podes;)? Count and tell me (logisamenos eipe)’ – Boy: ‘Four (Tettares), Socrates (ȏ Sȏkrates)’ – Socrates: ‘And might there not be another figure twice the size of this (Oukoun genoit’ an toutou tou chȏriou heteron diplasion), but of the same sort (toiouton de), with all sides equal (isas echon pasas tas grammas) like this one (hȏsper touto;)?’ – Boy: ‘Yes (Nai).’ – Socrates: ‘Then how many feet will it be (Posȏn oun estai podȏn;)?’ – Boy: ‘Eight (Oktȏ).’ – Socrates: ‘Come now (Phere dȇ), try and tell me (peirȏ moi eipein) how long will each side of that figure be (pȇlikȇ tis estai ekeinou hȇ grammȇ hekastȇ). The side of this one is two feet long (hȇ men gar toude duoin podoin). What will be the side of the other (ti de hȇ ekeinou), which is double in size (tou diplasiou;)?’ – Boy: ‘Clearly (Dȇlon dȇ), Socrates (ȏ Sȏkrates), double (hoti diplasia).’ (82d1-e3)

At this point Socrates turns to Meno: ‘Do you observe (Horais), Meno (ȏ Menȏn), that I am not teaching the boy anything (hȏs egȏ touton ou didaskȏ), but merely asking him each time (all’ erȏtȏ panta;)? And now he supposes that he knows (kai nun houtos oietai eidenai) about the line required to make a figure of eight square feet (hopoia estin aph’ hȇs to oktȏpoun chȏrion genȇsetai); or do you not think he does (ȇ ou dokei soi;)?’ – Meno: ‘I do (Emoige).’ – Socrates: ‘Well, does he know (Oiden oun;)?’ – Meno: ‘Certainly not (Ou dȇta).’ – Socrates: ‘He just supposes it (Oietai de ge), from the double size required (apo tȇs diplasias;)?’ – Meno: ‘Yes (Nai).’ – Socrates: ‘Now watch his progress in recollecting (Theȏ dȇ auton anamimnȇiskomenon ephexȇs).’ (82e4-13)

Socrates turns to the boy and asks: ‘Do you say we get the double space from the double line (apo tȇs diplasias grammȇs phȇis to diplasion chȏrion gignesthai;)? The space I speak of is not long one way and short the other (toionde legȏ, mȇ tautȇi men makron, tȇi de brachu), but must be equal each way like this one (alla ison pantachȇi estȏ hȏsper touti), while being double its size (diplasion de toutou) – eight square feet (oktȏpoun). Now see (all’ hora) If you still think we get this from a double length of line (ei eti soi apo tȇs diplaias dokei esesthai). – Boy: ‘’I do (Emoige).’ (82e14-83a4)?’

Since the boy is still convinced that it is so, Socrates draws in the send a square the side of which is four feet. The boy can see that the size of such a square is sixteen feet, four times bigger than the original square; but we wanted the square that is twice as big. Socrates asks: ‘Then the line on the side of the eight-foot square (Dei ara tȇn tou oktȏpodos chȏriou grammȇn) should be more than this of two feet (meizȏ men einai tautȇs tȇs dipodos), and less than the other of four (elattȏ de tȇs tetrapodos;)?’ – Boy: ‘It should (Dei).’ – Socrates: ‘Try and tell me (Peirȏ dȇ legein) how much you would say it is (pȇlikȇn tina phȇis autȇn einai)?’ – Boy: ‘Three feet (Tripoda).’ (83d4-e2)

Socrates therefore draws the square the side of which is three feet. The boy realises that the size of the square will be nine feet; the side of eight-foot square must be different. Socrates asks: ‘But from what line shall we get it (All’ apo poias;)? Try and tell us exactly (peirȏ hȇmin eipein akribȏs); and if you would rather not reckon it out (kai ei mȇ boulei arithmein), just show what line it is (alla deixon apo poias).’ – Boy: ‘Well, on my word (Alla ma ton Dia), Socrates (ȏ Sȏkrates), I for one (egȏge) do not know (ouk oida).’ (83e11-84a2)

At this point Socrates turns again to Meno: ‘There now, Meno, do you observe (Ennoeis au, ȏ Menȏn) what progress he has already made in his recollection (hou estin ȇdȇ badizȏn hode tou anamimnȇiskesthai)? At first he did not know (hoti to men prȏton ȇidei men ou) what is the line that forms the figure of eight feet (hȇtis estin hȇ tou oktȏpodos chȏriou grammȇ), and he does not know even now (hȏsper oude nun pȏ oiden): but at any rate he thought he knew then (all’ oun ȏieto g’ autȇn tote eidenai), and confidently answered (kai tharraleȏs apekrineto) as though he knew (hȏs eidȏs), and was aware of no difficulty (kai ouch hȇgeito aporein); whereas now he feels the difficulty he is in (nun de hȇgeitai aporein ȇdȇ), and besides not knowing (kai hȏsper ouk oiden) does not think he knows (oud’ oietai eidenai, 84a3-b1) … now he will push on in the search gladly (nun men gar kai zȇtȇseien hȇdeȏs), as lacking knowledge (ouk eidȏs, 84b10-11) … Now do you imagine (Oiei oun) he would have attempted to inquire (an auton proteron epicheirȇsai zȇtein) or learn (ȇ manthanein) what he thought he knew (touto ho ȏieto eidenai), when he did not know it (ouk eidȏs), until he had been reduced to the perplexity (prin eis aporian katepesen) of realising that he did not know (hȇgȇsamenos mȇ eidenai), and had craving to know (kai epothȇsen to eidenai; 84c4-6)? … Now you should note how (Skepsai dȇ), as a result of this perplexity (ek tautȇs tȇs aporias), he will go on and discover something by joint enquiry with me (ho ti kai aneurȇsei met’ emou), while I merely ask questions (ouden all’ ȇ erȏtȏntos emou) and do not teach him (kai ou didaskontos, 84c10-d1).’

Socrates draws in the sand a four-foot square, adds another four-foot square, then another, then he fills the corner with the fourth four-foot square, then he asks how many times larger is the whole square than the original four-foot square. The boy answers ‘Four times’ (Tetraplasion).’ – Socrates: ‘But it was to have been only twice as large (Edei de diplasion genesthai), don’t you remember (ȇ ou memnȇsai;)? – Boy: ‘To be sure (Panu ge).’ – Socrates; ‘And does this line (Oukoun estin hautȇ grammȇ), drawn from corner to corner (ek gȏnias eis gȏnian teinousa), cut in two (temnousa dicha) each of these spaces (hekaston toutȏn tȏn chȏriȏn;) [i.e. each of the four-foot squares out of which the sixteen-foot square is constructed]?’ – Boy: ‘Yes (Nai).’ – Socrates: ‘And have we here four equal lines (Oukoun tettares hautai gignontai grammai isai) containing this space (periechousai touto to chȏrion;)?’ – Boy: ‘We have (Gignontai gar).’ – Socrates: ‘Now consider (Skopei dȇ), how large this space is (pȇlikon ti estin touto to chȏrion)?’ – Boy: ‘I do not understand (Ou manthanȏ).’ – Socrates: ‘Has not each of the inside lines cut off half of each of these spaces? (Ouchi tettarȏn ontȏn toutȏn hȇmisu hekastou hekastȇ grammȇ apotetmȇken entos; ȇ ou;)’ – Boy: ‘Yes (Nai).’ – Socrates: ‘And how many spaces of that size are there in this part (Posa oun tȇlikauta en toutȏi enestin;)?’ – Boy: ‘Four (Tettara).’ – Socrates: ‘And how many in this (Posa de en tȏide;)?’ – Boy: ‘Two (Duo).’ – Socrates: ‘And four is how many times two (Ta de tettara toin duoin ti estin;)?’ – Boy: ‘Twice (Diplasia).’ – Socrates: ‘And how many feet is this space (Tode oun posapoun gignetai;)?’ – Boy: ‘Eight feet’ (Oktȏpoun)’ – Socrates: ‘From what line do we get this figure (Apo poias grammȇs;)?’ – Boy: ‘From this (Apo tautȇs).’ – Socrates: ‘From the line drawn from corner to corner across the four-foot figure (Apo tȇs ek gȏnias eis gȏnian tienousȇs tou tetrapodos;)?’ – Boy: ‘Yes (Nai).’ – Socrates: ‘The professors call it the diagonal (Kalousin de ge tautȇn diametron hoi sophistai): so if the diagonal is its name (hȏst’ ei tautȇi diametros onoma), then according to you, Meno’s boy, the double space is the square of the diagonal (apo tȇs diametrou an, hȏs su phȇis, ȏ pai Menȏnos, gignoit’ an to diplasion chȏrion).’ – Boy: ‘Yes, certainly it is (Panu men oun), Socrates (ȏ Sȏkrates).’ (84e2-85b7)

