Meno 13

Meno 12 ended with Anytus’ advice to Socrates: Socrates, I consider you are too apt to speak ill of people. I, for one, if you will take my advice, would warn you to be careful: in most cities it is probably easier to do people harm than good, and particularly in this one; I think you know that yourself.

I shall devote Meno 13 to Socrates’ response to Anytus’ advice, and to Lamb’s note on it, which represents what those Platonic scholars would have thought about it, who gave it a thought.

Socrates: Meno, (W} Me/nwn) I think Anytus is angry (A1nutoj me/n moi dokei= xalepai/nein), and I am not at all surprised (kai\ ou0de\n qauma/zw): for he conceives, in the first place, that I am speaking ill of these gentlemen (oi1etai ga/r me prw~ton me\n kakhgorei=n tou/touj tou\j a1ndraj): and in the second place (e1peita), he considers he is one of them himself (h9gei=tai kai\ au0to\j ei]nai ei[j tou/twn). Yet, should the day come when he knows what “speaking ill” means (a0ll’ ou[toj me\n e0a/n pote gnw~|, oi[o/n e0sti to\ kakw~j le/gein), his anger will cease (pau/setai xalepai/nwn); at present he does not know (nu=n de\ a0gnoei=). (95a2-6)

W.R.M. Lamb, the translator, notes: ‘This is probably not a reference to a prosecution of Anytus himself, but a suggestion that what he needs is a Socratic discussion on “speaking ill,” for “ill” may mean “maliciously,” “untruthfully,” “ignorantly,” etc.’

Dating the Meno after Socrates’ death, the Platonic scholars could not but misrepresent the dialogue. For the whole of Plato’s Apology (APOLOGIA SWKRATOUS: Socrates’ defence) can be seen as Socrates’ discussion of “speaking ill”, with a focus on Anytus and those around him (oi9 a0mfi\ A1nuton, 18b3). But there was no point in trying to explain to Anytus and those around him what “speaking ill” meant. They did speak ill of Socrates, and they did it “maliciously” and “untruthfully.” But since “speaking ill” was a big problem, generally, and in the accusation of Socrates in particular, Socrates devoted to the problem a lot of time in his Defence, beginning with his opening sentence:

“How you, men of Athens, have been affected by my accusers (O! ti me\n u9mei=j, w} a1ndrej A0qhnai/oi, pepo/nqate u9po\ tw~n e0mw~n kathgo/rwn), I do not know (ou0k oi]da): but I, for my part, almost forgot my own identity (e0gw_ d’ ou]n kai\ au0to\j u9p’ au0tw~n o0li/gou e0mautou= e0pelaqo/mhn), so persuasively did they talk (ou3tw piqanw~j e1legon); and yet there is hardly a word of truth in what they have said (kai/toi a0lhqe/j ge, w(j e1poj ei0pei=n, ou0de\n ei0rh/kasin).

***

Lamb’s “ignorantly” deserves special attention. One might, of course, maintain that they misunderstood Socrates; but who didn’t. When I say “ignorantly”, I mean that they had a completely false idea of how it will all end. And for that they can be hardly blamed, for there are reasons to believe that at that time Socrates himself did not know. Or to be more precise, at the time Socrates made his Defence speech, he was ready to die for what he was saying to the Athenian people. It was the month that followed his death sentence that Socrates ceased to be sure, the month his friends did their best to get Socrates out of prison, out of Athens, to save him, as we know from the Crito: Socrates did not stop his friends from making all those preparations for his escape, which were fraught with danger.