Having accomplished the proof, Socrates turns to Meno: ‘What do you think (Ti soi dokei;)? Was there any opinion that he did not give as an answer of his own thought (estin hȇntina doxan ouch hautou houtos apekrinato;)?’ – Meno: ‘No (Ouk), they were all his own (all’ heautou).’ – Socrates: ‘But you see (Kai mȇn), he did not know (ouk ȇidei ge), as we were saying (hȏs ephamen) a while since (oligon proteron).’ – Meno: ‘That is true (Alȇthȇ legeis).’ – Socrates: ‘Yet he had in him these opinions (Enȇsan de ge autȏi hautai hai doxai), had he not (ȇ ou;)?’ – Meno: ‘Yes (Nai).‘ – Socrates: ‘So that he who does not know about any matters, whatever they be (Tȏi ouk eidoti ara peri hȏn an mȇ eidȇi), may have true opinions on such matters (eneisin alȇtheis doxai), about which he knows nothing (peri toutȏn hȏn ouk oiden;)?’ – Meno: ‘Apparently (Phainetai).’ – Socrates: ‘And at this moment (Kai nun men ge) those opinions have just been stirred up in him, like a dream (autȏi hȏsper onar arti anakakinȇntai hai doxai hautai); but if he were repeatedly asked the same questions (ei de auton tis anerȇsetai pollakis ta auta tauta) in a variety of forms (kai pollachȇi), you know (oisth’) he will have in the end as exact an understanding of them as anyone (hoti teleutȏn oudenos hȇtton akribȏs epistȇsetai peri toutȏn).’ (85b8-d1)

***

If we want to get an inkling of what Socrates may mean by ‘asking the boy about the same things many times and in a variety of forms’, we may go to the Phaedo where Socrates is demonstrating the theory of recollection to Simmias, discussing the notion of ‘equality itself’ (auto to ison, 74a10) in the relation to ‘equal things’ that we can perceive by our senses; it takes him more than a Stephanus page to accomplish – from 74a to 75c.

***

Meno’s ‘Apparently’ and his ‘So it seems’ express uncertainty, so Socrates goes on to discuss the boy’s performance: ‘Or has someone taught him geometry (ȇ dedidache tis auton geȏmetrein;)? You see, he can do the same with all geometry (houtos gar poiȇsei peri pasȇs tȇs geȏmetrias t’auta tauta) and every branch of knowledge (kai tȏn allȏn mathȇmatȏn hapantȏn). Now, can anyone have taught him all this (estin oun hostis touton panta dedidache;)? You ought surely to know (dikaios gar pou ei eidenai), especially as he was born and bred in your house (allȏs te epeidȇ en tȇi sȇi oikiai gegone kai tethraptai).’ – Meno: ‘Well, I know that no one has ever taught him (All’ oida egȏge hoti oudeis pȏpote edidaxen).’ – Socrates: ‘And has he these opinions (Echei de tautas tas doxas), or has he not (ȇ ouchi;)?’ – Meno: ‘He must have them (Anankȇ), Socrates (ȏ Sȏkrates), evidently (phainetai).’ (85d13-e8)

***

Socrates’ subjecting the boy to his questioning and his subsequent discussion of the boy’s performance with Meno has an implication for the dating of the dialogue. For it corresponds to the positive attitude towards slaves in the Athenian democracy, which marked the closing years of the Peloponnesian war; this, incidentally, was the time of Plato’s most acute desire to become active in the Athenian politics (See his Seventh Letter 34b-35b).

This attitude comes to the view most emphatically in Aristophanes’ Frogs produced during the Lenaean festival, at the commencement of the year 405 B.C. B.B. Rogers says in the ‘Introduction’ to his edition of the comedy: ‘The play was acted about six months after the great naval victory of Arginusae … The victory of Arginusae was the result of an almost unexampled effort on the part of the Athenian people … The very slaves had been induced to join by the promise of freedom and, what was even more than freedom, the privileges of Athenian citizenship … The wholesale conversion of loyal slaves into free Athenian citizens, which met with the warmest approval of Aristophanes, readily lent itself to comic humour; and throughout the play, whenever he alludes to the battle of Arginusae, this incident is sure to crop up.’ (The Frogs of Aritophanes, 2^nd edition. 1919, pp. ix-xi.) This positive view of the slaves left its strong mark in the Phaedran Palinode, where Socrates maintains that all human souls saw the Forms prior to entering the human body (249b5-6).

The Meno could not have been written in those days; Debora Nails sets its dramatic date in 402 B.C.: ‘The restoration of the democracy in 403 marks the earliest possible date since Anytus holds office (90b). Meno is visiting Athens from Thessaly, and staying with Anytus before leaving in March of 401 on the campaign against Artaxerxes led by Cyrus and reported in Xenophon’s Anabasis.’ (The People of Plato, p. 38-19) The Meno testifies to it that the positive attitude towards the slaves carried on into the days of the restored democracy. Socrates’ questioning of the slave boy and his discussion about it with Meno indicates that the period, in which the Meno took place dramatically, was also the time in which Plato wrote it; it was the time of his revived hopes of getting involved in the Athenian politics (the Seventh Letter, loc. cit.).

We may presume that the Meno attitude to the slaves died in Plato’s mind as Socrates was put to death by the democrats.

Plato’s autobiographic reflections in the Seventh Letter indicate that after the death of Socrates he was in his political thinking marching on the road towards the Republic. Concerning the decade that followed Socrates’ trial and death he writes: ‘But it so happened (kata de tina tuchȇn au) that some men in power brought my associate Socrates before the courts (ton hetairon hȇmȏn Sȏkratȇ touton dunasteuontes tines eisagousin eis dikastȇrion) … and the court condemned (hoi de katepsȇphisanto) and put to death (kai apekteinan) the man who, when the party now prevailing was outlawed and in exile, had refused to participate in the wrongful arrest of one of its own adherents (ton tote tȇs anosiou agȏgȇs ouk ethelȇsanta metaschein peri hena tȏn tote pheugontȏn philȏn, hote pheugontes edustuchȇsan autoi). So when I saw this (skopounti dȇ moi tauta te) and the kind of men (kai tous anthrȏpous) who were active in politics (tous prattontas ta politika) and the principles on which things were manged (kai tous nomous ge kai ethȇ), I concluded that it was difficult to take part in public life and retain one’s integrity, and this feeling became the stronger the more I observed and the older I became (hosȏi mallon dieskopoun hȇlikias te eis to prosthe proubainon, tosoutȏi chalepȏteron ephaineto orthȏs einai moi ta politika dioikein) … so that I (hȏste me), who began by being full of enthusiasm for a political career (to prȏton pollȇs meston onta hormȇs epi to pratteinta koina), ended by growing dizzy at the spectacle of universal confusion (bleponta eis tauta kai pheromena horȏnta pantȇi pantȏs, teleutȏnta ilingian). I did not cease to consider (kai tou men skopein mȇ apostȇnai) how an improvement might be effected in this particular situation (pȇi pote ameinon an gignoito peri auta tauta) and in politics in general (kai dȇ kai peri pasan tȇn politeian), and I remained on the watch for the right moment of action (tou de prattein au perimenein aei kairous), but finally I came to the conclusion (teleutȏnta de noȇsai) … that the troubles of mankind will never cease (kakȏn oun ou lȇxein ta anthrȏpina genȇ) until either true and genuine philosophers attain political power (prin an ȇ to tȏn philosophountȏn orthȏs ge kai alȇthȏs genos eis archas elthȇi tas politikas) or the rulers of states (ȇ to tȏn dunasteuontȏn en tais polesin) by some dispensation of providence (ek tinos moiras theias) become genuine philosophers (ontȏs philosophȇsȇi).’ This thought became the corner stone of the Republic (see Republic V, 473d).