But let me quote Crito: ‘But, my dear Socrates, even now listen to me and save yourself (a1ll’, w} daimo/nie Sw&kratej, e1ti kai\ nu=n e0moi\ piqou= kai\ sw&qhti, 44b5-6) … But, Socrates, tell me this (ta/de de/, w} Sw&kratej, ei0pe/ moi): you are not considering me and your other friends, are you (a]ra/ ge mh\ e0mou= promhqh=| kai\ tw~n a1llwn e0pithdei/wn), fearing that, if you escape, the informers will make trouble for us (mh/, e0a\n su\ e0nqe/nde e0ce/lqh|j, oi9 sukofa/ntai h9mi=n pra/gmata pare/xousin) by saying that we stole you away (w(j se\ e0nqe/nde e0kkle/yasin), and we shall be forced to lose all our property and a good deal of money (kai\ a0nagkasqw~men h2 kai\ pa=san th\n ou0si/an a0pobalei=n h2 suxna\ xrh/mata), or be punished in some other way besides (h2 kai\ a1llo ti pro\j tou/toij paqei=n;)? For if you are afraid of anything of that kind (ei0 ga/r ti toiou/ton fobh=|), let it go (e1ason tou=to xairei=n); since it is right for us to run this risk, and even greater risk than this, if necessary, provided we save you (h9mei=j ga\r pou di/kaioi/ e0smen sw&sante/j se kinduneu/ein tou/ton to\n ki/ndunon kai\ e0a\n de/h| e1ti tou/tou mei/zw). Now please do as I ask (a1ll’ e0moi\ pei/qou kai\ mh\ a1llwj poi/ei).’ (44e1-45a3)

But I was to say whether Anytus and those around him did what they did – assured a death sentence for Socrates – being “ignorant” of Socrates. We may presume that they were well informed of all the preparations Socrates’ friends were making for his escape from prison, and from Athens. I even believe, that it was not by accident (tou=to d’ e1tuxen, ‘this happened’, Phaedo 68c3) that the priest of Apollo has wreathed the stern of the ship the day before the trial – see Phaedo 59a-c. Had Socrates escaped from prison, and with him his friends went into exile, Anytus’ hopes would have been fulfilled.

For Anytus’ hopes, see Meno 11. Let me point to the relevant passages.

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

Anytus: To whom are you referring, Socrates?

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

Anytus: For heaven’s sake hold your tongue, Socrates. May no kinsman or friend of mine, whether of this city or another, be seized with such madness as to let himself infected with the company of those men; for they are a manifest plague and corruption to those who frequent them.

Socrates: What is this, Anytus? Of all the people who set up to understand how to do us good, do you mean to single out these as conveying not merely no benefit, such as the rest can give, but actually corruption to anyone placed in their hands? And is it for doing this that they openly claim the payment of fees? … Now are we to take it, according to you, that they wittingly deceive and corrupt the youth, or that they are themselves unconscious of it? Are we to conclude that those who are frequently termed the wisest of mankind to have been so demented as that?

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

These words of Anytus entitle us to presume that he hoped to clean the city of such men, and that his ‘or citizen’ points to Socrates.  

Socrates asked Anytus to point to any Athenian who would teach virtue to Meno. When Anytus was at a loss, to keep him in discussion, Socrates suggested the names of several distinguished leaders of Athens, and their children: Themistocles and his son Cleophantes, Aristeides and his son Lysimachus, Pericles and his two sons, Paralus and Xanthippus, Thucydides [not the historian] and his two sons, Melesias and Stefanus.

Note Socrates’ words, with which he introduced this discussion: ‘Just consider it in your own way of speaking (w{de ou]n sko/pei e0k tou= sautou= lo/gou): would you not say that Themistocles was a good man?’ Introduced to philosophic mysteries, 76 e, Meno would cease to consider Themistocles – Aristeides, Pericles, and Thucydides – a great man.

Each of these great men let their sons to be well educated, but none was able to pass to them their own virtue. Socrates concluded: ‘Ah no, my dear Anytus, it looks as though virtue were not a teachable thing (a0lla\ ga\r, w} e9tai=re A1nute, mh\ ou0k h=| didakto\n a0reth/, 94e2)’

Anytus extricated himself from any further participation in discussion with an advice: ‘Socrates, I consider you are too apt to speak ill of people. I, for one, if you will take my advice, would warn you to be careful: in most cities it is probably easier to do people harm than good, and particularly in this one; I think you know that yourself.’

What Anytus did next, we may learn from Diogenes Laertius: ‘Socrates would take to task those who thought highly of themselves, proving them to be fools, as to be sure he treated Anytus, according to Plato’s Meno (w(j kai\ e0n tw~| Pla/twno/j e0sti Me/nwni). For Anytus could not endure to be thus ridiculed by Socrates (ou[toj ga\r ou0 fe/rwn to\n u9po\ Swkra/touj xleuasmo/n), and so in the first place stirred up against him Aristophanes [the writer of comedies] and those around him (prw~ton me\n e0ph/leiyen au0tw~| tou\j peri\ A0ristofa/nhn); then afterwards he helped to persuade Meletus to indict him on a charge of impiety and corrupting the youth (e1peita kai\ Me/lhton sune/peisen a0pene/gkasqai kat’ au0tou= grafh\n a0sebei/aj kai\ tw~n ne/wn diafqora=j)’. (Diog. Laert. II. 38)

Since, as we know from Plato’s Crito, Socrates refused to allow his friends to liberate him from prison, and decided to abide by the court’s decision, thus proving to be a model citizen, the Athenians soon repented, ‘banished the other accusers but put Meletus to death (tou\j me\n a1llouj e0fuga/deusan, Me/lhton de\ qa/naton kate/gnwsan) (Diog. Laert. II. 43).’

 

 

 

 

 

For the record: asterisks.

My “computer” does not allow me to use asterisk.  Instead of asterisks, which until now I have been using to mark my notes, I have been left with the feeble ***.

I apologize. When I returned to my note, and began to type it, it came out in Greek. But I was sure that I had there clearly 'Calibri' as the font I wanted to use. But I am 85, it happens easily that I forget to check such things, and that's why "I apologize". I therefore changed SPIonic to Calibri, and returned to my blog to write the I apologize. But when I turned back to my note, it again came out in SPIonic. Obviously, the last thing I wrote in the main text, was the original Greek, which, written in backets, followed H.N. Fowler’s translation, and the computer disregarded Calibri as font, and the moment I began to type the text of my note, it automatically continued in SPIonic.

So, once again, I apologize. If I knew how to remove this note from my blog, I would do so. But since I don’t know how to do it, my apology is the best I can do.

Meno 12

In Meno 11 Socrates’ questioning of Anytus culminated in Anytus’ defamation of sophists as corruptors of those they get into their hands, upon which Socrates remarked: ‘You are a wizard, perhaps, Anytus; for I really cannot see, from what you say yourself, how else you can know anything about them.’ (92c6-7)

Let Meno 12 begin with Socrates’ words that immediately follow.

Socrates:  But we are not inquiring now who the teachers are (a0lla\ ga\r mh\ ou0 tou/touj e0pizhtou=men ti/nej ei0si) whose lessons would make Meno wicked (pa\r’ ou4j a2n Me/nwn a0fiko/menoj moxqhro\j ge/noito); let us grant, if you will, that they are the sophists (ou[toi men ga\r, ei0 bou/lei, e1stwn oi9 sofistai/): I only ask you to tell us (a0lla\ dh\ e0kei/nouj ei0pe\ h9mi=n), and do Meno a service as a friend of your family by letting him know (kai\ to\n patriko\n to/nde e9tai=ron eu0rge/thson fra/saj au0tw~|), to whom  in all this great city he should apply (para\ ti/naj a0fiko/menoj e0n tosau/th| po/lei) in order to become eminent in the virtue I described just now (th\n a0reth\n h4n nundh\ e0gw_ dih=lqon ge/noit’ a2n a0ci/wj lo/gou).

Anytus: Why not tell him yourself (Ti/ de\ au0tw~| ou0 su\ e1frasaj;)?