In Republic VIII, describing the progressive ruin of democracy by its overindulgence in freedom, he says: ‘The last extreme (To de ge eschaton) of popular liberty (tȇs eleutherias tou plȇthous) is when the slave bought with money, whether male or female (hotan dȇ hoi eȏnȇmenoi kai hai eȏnȇmenai), is just as free as his or her purchaser (mȇden hȇtton eleutheroi ȏsi tȏn priamenȏn, 563b4-7, tr. Jowett).’ In Laws VI he says: ‘We should certainly punish slaves if they deserve it (kolazein ge mȇn en dikȇi doulous dei), and not to spoil them by simply giving them a warning, as we would free men (kai mȇ nouthetountas hȏs eleutherous thruptesthai poiein). Virtually everything you say to a slave should be an order (tȇn de oiketou prosrȇsin chrȇ schedon epitaxin pasan gignesthai, 777e4-778a1, tr. T.J. Saunders).’ There is no place for the Meno attitude towards the slaves in Plato’s Republic and in his Laws.

***

Socrates: ‘And if the truth of all things that are is always in our soul (Oukoun ei aei hȇ alȇtheia hȇmin tȏn ontȏn estin en tȇi psuchȇi), then the soul must be immortal (athanatos an hȇ psuchȇ eiȇ); so that you should take heart (hȏste tharrounta chrȇ) and, whatever you do not happen to know at present (ho mȇ tunchaneis epistamenos nun) – that is (touto d’ estin), what you do not remember (ho mȇ memnȇmenos) – you must endeavour to search out (epicheirein zȇtein) and recollect (kai anamimnȇiskesthai;)?’ – Meno: ‘What you say commends itself to me (Eu moi dokeis legein), Socrates (ȏ Sȏkrates), I know not how (ouk oid’ hopȏs).’ – Socrates: ‘And so it does to me (Kai gar egȏ emoi), Meno (ȏ Menȏn). Most of the points I have made in support of my argument are not such as I can confidently assert (kai ta men ge alla ouk an panu huper tou logou diischurisaimȇn); but that the belief in the duty of inquiring (hoti d’ oiomenoi dein zȇtein) after what we do not know (ha mȇ tis oiden) will make us better (beltious an eimen) and braver (kai andrikȏteroi) and less helpless (kai hȇtton argoi) than the notion (ȇ ei oioimetha) that there is not even a possibility of discovering what we do not know (ha mȇ epistametha mȇde dunaton einai heurein), nor any duty of inquiring after it (mȇde dein zȇtein) – this is a point for which (peri toutou) I am determined to do battle (panu an diamachoimȇn), so far as I am able (ei hoios te eiȇn), both in word (kai logȏi) and deed (kai ergȏi).’ – Meno: ‘There also I consider that you speak aright (Kai touto men ge dokeis moi eu legein), Socrates (ȏ Sȏkrates).’ (86b1-c3)

Having thus agreed with each other ‘as to the duty of enquiring into what one does not know’ (hoti zȇtȇteon peri hou mȇ tis oiden), Socrates suggests that they should attempt ‘a joint inquiry into the nature of virtue (koinȇi zȇtein ti pot’ estin aretȇ, 86c4-6). Meno agrees that they should make a joint inquiry, but would best of all examine that question concerning virtue, which he asked at first, ‘whether in pursuing it we are to regard it as a thing to be taught’ (poteron hȏs didaktȏi onti autȏi dei epicheirein, 86c9-d1). Socrates points out that if it is to be taught, it must be knowledge, ‘so we have to consider whether virtue is knowledge (dei skepsasthai poteron estin epistȇmȇ hȇ aretȇ), or of another kind than knowledge’ (ȇ alloion epistȇmȇs, 87c11-12). Since they both hold ‘that virtue is good’ (agathon einai tȇn aretȇn, 87d2-3), ‘then (oukoun) if there is some good apart and separable from knowledge (ei men ti estin agathon kai allo chȏrizomenon epistȇmȇs), it may be that virtue is not a kind of knowledge (tach’ an eiȇ aretȇ ouk epistȇmȇ tis); but if there is nothing good (ei de mȇden estin agathon) that is not embraced by knowledge (ho ouk epistȇmȇ periechei), our suspicion that virtue is a kind of knowledge (epistȇmȇn an tin’ auto hupopteuontes einai) would be well founded (orthȏs hupopteuoimen, 87d4-8)’.

Socrates and Meno agree that ‘it is by virtue that we are good’ (aretȇi g’ semen agathoi), if good (ei de agathoi), profitable (ȏphelimoi ‘useful’, ‘doing good’), for everything that is good is profitable (panta gar t’agatha ȏphelima). Socrates asks: ‘So virtue is profitable (Kai hȇ aretȇ ȏphelimon estin;)’? – Meno: ‘That must follow (Anankȇ) from what has been admitted (ek tȏn hȏmologȇmenȏn).’ (87d8-e4) Socrates goes on to argue that everything that is guided by knowledge is profitable (ȏphelei), what is not guided by knowledge is harmful (blaptei, 88b3): ‘And so by this account (kai toutȏi tȏi logȏi) the profitable will be wisdom (phronȇsis an eiȇ to ȏphelimon), and virtue, we say, is profitable (phamen de tȇn aretȇn ȏphelimon einai;)?’ – Meno: ‘Certainly (Panu ge).’ – Socrates: ‘Hence we conclude that virtue is either wholly or partly wisdom (Phronȇsin ara phamen aretȇn einai, ȇtoi sumpasan ȇ meros ti;)?’ – ‘Meno: ‘It sems to me that your statement, Socrates, is excellent (Dokei moi kalȏs legesthai, ȏ Sȏkrates, ta legomena).’ (89a1-5)

In view of all that has been said, Socrates asks ‘whether it is by education (ara mathȇsei) that the good become good (hoi agathoi agathoi gignontai)’. Meno replies: ‘We must now conclude, I think, that it is (Dokei moi ȇdȇ anankaion einai); and plainly (kai dȇlon), Socrates (ȏ Sȏkrates), on our hypothesis (kata tȇn hupothesin) that virtue is knowledge (eiper epistȇmȇ estin aretȇ), it must be taught (hoti didakton estin).’ … – Socrates: ‘If anything at all, not merely virtue, is teachable (ei estin didakton hotioun pragma, mȇ monon aretȇ), must not there be teachers and learners of it (ouk anankaion autou kai didaskalous kai mathȇtas einai;)?’ – Meno: ‘I think so (Emoige dokei).’ – Socrates: ‘Then also conversely (Oukoun t’ounantion au), if a thing had neither teachers nor learners (hou mȇte didaskaloi mȇte mathȇtai eien), we should be right in surmising (kalȏs an auto eikazontes eikazoimen) that it could not be taught (mȇ didakton einai;)?’ – Meno: ‘That is so (Esti tauta): but do you think there are no teachers of virtue (all’ aretȇs didaskaloi ou dokousi soi einai;)?’ (89d6-e5)