Socrates: I did mention to him the men whom I supposed to be teachers of these things (a0ll’ ou4j me\n e0gw_ w@|mhn didaska/louj tou/twn ei]nai, ei]pon); but I find, from what you say, that I am quite off the track (a0lla\ tugxa/nw ou0de\n le/gwn, w(j su\ fh\|j ׄ kai\ i1swj ti\ le/geij). Now you take your turn (a0lla\ su\ dh\ e0n tw~| me/rei), and tell him (au0tw~| ei0pe/) to whom of the Athenians he is to go (para\ ti/naj e1lqh| A0qhnai/wn). Give us a name (ei0pe\ o1noma) – anyone you please (o3tou bou/lei).

Anytus: Why mention a particular one (Ti/ de\ e9no\j a0nqrw&pou o1noma dei= a0kou=sai;)? Any Athenian gentleman he comes across, without exception (o3tw~| ga\r a2n e0ntu/xh| A0qhnai/wn tw~n kalw~n ka0gaqw~n), will do him more good, if he will do as he is bid, than the sophists (ou0dei\j e1stin o4j ou0 belti/w au0to\n poih/sei h2 oi9 sofistai/, e0a/nper e0qe/lh| pei/qesqai).

Socrates: And did those gentlemen grow spontaneously into what they are (Po/teron de\ ou3toi oi9 kaloi\ ka0gaqoi\ a0po\ tou= au0toma/tou e0ge/nonto toiou/toi), and without learning from anybody (par’ ou0deno\j maqo/ntej) are they able, nevertheless, to teach others (o3mwj me/ntoi a1llouj dida/skein oi[oi/ te o1ntej tau=ta) what they did not learn themselves (a3 au0toi\ ou0k e1maqon;)?

Anytus: I expect they must have learnt in their turn from the older generation, who were gentlemen: or does it not seem to you that we have had many good men in this city (Kai\ tou/touj e1gwge a0ciw~ para\ tw~n prote/rwn maqei=n, o1ntwn kalw~n ka0gaqw~n): or does it not seem to you that we have had many good men in this city (h2 ou0 dokousi/ soi polloi\ kai\ a0gaqoi\ gegone/nai e0n th=|de th=| po/lei a1ndrej;)?

Socrates: Yes, I agree, Anytus; we have also many who are good at politics, and have had them in the past as well as now (E!moige, w} A1nute, kai\ ei]nai dokou=sin e0nqa/de a0gaqoi\ ta\ politika/, kai\ gegone/nai e1ti ou0x h3tton h2 ei]nai). But I want to know whether they have proved good teachers besides of their own virtue (a0lla\ mw~n kai\ dida/skaloi a0gaqoi\ gego/nasi th=j au9tw~n a0reth=j;): that is the question with which our discussion is actually concerned (tou=to ga/r e0sti peri\ ou4 o9 lo/goj h9mi=n tugxa/nei w!n); not whether there are, or formerly have been, good man amongst us or not (ou0k ei0 ei0si\n a0gaqoi\ h2 mh\ a1ndrej e0nqa/de, ou0d' ei0 gego/nasin e0n tw~| pro/sqen), but whether virtue is teachable; this has been our problem all the time (a0ll’ ei0 didakto/n e0stin a0reth\ pa/lai skopou=men). And our inquiry into this problem resolves itself into the question (tou=to de\ skopou=ntej to/de skopou=men): Did the good men of our own and of former times know how to transmit to another man the virtue in respect of which they are good (a]ra oi9 a0gaqoi\ a1ndrej kai\ tw~n nu=n kai\ tw~n prote/rwn tau/thn th\n a0reth/n, h4n au0toi\ a0gaqoi\ h]san, h0pi/stanto kai\ a1llw| paradou=nai), or is it something not to be transmitted or taken over from one human being to another (h2 ou0 paradoto\n tou=to a0nqrw&pw| ou0de\ paralhpto\n a1llw| par’ a1llou)? That is the question I and Meno have been discussing all the time (tou=t’ e1stin o4 pa/lai zhtou=men e0gw& te kai\ Me/nwn). Well, just consider it in your way of speaking: would you not say that Themistocles was a good man (w#de ou]n sko/pei e0k tou= sautou= lo/gou ׄ Qe/mistokle/a ou0k a0gaqo\n a2n fai/hj a1ndra gegone/nai;)?

Anytus: I would, particularly so (E!gwge, pa/ntwn ge ma/lista),

Socrates: And if any man ever was a teacher of his own virtue, he especially was a good teacher of his (Ou0kou=n kai\ dida/skalon a0gaqo/n, ei1per tij a1lloj th=j au9tou= a1reth=j dida/skaloj h]n, ka0kei=non ei]nai;)?

Anytus: In my opinion yes (Oi]mai e1gwge), assuming that he wished to be so (ei1per e0bou/leto/ ge).

Socrates: But can you suppose he would not have wished that other people should become good, honourable men (A0ll’, oi]ei, ou0k a2n e0boulh/qh a1llouj te/ tinaj kalou\j ka0gaqou\j gene/sqai) – above all, I presume, his own son (ma/lista de/ pou to\n u9io\n to\n au9tou=)? Or do you think he was jealous of him, and deliberately refused to impart the virtue of his own goodness to him (h2 oi1ei au0to\n fqonei=n au0tw~| kai\ e0cepi/thdej ou0 paradido/nai th\n a0reth/n, h4n au0to\j a0gaqo\j h]n;)? Have you never heard how Themistocles had his son Cleophantus taught to be a good horseman (h2 ou0k a0kh/koaj, o3ti Qemistoklh=j Kleo/fanton to\n ui9o\n i9ppe/a me\n e0dida/cato a0gaqo/n;)? Why, he could keep his balance standing upright on horseback (e0pe/mene gou=n e0pi\ tw~n i3ppwn o0rqo\j e9sthkw&j), and hurl the javelin while so standing (kai\ h0ko/ntizen a0po\ tw~n i3ppwn o0rqo/j), and perform many other wonderful feats (kai\ a1lla polla\ kai\ qaumasta\ ei0rga/zeto) in which his father had had him trained, so as to make him skilled in all that could be learnt from good masters (a4 e0kei=noj au0to\n e0paideu/sato kai\ e0poi/hse sofo/n, o3sa didaska/lwn a0gaqw~n ei1xeto). Surely you must have heard all this from your elders (h2 tau=ta ou0k a0kh/koaj tw~n presbute/rwn;)?

Anytus: I have (A0kh/koa).

Socrates: Then there could be no complaints of badness in his son’s nature (Ou0k a2n a1ra th/n ge fu/sin tou= ui9e/oj au0tou= h|0tia/sat’ a1n tij ei]nai kakh/n)?

Anytus: I daresay not (I!swj ou0k a1n).

Socrates: But I ask you (Ti/ de\ to/de;) – did you ever hear anybody, old or young, say that Cleophantus, son of Themistocles, had the same goodness and accomplishments as his father (w(j Kleo/fantoj o9 Qemistokle/ouj a0nh\r a0gaqo\j kai\ sofo\j e0ge/neto a3per o9 path\r au0tou=, h1dh tou= a0kh/koaj h2 newte/rou h2 presbute/rou;)?

Anytus: Certainly not (Ou0 dh=ta)

Socrates: And can we believe that his father chose to train his own son in those feats, and yet make him no better than his neighbours in his own particular accomplishments – if virtue, as alleged, was to be taught (A]r’ ou]n tau=ta me\n ou]n oi0o/meqa bou/lesqai au0to\n to\n au9tou= ui9o\n paideu=sai, h4n de\ au0to\j sofi/an h]n sofo/j, ou0de\n tw~n geito/nwn belti/w poih=sai, ei1per h]n ge didakto\n h9 a0reth/;)?

Anytus: On my word, I think not (I!swj ma\ Di/’ ou1).