***

The discussion of this question is going to be lengthy, and in the end the answer to it will be left open. As Socrates was opening the discussion, Anytus sat beside them and was invited by the former to join them. The discussion involving Anytus should prompt any student of Plato to ask, whether Plato could have written it after Anytus became involved in the trial of Socrates. And when we ask this question, we must have in front of our minds what Socrates says to the jury concerning Anytus: ‘who said that either I ought not to have been brought to trial at all (hos ephȇ ȇ tȇn archȇn ou dein eme deuro eiselthein), or since I was brought to trial (ȇ, epeidȇ eisȇlthon) I must certainly be put to death (ouch hoion t’ einai to mȇ apokteinai me); adding that if I were acquitted (legȏn pros humas hȏs ei diapheuxoimȇn), your sons would all be utterly ruined by practicing what I teach (ȇdȇ humȏn hoi hueis epitȇdeuontes ha Sȏkratȇs didaskei pantes pantapasi diaphtharȇsontai)’ (Apology 29c1-5, tr. H.N. Fowler)

***

Socrates: ‘I must say I have often inquired (Pollakis g’oun zȇtȏn) whether there were any teachers of virtue (ei tines eien autȇs didaskaloi), but for all my pains I cannot find one (panta poiȏn ou dunamai heurein). And yet many have shared the search with me (kaitoi meta pollȏn ge zȇtȏ), and particularly those persons (kai toutȏn malista) whom I regard (hous an oiȏmai) best qualified for the task (empeirotatous tou pragmatos). But look, Meno: here, at the very moment when he was wanted, we have Anytus sitting down beside us (kai dȇ kai nun, ȏ Menȏn, eis kalon hȇmin Anutos hode parekathezeto), to take his share in our quest (hȏi metadȏmen tȇs zȇtȇseȏs). And we may well ask his assistance (eikotȏs d’an metadoimen); for Anytus, in the first place (Anutos gar hode prȏton men), is a son of a wise and wealthy father (esti patros plousiou te kai sophou), Anthemion (Anthemiȏnos), who became rich (hos egeneto plousios) not by a fluke (ouk apo tou automatou) or a gift (oude dontos tinos) – like that man the other day, Ismenias the Theban [Lamb notes: ‘A democratic leader of Thebes who assisted Anytus and the other exiled Athenian democrats in 403 B.C., shortly before their return to Athens and the supposed time of this dialogue, about 402 B.C.’], who has come into the fortune of a Polycrates [Lamb: ‘Tyrant of Samos about 530 B.C.] (hȏsper ho nun neȏsti eilȇphȏs ta Polukratous chrȇmata Ismȇnias ho Thȇbaios) – but as the product of his own skill (alla tȇi hautou sophiai [‘wisdom’] ktȇsamenos) and industry [Lamb: ‘As a tanner.’] (kai epimeleiai); and secondly (epeita), he has the name of being in general a well-conducted, mannerly person, not insolent towards his fellow citizens or arrogant and annoying (kai ta alla ouch huperȇphanos dokȏn einai politȇs oud ongkȏdes te kai epachthȇs, alla kosmios kai eustalȇs anȇr); and further (epeita), he gave his son a good upbringing (touton eu ethrepse) and education (kai epaideusen), as the Athenian people think (hȏs dokei Athȇnaiȏn tȏi plȇthei), for they choose him for the highest offices (hairountai g’oun auton epi tas megistas archas). This is a sort of man to whom one may look for help in the inquiry as to whether there are teachers of virtue or not (dikaion dȇ meta toioutȏn zȇtein aretȇs peri didaskalous, eit’ eisin ȇ mȇ), and who they may be (kai hoitines). So please, Anytus, join with me and your family-friend Meno in our inquiry (su oun hȇmin, ȏ Anute, suzȇtȇson emoi te kai tȏi sautou xenȏi Menȏni tȏide) about this matter (peri toutou tou pragmatos) – who can be the teachers (tines an eien didaskaloi). Consider it thus (hȏde de skepsai): if we wanted (ei bouloimetha) Meno here (Menȏna tonde) to be a good doctor (agathon iatron genesthai), to whom should we send him for instruction (para tinas an auton pempoimen didaskalous;)? Would it not be to the doctors (ar’ ou para tous iatrous;)?’ – Anytos: ‘Certainly (Panu ge).’ (89e6-90c3)

***

On the face of it, in his talk to Meno, Socrates invites Anytus to join them in their investigation, for he regards him to be a man best qualified for it. He begins with what looks like a praise of his father, he praises him for his wealth acquired ‘by his wisdom’ tȇi hautou sophiai – I don’t know why Lamb decided to translate Plato’s tȇi hautou sophiai as ‘the product of his own skill’; knowing what Socrates’ notion of wisdom is, we immediately begin to view Socrates’ praise as ironical. We are thus prepared to see in all its significance Socrates’ distancing himself from the third point of his praise, the praise of his father for giving Anytus ‘a good upbringing and education, as the Athenian people think, for they choose him for the highest offices’.

Here we learn a very important thing about Plato’s desire and determination to be engaged in politics within the framework of the Athenian democracy. He aims at bringing about the state in which the general population would be so well educated that they would elect into the highest offices those who would be best educated for the task of governing the city.

In what follows, we can expect that Socrates is going to justify his distancing himself from the people of Athens in their estimate of Anytus’ being well educated and therefore fit to be chosen into the highest offices.

***

Socrates: ‘And if we wanted him to become a good cobbler (Ti d’ ei skutotomon agathon bouloimetha genesthai), should we not send him to the cobblers (ar’ ou para tous skutotomous;)? – Anytus: ‘Yes (Nai).’ – Socrates: ‘And in the same way with every other trade (Kai t’alla houtȏs;)?’ – Anytus: ‘Certainly (Panu ge).’ – Socrates: ‘Now let me ask you something more about these same instances (Hȏde dȇ moi peri tȏn autȏn eipe). We should be right, we say, in sending him to the doctors (para tous iatrous, phamen, pempontes tonde kalȏs an epempomen) if we wanted him to be a doctor (boulomenoi iatron genesthai). When we say this (Ar’ hotan touto legȏmen), do we mean (tode legomen) that we would be wise in sending him to those (hoti para toutous pempontes auton sȏphronoimen an) who profess the art (tous antipoioumenous te tȇs technȇs) rather than those who do not (mallon ȇ tous mȇ), and to those who charge a fee (kai tous misthon prattomenous) for the particular thing they do (ep’ autȏi toutȏi), as avowed teachers (apophȇnantas hautous didaskalous) of anyone who wishes to come (tou boulomenou ienai) and learn from them (kai manthanein;)? If these were our reasons (ar’ ou pros tauta blepsantes), should we not be right in sending him (kalȏs an pempoimen;)?’ – Anytus: ‘Yes (Nai).’ – Socrates: ‘And the same would hold in the case of flute-playing, and so with the rest (Oukoun kai peri aulȇseȏs kai tȏn allȏn ta auta tauta;)? What folly, when we wanted to make someone a flute-player (pollȇ anoia esti boulomenous aulȇtȇn tina poiȇsai), to refuse to send him to the professed teachers of the art, who charge a regular fee (para men tous hupischnoumenous didaxein tȇn technȇn kai misthon prattomenous mȇ ethelein pempein), and to bother with requests for instruction other people (allois de tisi pragmata parechein, zȇtounta manthanein para toutȏn) who neither set up to be teachers (hoi mȇte prospoiountai didaskaloi einai) nor have a single pupil in that sort of study (mȇt’ estin autȏn mathȇtȇs mȇdeis toutou tou mathȇmatos) which we expect him, when sent, to pursue (ho hȇmeis axioumen manthanein par’ autȏn hon an pempȏmen)! Do you not consider this would be grossly unreasonable (ou pollȇ soi dokei alogia einai;)?’ – Anytus: ‘Yes, on my word, I do (Nai ma Dia emoige), and stupid to boot (kai amathia ge pros).’ – Socrates: ‘Quite right (Kalȏs legeis). And now there is an opportunity of your joining me (nun toinun exesti se met’ emou koinȇi) in a consultation on my friend Meno here (bouleuesthai peri tou xenou toutouï Menȏnos).’ (90c4-91a1)

***

Here I must interrupt Socrates’ address to Anytus, for Lamb’s ‘and now there is an opportunity of your’ for Socrates’ nun toinun exesti se gives a wrong twist to Socrates’ address. Jowett translates correctly: ‘and now you are in a position to’. With his preliminary questioning Socrates was preparing Anytus for what he is going to suggest to him, he was ‘enabling’ him to join him in the enquiry. I put ‘enabling’ in quotation marks, for Anytus will prove to be totally ‘immune’ against any such enabling.

Let me add a little quibble concerning Lamb’s ‘in a consultation on my friend Meno here’; here Lamb appears to me to be unwittingly (un-thinkingly?) following Jowett’s ‘to advise me about my friend Meno’. Socrates uses the word xenos, which means, as Liddle & Scott’s Lexicon says, ‘a guest-friend bound by a tie of hospitality’; Meno is Anytus’ xenos.

***

Socrates continues: ‘He has been declaring to me ever so long, Anytus (houtos gar, ȏ Anute, palai legei pros me), that he desires to have that wisdom (hoti epithumei tautȇs tȇs sophias) and virtue (kai aretȇs) whereby men keep their house or their city in good order (hȇi hoi anthrȏpoi tas te oikias kai tas poleis kalȏs dioikousi), and honour their parents (kai tous goneas tous hautȏn therapeuousi), and know when to welcome and when to speed citizens and strangers (kai politas kai xenous hupodexasthai te kai apopempsai epistantai) as befits a good man (axiȏs andros agathou). Now tell me, to whom ought we properly to send him for lessons in this virtue (tautȇn oun tȇn aretȇn mathȇsomenon skopei [‘consider’] para tinas an pempontes auton orthȏs an pempoimen)? Or is it clear enough (ȇ dȇlon dȇ), from our argument just now (kata ton arti logon), that he should go to these men who profess to be teachers of virtue (hoti para toutous tous hupischnoumenous aretȇs didaskalous einai) and advertise themselves as the common teachers to the Greeks, and are ready to instruct anyone who chooses (kai apophȇnantas hautous koinous tȏn Hellȇnȏn tȏi boulomenȏi manthanein) in return for fees charged on a fixed scale (misthon toutou taxamenous kai prattomenous;)?’ – Anytus: ‘To whom are you referring (Kai tinas legeis toutous), Socrates (ȏ Sȏkrates;)?’ – Socrates: ‘Surely you know as well as anyone (Oistha dȇpou kai su); they are the men (hoti houtoi eisin) whom people (hous hoi anthrȏpoi) call sophists (kalousi sophistas).’ – Anytus: ‘For heaven’s sake (Hȇrakleis) hold your tongue (euphȇmei), Socrates (ȏ Sȏkrates)! May no kinsman or friend of mine (mȇdena tȏn g’ emȏn), whether of this city or another (mȇte oikeiȏn mȇte philȏn), be seized with such madness (toiautȇ mania laboi) as to let himself be infected with the company of those men (hȏste para toutous elthonta lȏbȇthȇnai); for they are manifest plague (epei houtoi ge phanera esti lȏbȇ te) and corruption (kai diaphtora) to those who frequent them (tȏn sungignomenȏn).’ – Socrates: ‘What is this (Pȏs legeis), Anytus (ȏ Anute;)? 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 (houtoi ara monoi tȏn antipoioumenȏn ti [‘something’, ‘anything’] epistasthai euergetein tosouton tȏn allȏn diapherousin, hoson ou monon ouk ȏphelousin, hȏsper hoi alloi, ho ti [‘something’, ‘anything’] an tis autois paradȏi, alla kai to enantion diaphtheirousi;)? And is it for doing this (kai toutȏn) that they openly claim the payment of fees (phanerȏs chrȇmata axiousi prattesthai;)? For my part I cannot bring myself to believe you (egȏ men oun ouk echȏ hopȏs soi pisteusȏ); for I know of one man (oida gar andra hena), Protagoras (Prȏtagoran), who amassed more money (pleiȏ chrȇmata ktȇsamenon) by his craft (apo tautȇs tȇs sophias) than Pheidias  (ȇ Pheidian te) – so famous for the noble works he produced (hos houtȏ periphanȏs kala erga eirgazeto) – or any ten other sculptors (kai allous deka tȏn andriantopoiȏn). And yet how surprising (kaitoi teras legeis ‘what you say is a monstrosity’) that menders of old shoes (ei hoi ta hupodȇmata ergazomenoi ta palaia) and furbishers of clothes (kai ta himatia exakoumenoi) should not be able to go undetected thirty days (ouk an dunainto lathein triakonth’ hȇmeras) if they should return their clothes or shoes in worse condition than they received them (mochthȇrotera apodidontes ȇ parelabon ta himatia te kai hupodȇmata), and that such doings on their part (all’ ei toiauta poioien) would quickly starve them to death (tachu an tȏi limȏi apothanoien), 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 (Prȏtagoras de ara holȇn tȇn Hellada elanthane diaphtheirȏn tous sungignomenous kai mochthȇroterous apopempȏn ȇ parelambane pleon ȇ tettarakonta etȇ). For I believe he died about seventy years old (oimai gar auton apothanein engus kai hebdomȇkonta etȇ gegonota), forty of which he spent in the practice of his art (tettarakonta de en tȇi technȇi gegonota); and he retains undiminished to this day the high reputation he has enjoyed all that time (kai en hapanti tȏi chronȏi toutȏi eti eis tȇn hȇmeran tautȇni eudokimȏn ouden pepautai) – and not only Protagoras (kai ou monon Prȏtagoras), but a multitude of others too (alla kai alloi pampolloi): some who lived before him (hoi men proteron gegonotes ekeinou), and others still living (hoi de kai nun eti ontes). Now are we to take it (poteron dȇ oun phȏmen), according to you (kata ton son logon), that they wittingly (eidotas autous) deceived (exapatan) and corrupted the youth (kai lȏbasthai tous neous), or that they were themselves unconscious of it (ȇ lelȇthenai kai autous;)? Are we to conclude those who are frequently termed the wisest of mankind to have been so demented as that (kai houtȏ mainesthai axiȏsomen toutous, hous enioi phasi sophȏtatous anthrȏpȏn einai;)?’ (91a1-92a6)

***

How are we to understand this defence of the sophists by Socrates? Note that none of it is based on Socrates’ experience with the sophists; it is based on generally accepted view of them. He expressed his opinion on this matter at the beginning of the dialogue: ‘I never yet came across anybody who did know what virtue is’. When Meno asked ‘You did not meet Gorgias when he was here?’ Socrates answered that he did, and when Meno asked ‘And you didn’t consider that he knew?’, Socrates answered evasively: ‘I have not a very good memory (ou panu eimi mnȇm , Meno (ȏ Menȏn), so I cannot tell (hȏste ouk echȏ eipein) at the moment (en tȏi paronti) how he struck me then (pȏs moi tote edoxen) … Then let us pass him over (Ekeinon men toinun eȏmen), since in fact he is not present (epeidȇ de kai apestin).’  (71c-d) Socrates was not prepared to seriously discuss the sophists at their absence. When he invited Anytus to discuss the sophists in such an elaborate, well prepared manner, as he did, he obviously did not expect any serious discussion on that matter. He just wanted to bring to light Anytus’ views on the subject, which he succeeded in doing.