Socrates: Well, there you have a fine teacher of virtue who, you admit, was one of the best men of the past times (Ou[toj me\n dh/ soi toiou/toj dida/skaloj a0reth=j, o4n kai\ su\ o9mologei=j e0n toi=j a1riston tw~n prote/rwn ei]nai). Let us take another (a1llon de\ dh\ skeyw&meqa), Aristeides, son of Lysimachus (A9ristei/dhn to\n Lusima/xou): do you not admit that he was a good man (ׄ h2 tou=ton ou0x o9mologei=j a0gaqo\n gegone/nai;)?

Anytus: I do, absolutely, of course (E!gwge, pa/ntwj dh/pou).

Socrates: Well, did he not train his son Lysimachus better than any other Athenian in all that masters could teach him (Ou0kou=n kai\ ou[toj to\n ui9o\n to\n au9tou= Lusi/maxon, o3sa me\n didaska/lwn ei1xeto, ka/llista A0qhnai/wn e0pai/deusen)? And in the result, do you consider he has turned out better than anyone else (a1ndra de\ belti/w dokei= soi o9touou=n pepoihke/nai;)? You have been in his company, I know (tou/tw| ga/r pou kai\ sugge/gonaj), and you see what he is like (kai\ o9ra|=j oi[o/j e0stin). Or take another example – the splendidly accomplished Pericles (ei0 de\ bou/lei Perikle/a, ou3tw| megaloprepw~j sofo\n a1ndra): he, as you are aware, brought up two sons, Paralus and Xanthippus (oi]sq o3ti du/o u9iei=j e1qreye, Pa/ralon kai\ Ca/nqipon;).

Anytus: Yes (E!gwge).

Socrates: And, you know as well as I, he taught them to be the foremost horsemen of Athens and trained them to excel in music and gymnastics and all else that comes under the head of the arts (Tou/touj me/ntoi, w(j oi]sqa kai\ su/, i9ppe/aj me\n e0di/dacen ou0deno\j xei/rouj A0qhnai/wn kai\ mousikh\n kai\ a0gwni/an kai\ ta]lla e0pai/deusen, o3sa te/xnhj e1xetai, ou0deno\j xei/rouj); and with all that, had he no desire to make them good men (a0gaqou\j de\ a1ra a1ndraj ou0k e0bou/leto poih=sai;)? He wished to, I imagine (dokw~ me/n, e0bou/leto), but presumably it is not a thing one can be taught (a0lla\ mh\ ou0k h]n didakto/n). And that you may not suppose it was only a few of the meanest sort of Athenians who failed in this matter (i3na de\ mh\ o0li/gouj oi1h| kai\ tou\j faulota/touj A0qhnai/wn a0duna/touj gegone/nai tou=to to pra/gma), let me remind you that Thucydides also brought up two sons, Melesias and Stephanus (e0nqumh/qhti o3ti Qoukudi/dhj au] du/o ui9ei=j e1qreye, Melhsi/an kai\ Ste/fanon), and that besides giving them a good general education (kai\ tou/touj e0pai/deuse ta/ te a1lla eu]) he made them the best wrestlers in Athens (kai\ e0pa/laisan ka/llista A0qhnai/wn): one he placed with Xanthias (to\n me\n ga\r Canqi/a| e1dwke), and the other with Eudorus (to\n de\ Eudw&rw|) – masters who, I should think, had the name of being the best exponents of the art (ou[toi de/ pou e0do/koun tw~n to/te ka/llista palai/ein). You remember them, do you not (ׄh2 ou0 me/mnhsai;)?

Anytus, Yes (E!gwge), by hearsay (a0koh=|).

***

Lamb notes: ‘Thucydides (son of Melesias, and no relation of the historian) was an aristocrat of high principle and conservative views who opposed the plans of Pericles for enriching and adorning Athens.