***

Anytus: ‘Demented! Not they, Socrates (Pollou ge deousi mainesthai, ȏ Sȏkrates): rather the young men who pay them money (alla polu mallon hoi toutois didontes argurion tȏn neȏn), and still more (toutȏn d’ eti mallon) the relations who let the young men have their way (hoi toutois epitrepontes, hoi prosȇkontes); and most of all the cities (polu de malista pantȏn hai poleis) that allow them to enter (eȏsai autous eisaphikneisthai), and do not expel them (kai ouk exelaunousai), whether such attempt be made by stranger (eite tis xenos epicheirei toiouton ti poiein) or citizen (eite astos).’ – Socrates: ‘Tell me (Poteron de), Anytus (ȏ Anute), has any of the sophists wronged you (ȇdikȇke tis se tȏn sophistȏn;)? What makes you so hard on them (ȇ ti houtȏs autois chalepos ei;)?’ – Anytus: ‘No, heaven knows I have never in my life had dealings with any of them (Oude ma Dia egȏge sungegona pȏpote autȏn oudeni), nor would I let any of my people have to do with them either (oud’ an allon easaimi tȏn emȏn oudena).’ – Socrates: ‘Then you have absolutely no experience (Apeiros ar’ ei pantapasi) of those persons (tȏn andrȏn;)?’ – Anytus: ‘And trust I never may (Kai eiȇn ge).’ – Socrates: ‘How then (Pȏs oun an), my good sir (ȏ daimonie), can you tell whether a thing  has any good or evil in it (eideiȇs peri toutou tou pragmatos, eite ti agathon echei en heautȏi eite phlauron), if you are quite without experience of it (hou pantapasi apeiros eiȇs;)?’ – Anytus: ‘Easily (Raidiȏs): the fact is, I know what these people are (toutous g’oun oida hoi eisin), whether I have experience of them or not (eit’ oun apeiros autȏn eimi eite mȇ).’ (92a7-c5)

***

Any contemporary reader of these lines had to ask himself or herself, how on earth can this man have been chosen to the highest offices in the city; and he had to admire the skill, courage, and freedom with which Socrates prompted Anytus to expose himself in this way. When Plato put this discussion on paper, he must have been convinced that Socrates’ position was unassailable: he was a man who defied the Thirty, refusing to bring to prison ‘a friend of the exiles, when the democrats had the misfortune of having been exiled’ (Plato, Seventh Letter 325c). This is not a mere speculation. When Socrates was indicted three years later, he and his friends were convinced that he must win the case. At the trial, it was only when Socrates was found guilty, and Anytus insisted on the death sentence for him, that Plato, Crito, Critoboulus and Apollodȏrus became fully aware of what was happening, and asked Socrates to suggest a financial penalty; to no purpose (Plato Apology 38b). Attempting to persuade Socrates to escape from prison, Crito says: ‘And indeed, I am ashamed not only of you, but of us who are your friends (egȏge kai huper sou kai huper hȇmȏn tȏn sȏn epitȇdeiȏn aischunomai), when I reflect that the whole business may be attributed entirely to our want of courage (mȇ doxȇi hapan to pragma to peri se anandriai tini tȇi hȇmeterai peprachthai). The trial need never have to come on (kai hȇ eisodos tȇs dikȇs eis to dikastȇrion hȏs eisȇlthen exon mȇ eiselthein), or might have been managed differently (kai autos ho agȏn tȇs dikȇs hȏs egeneto).’ (Plato, Crito 45d8-e5, tr. Jowett)

***

Socrates: ‘You are a wizard (Mantis ei), perhaps (isȏs), Anytus (ȏ Anute); for I really cannot see, from what you say yourself, how else you can know anything about them (epei hopȏs ge allȏs oistha toutȏn peri, ex hȏn autos legeis thaumazoim’ an). But we are not inquiring now who the teachers are (alla gar ou toutous epizȇtoumen tines eisi) whose lessons would make Meno wicked (par’ hous an Menȏn aphikomenos mochthȇros genoito); let us grant, if you will, that they are the sophists (houtoi men gar, ei su boulei, estȏn hoi sophistai): I only ask you to tell us, and do Meno 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 have described just now (alla dȇ ekeinous eipe hȇmin, kai ton patrikon tonde hetairon euergetȇson, phrasas autȏi, para tinas aphikomenos en tosautȇi polei tȇn aretȇn hȇn nundȇ egȏ diȇlthon genoit’ an axios logou).’ – Anytus: ‘Why not tell him yourself (Ti de autȏi ou su ephrasas;)?’ – Socrates: ‘I did mention to him the men whom I supposed to be the teachers of these things (All’ hous men egȏ ȏimȇn didaskalous toutȏn einai, eipon); but I find, from what you say, that I am quite off the track (alla tunchanȏ ouden legȏn, hȏs su phȇis), and I daresay you are on it (kai isȏs ti legeis). Now you take your turn, and tell him to whom of the Athenians he is to go (alla su dȇ en tȏi merei autȏi eipe para tinas elthȇi Athȇnaiȏn). Give us a name – anyone you please (eipe onoma hotou boulei).’ – Anytus: ‘Why mention a particular one (Ti de henos anthrȏpou onoma dei akousai;)? Any Athenian gentleman he comes across (hotȏi gar an entuchȇi Athȇnaiȏn tȏn kalȏn k’agathȏn), without exception, will do him more good, if he will do as he bids, than the sophists (oudeis estin hos ou beltiȏ auton poiȇsei ȇ hoi sophistai, eanper ethelȇi peithesthai).’ (92c6-e6)

***

Socrates does not disagree with Anytus that any Athenian gentleman would do Meno more good than the sophists, but his implicit agreement on this point gets lost in the subsequent discussion. I shall therefore point to the passage in the Apology which testifies to it that on this point Socrates’ views coincided with those of Anytus.

But let me mention first that there can be little doubt that some of those who read the dialogue or only heard about it prior to Socrates’ trial and death were inclined to view it as a cause of Anytus’ involvement in the prosecution of Socrates. It is to counteract this, I believe, that Socrates at the beginning of his Defence lays such a stress on the ancient misrepresentations of him as the primary cause of his indictement: ‘First then it is right for me to defend myself (Prȏton men oun dikaios eimi apologȇsasthai) against the first false accusations brought against me (pros ta prȏta mou pseudȇ katȇgoroumena), and the first accusers (kai tous prȏtous katȇgorous), and then against the later accusations (epeita pros ta hustera) and the later accusers (kai tous husterous). For many accusers have risen up against me before you (emou gar polloi katȇgoroi gegonasi pros humas), who have been speaking for a long time, many years already (kai palai polla ȇdȇ etȇ), and saying nothing true (kai ouden alȇthes legontes); and I fear them more than Anytus and those around him (hous egȏ mallon phoboumai ȇ tous amphi Anuton), though these also are dangerous (kaitoi ontas kai toutous deinous, 18a7-b4).’ Socrates then points out that the first accusations – ‘Socrates is a criminal (Sȏkratȇs adikei) and a busybody (kai periergazetai), investigating the things beneath the earth (zȇtȏn ta te hupo gȇs) and in the heavens (kai ourania) and making the weaker argument stronger (kai ton hȇttȏ logon kreittȏ poiȏn) and teaching others these same things (kai allous ta auta tauta  didaskȏn, 19b4c1)’ – were well exemplified in the Clouds: ‘For you yourselves saw these things (tauta gar heȏrate kai autoi) in Aristophanes’ comedy (en tȇi Aristophanous kȏmȏidiai, 19c2).’ These accusations he dismissed on the basis of his ignorance: ‘about which I know nothing, either much or little (hȏn egȏ ouden oute mega oute mikron peri epaïȏ, 19c4-5).’

Having refuted the first accusations and the first accusers, he comes to the present accusers: ‘And if you have heard from anyone (ei tinos akȇkoate) that I undertake to teach people (hȏs egȏ paideuein epicheirȏ anthrȏpous) and I take money by it (kai chrȇmata prattomai), that is not true either (oude touto alȇthes). Although this also sems to me to be a fine thing (Epei kai tode ge moi dokei kalon einai), if one might be able to teach people (ei tis hoios t’ eiȇ paideuein anthrȏpous), as Gorgias of Leontini (hȏsper Gorgias te ho Leontinos) and Prodicus of Ceos (kai Prodikos ho Keios) and Hippias of Elis are (kai Hippias ho Ȇleios). For each of these men (toutȏn gar hekastos), gentlemen (ȏ andres), is able (hoios t’estin) to go into any one of the cities (iȏn eis hekastȇn tȏn poleȏn) and persuade the young men, who can associate for nothing with whomsoever they wish among their fellow citizens (tous neous, hois exesti tȏn heautȏn politȏn proȋka xuneinai hȏi an boulȏntai, toutous peithousin), to give up the association with them (tas ekeinȏn xunousias apolipontas sphisin xuneinai) and pay them money (chrȇmata didontas) and be grateful besides (kai charin proseidenai).’ (19 d8-20a2)

That Socrates in his praise of the sophists is speaking with biting irony becomes clear in his discussion with Callias, the son of Hipponicus – a man who has spent more on sophists than all the rest’ (hos teteleke chrȇmata sophistais pleiȏ ȇ sumpantes hoi alloi, 20a4-5) – which he then reported. He asked him whether there was anyone ‘who has knowledge of the virtue of a man and citizen (tȇs aretȇs, tȇs anthrȏpinȇs te kai politikȇs, epistȇmȏn estin, 20b4-5)’, ‘and what is his price for his teaching (kai posou didaskei, 20b7-8).’ Callias answered: ‘Evenus (Euȇnos), from Paros (Parios), five minae (pente mnȏn)’. Socrates ended the story with the words: ‘And I called Evenus blessed (kai egȏ ton Euȇnon emakarisa), if he really had this art (ei hȏs alȇthȏs echei tautȇn tȇn technȇn) and taught so reasonably (kai houtȏs emmelȏs didaskei). I myself should be vain (egȏ kai autos ekallunomȇn te) and put on airs (kai hȇbrunomȇn an), if I understood these things (ei ȇpistamȇn tauta); but I do not understand them (all’ ou gar epistamai), men of Athens (ȏ andres Athȇnaioi).’ (20b-c)

That in the passage concerning the sophists Socrates was responding to the accusations of ‘those around Anytus’ is clear, for, firstly, he said earlier that he would refer to them after his having dealt with the first accusers, secondly, because he now speaks of the present allegations, and thirdly, because he says, at a later stage, that Anytus was speaking of his education of the young (29c). If this is right, then Socrates in his Defence speech felt the need to clarify the discussion on this theme that he had had with Anytus, presented in the Meno.

***

Socrates: ‘And did those gentlemen grow spontaneously into what they are (Poteron de houtoi hoi kaloi k’agathoi apo tou automatou egenonto toioutoi), and without learning from anybody are they able, nevertheless, to teach others (par’ oudenos mathontes homȏs mentoi allous didaskein hoioi te ontes tauta) what they did not learn themselves (ha autoi ouk emathon;)? – Anytus: ‘I expect they must have learnt in their turn from the older generation (Kai toutous egȏge axiȏ para tȏn proterȏn mathein), who were gentlemen (ontȏn kalȏn k’agathȏn): or does it not seem to you (ȇ ou dokousi soi) that we have had many good men in this city (polloi kai agathoi gegonenai en tȇide tȇi polei andres;)?’ – Socrates: ‘Yes, I agree Anytus (Emoige, ȏ Anute); we have many who are good in politics (kai einai dokousin enthade agathoi ta politika), and we have had them in the past as well as now (kai gegonenai eti ouch hȇtton ȇ einai). But I want to know whether they have proved good teachers besides of their own virtue (alla mȏn kai didaskaloi agathoi gegonasi tȇs hautȏn aretȇs;): that is the question with which our discussion is actually concerned (touto gar esti peri hou ho logos hȇmin tunchanei ȏn) … Did the good men (ara hoi agathoi andres) of our own and of the former times (kai tȏn nun kai tȏn proterȏn) know how to transmit to another man the virtue in respect of which they were good (tautȇn tȇn aretȇn, hȇn autoi agathoi ȇsan, ȇpistanto kai allȏi paradounai), or is it something not to be transmitted or taken over from one human being to another (ȇ ou paradoton touto anthrȏpȏi oude paralȇpton allȏi par’ allou)? … just consider it in your own way of speaking (hȏde oun skopei ek tou sautou logou): would you not say that Themistocles was a good man (Themistoklea ouk agathon an phaiȇs andra gegonenai;)?’ – Anytus: ‘I would (Egȏge), particularly so (pantȏn ge malista).’ (92e7-93c2) … Socrates: ‘Did you ever hear anybody, older or young, say that Cleophantus, son of Themistocles, had the same goodness and accomplishments as his father (hȏs Kleophantos ho Themistokleous anȇr agathos kai sophos egeneto haper ho patȇr autou, ȇdȇ tou akȇkoas ȇ neȏterou ȇ presbuterou;)? – Anytus: ‘Certainly not (Ou dȇta).’ (93e2-5)

Socrates goes on to ask similar questions concerning other famous Athenian politicians, Aristeides, Pericles, and Thucydides. He ends the discussion on Thucydides and his two sons with the words: ‘He, who was of a great house (kai oikias megalȇs ȇn) and had much influence in our city (kai edunato mega en tȇi polei) and all over Greece (kai en tois allois Hellȇsin), so that if virtue were to be taught (hȏste eiper ȇn touto didakton) he would have found out the man who was likely to make his sons good (exeurein an hostis emellen autou tous hueis agathous poiȇsein), whether one of our own people (ȇ tȏn epichȏriȏn tis) or a foreigner (ȇ tȏn xenȏn), were he himself too busy (ei autos mȇ escholaze) owing to the cares of the state (dia tȇn tȇs poleȏs epimeleian)! Ah no, my dear Anytus (alla gar, ȏ hetaire Anute), it looks as though virtue were not a teachable thing (mȇ ouk ȇi didakton aretȇ).’ – Anytus: ‘Socrates (Ō Sȏkrates), I consider you are too apt to speak ill of people (raidiȏs moi dokeis kakȏs legein anthrȏpous). I for one, if you will take my advice, would warn you to be careful (egȏ men oun an soi sumbouleusaimi, ei etheleis moi peithesthai, eulabeisthai): in most cities it is probably easier to do people harm than good (hȏs isȏs men kai en allȇi polei raion esti kakȏs poiein anthrȏpous ȇ eu), and particularly in this one (en tȇide de kai panu); I think you know that yourself (oimai de se kai auton eidenai).’ (94d5-95a1)

Lamb notes: ‘Anytus goes away.‘ I do not agree. There is no indication in the text that Anytus went away at this point. When he came, he just sat down beside them, listening to what they were talking about. It was Socrates who noted: ‘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.’ One might expect that his going away would be similarly indicated.

Lamb presumably takes Socrates’ next entrance as such an indication: ‘Meno (Ō Menȏn), I think Anytus is angry (Anutos men moi dokei chalepainein), and I am not at all surprised (kai ouden thaumazȏ) for he conceives, in the first place, that I am speaking ill of these gentlemen (oietai gar me prȏton men kakȇgorein toutous tous andras); and in the second place (epeita), he considers that he is one of them himself (hȇgeitai kai autos einai heis toutȏn).’ But Socrates spoke similarly freely about Anytus, as he came and sat beside them, explaining to Meno why they should involve him in their discussion: ‘for Anytus, in the first place, is a son of a wise and wealthy father, Anthemion, who became rich … he gave his son a good upbringing, as the Athenian people think …’

Furthermore, there are indications that Anytus remained sitting and listening to them. In the discussion that follows Socrates explains to Meno that ‘It was not by any wisdom (Ouk ara sophiai tini), nor because they were wise (oude sophoi ontes), that the sort of men we spoke of controlled their state (hoi toioutoi andres hȇgounto tais polesin) – Themistocles and the rest of them, to whom our friend Anytus was referring a moment ago (hoi amphi Themistoklea te kai hous arti Anutos hode elege, 99b5-7).’ Lamb translates Socrates’ Anutos hode as ‘our friend Anytus’, but Socrates’ hode means ‘this here’ – Anutos hode ‘Anytus here’ – as it did when Socrates said to Meno that ‘Anytus here sat down beside us’ (hȇmin Anutus hode parekathezeto). The same reference to Anytus comes up again a little further. Socrates: ‘And we may, Meno, rightly call those men divine (Oukoun, ȏ Menȏn, axion toutous theious kalein tous andras) who, having no understanding (hoitines noun ouk echontes), yet succeed in many a great deed and word (polla kai megala katorthousin hȏn prattousi kai legousin;)? … and especially we may say of the statesmen that they are divine and enraptured (kai tous politikous ouch hȇkista toutȏn phaimen an theious te einai kai enthousiazein), as being inspired (epipnous ontas) and possessed of God (kai katechomenous ek tou theou) when they succeed (hotan katorthȏsi) in speaking many great things (legontes polla kai megala pragmata), while knowing nought of what they say (mȇden eidotes hȏn legousin).’ – Meno: ’Certainly (Panu ge)’. – Socrates: ‘And the women too (Kai hai ge gunaikes), I presume (dȇpou), Meno (ȏ Menȏn), call good men divine (tous agathous andras theious kalousi); and the Spartans (kai hoi Lakȏnes), when they eulogize a good man (hotan tina enkȏmiazȏsin agathon andra), say – “He is a divine person” (theios anȇr, phasin, houtos).’ – Meno: ‘And to all appearance (Kai phainontai ge), Socrates (ȏ Sȏkrates), they are right (orthȏs legein); though (kaitoi) perhaps (isȏs) our friend Anytus (Anutos hode 'Anytus here') may be annoyed at your statement (soi achthetai legonti ‘is annoyed as you say this’;  Meno appears to be saying this as he looks at Anytus’ expression).’ (99c7-e2)

Anytus’ displeasure does not worry Socrates: ‘For my part, I care not (Ouden melei emoige). With him (toutȏi men), Meno (ȏ Menȏn), we will converse some other time (kai authis dialexometha). At the moment, if through all this discussion our queries and statements have been correct (ei de nun hȇmeis en panti tȏi logȏi toutȏi kalȏs ezȇtȇsamen te kai elegomen), virtue is found to be neither natural (aretȇ an eiȇ oute phusei) nor taught (oute didakton), but is imparted to us by a divine dispensation (alla theiai moirai paragignomenȇ) without understanding (aneu nou) in those who receive it (hois an paragignȇtai), unless there should be somebody among the statesmen (ei mȇ tis eiȇ toioutos tȏn politikȏn andrȏn) capable of making a statesman of another (hoios kai allon poiȇsai politikon). And if there should be any such (ei de eiȇ), he might fairly be said to be among living (schedon an ti houtos legoito toioutos en tois zȏsin) what Homer says (hoion ephȇ Homȇros) Teiresias was among the dead (en tois tethneȏsi ton Teiresian einai) – “He alone has comprehension; the rest are flitting shades” (legȏn peri autou, hoti oios pepnutai tȏn en Haidou, hai de skiai aïssousi). In the same way he on earth (t’auton an kai enthade ho toioutos), in respect of virtue, will be a real substance among shadows (hȏsper para skias alȇthes an pragma eiȇ pros aretȇn).’ (99e3-100a7)

With these words Socrates transcends the Meno; he is again ‘pursuing Plato (touton diȏkȏ), in his footsteps, as if he were a god (katopisthe met’ ichnion hȏste theoio, Phaedrus 266b6-7)’.

Meno says: ‘I think you put it excellently (Kallista dokeis moi legein), Socrates (ȏ Sȏkrates, 100b1).’ These are his last words in the dialogue.

***
Since over more than fifty years of studying Plato I came to a firm conviction that the Phaedrus was his first dialogue, I cannot read Socrates’ last entry and Meno’s response to it without seeing it in the light of the Phaedran Palinode, or more precisely, as a pointer towards it. I have in mind especially the passage in which Zeus is depicted as ‘the great leader’ (ho megas hȇgemȏn), ‘who is putting all things in order and is caring for all’ (246e4-6), which is followed by the passage in which Socrates speaks of himself and of Phaedrus as ‘we who follow Zeus’ (hepomenoi meta men Dios hȇmeis, 250b7), where Plato, as the author, thinks undoubtedly in the first place of himself as the follower of Zeus. Thus prepared comes the crucial passage: ‘And so those who belong to Zeus (hoi men oun Dios) seek that the one they love should be someone like Zeus in respect of his soul (dion tina einai zȇtousi tȇn psuchȇn ton huph’ hautȏn erȏmenon); so they look to see (skopousin oun) whether he is naturally disposed towards philosophy and towards leadership (ei philosophos te kai hȇgemonikos tȇn phusin), and when they have found him (kai hotan auton heurontes) and fall in love (erasthȏsi) they do everything to make him of such a kind (pan poiousin hopȏs toioutos estai, 252e1-5, tr. C.J. Rowe).’ – This is how Meno is depicted in the Meno; within the framework of the dialogue Socrates does everything ‘everything to make him of such a kind’.

When Socrates speaks about a ‘statesman capable of making a statesman of another’ (100a), he points to Plato and to Meno; to Plato as ‘a man capable of making a statesman of another’ and to Meno as a man who is being made into a true statesman in his hands. Plato undoubtedly believed that Meno was going to become a prominent statesman in his native Thessaly. This consideration has its relevance for the dating of the dialogue. I believe that Plato wrote and published it before Meno took part, as a military commander (with his 1,500 hoplites and peltasts), in the disastrous adventure of Cyrus, in March of 401 B.C. (Debra Nails, The People of Plato, p. 204).

***

Socrates: ‘Then the result of our reasoning (Ek men toinun toutou tou logismou), Meno (ȏ Menȏn), is found to be that virtue comes to us by a divine dispensation (theiai moirai hȇmin phainetai paragignomenȇ hȇ arertȇ), when it does come (hois paragignetai). But the certainty of this we shall only know (to de saphes peri autou eisometha) when, before asking in what way virtue comes to mankind (tote, hotan prin hȏitini tropȏi tois anthrȏpois paragignetai aretȇ), we set about inquiring what virtue is, in and by itself (proteron epicheirȇsȏmen auto kath’ hauto zȇtein ti pot’ estin aretȇ). (100b2-6)

Socrates thus opens to Meno the prospect of becoming initiated into beholding the realm of ‘being that truly is’, which Plato presented in the Phaedrus.

Undoubtedly confident that Meno is to stay in order to become initiated (see 76e7-77a4), Socrates ends the dialogue with the words: ‘It is time now for me to go my way (nun d’ emoi  men hȏra poi ienai), but do you persuade our friend Anytus of that whereof you are now yourself persuaded (su de tauta haper autos pepeisai peithe kai ton xenon tonde Anyton), so as to put him in a gentler mood (hina praioteros ȇi); for if you can persuade him (hȏs ean peisȇis auton), you will do a good turn to the people of Athens also (estin hoti kai Athȇnaious onȇseis).’ (100b2-c2)

Socrates’ closing words emphasize the importance of what Meno has become persuaded in the dialogue, and testify to the major development that Meno has thus undergone in its course. And as for Anytus, who is still sitting side by side with them (tonde Anyton, ‘Anytus here’, tonde is the accusative of hode), Socrates with these last words acknowledges his importance within the political establishment of Athens.