***

Socrates: Well, is it not obvious that this father, would never have spent this money on having his children taught all those things (Ou0kou=n dh=lon o3ti ou[toj ou0k a1n pote, ou[ me\n e1dei dapanw&menon dida/skein, tau=ta me\n e0di/dace tou\j pai=daj tou\j au9tou=), and then would have omitted to teach them at no expense the others that would have made them good men (ou[ de\ ou0de\n e1dei a0nalw&santa a0gaqou\j a1ndraj poih=sai, tau=ta de\ ou0k e0di/dacen), if virtue was to be taught (ei0 didakto\n h]n;)? Will you say that perhaps Thucydides was one of the meaner sort, and had no great number of friends among the Athenians and allies (a0lla\ ga\r i1swj o9 Qoukudi/dhj fau=loj h]n, kai\ ou0k h]san au0tw~| plei=stoi fi/loi A0qhnai/wn kai\ tw~n summa/xwn;)? He, who was of a great house (kai\ oi0ki/aj mega/lhj h]n) and had much influence in our city (kai\ e0du/nato me/ga e0n th=| po/lei) and all over Greece (kai\ e0n toi=j a1lloij E3llhsin), so that if virtue were to be taught (w#ste ei1per h]n tou=to didakto/n) he would have found out the man who was likely to make his sons good (e0ceurei=n a2n o3stij e1mellen au0tou= tou\j ui9ei=j a0gaqou\j poih/sein), whether one of our own people (h2 tw~n e0pixwri/wn tij) or a foreigner (h2 tw~n ce/nwn), were he himself too busy owing to the cares of state (ei0 au0to\j mh\ e0sxo/laze dia\ th\n th=j po/lewj e0pime/leian)! Ah no, my dear Anytus, it looks as though virtue were not a teachable thing (a0lla\ ga/r, w} e9tai=re A1nute, mh\ ou0k h]| didakto\n a0reth/).

Anytus: Socrates (W} Sw&kratej), I consider you are too apt to speak ill of people (r9a|di/wj moi dokei=j kakw~j le/gein a0nqrw&pouj). I, for one, if you will take my advice, would warn you to be careful (e0gw_ me\n ga/r soi sumbouleu/saimi, ei0 e0qe/leij e0moi\ pei/qesqai, eu0labei=sqai): in most cities it is probably easier to do people harm than good (w(j i1swj me\n kai\ e0n a1llh| po/lei r9a|o/n e0sti kakw~j poiei=n a0nqrw&pouj h2 eu]), and particularly in this one (e0n th=||de de\ kai\ pa/nu); I think you know that yourself (oi]mai de\ se\ kai\ au0to\n ei0de/nai).

 

Meno 11

Meno: That is so (E!sti tau=ta): but do you think there are no teachers of virtue (a0ll’ a0reth=j dida/skaloi ou0 dokou=si/ soi ei]nai;)?

Socrates: I must say I have often inquired (Polla/kij gou=n zhtw~n) whether there were any (ei1 tinej ei]en au0th=j dida/skaloi), but for all my pains I cannot find one (pa/nta poiw~n ou0 du/namai eu9rei=n). And yet many have shared the search with me, and particularly those persons whom I regard as best qualified for the task (kai/toi meta\ pollw~n ge zhtw~, kai\ tou/twn ma/lista, ou4j a2n oi1wmai e0mpeirota/touj ei]nai tou= pra/gmatoj). But look, Meno: here, at the very moment (Kai\ dh\ kai\ nu=n, w} Me/nwn) when he was wanted (ei0j kalo/n), we have Anytus sitting down beside us (h9mi=n A1nutoj o3de kaqe/zeto), to take his share in our quest (w{| metadw~men th=j zhth/sewj). And we may well ask his assistance (Ei0ko/twj d’ a2n metadoi=men): for our friend Anytus, in the first place, is the son of a wise and wealthy father Anthemion (A1nutoj ga\r o3de prw~ton me/n e0sti patro\j plousi/ou te kai\ sofou= A0nqemi/wnoj), who became rich not by a fluke or a gift (o4j e0ge/neto plou/sioj ou0k a0po\ tou= au0toma/tou ou0de\ do/ntoj tino/j) – like that man the other day, Ismenias the Theban, who has come into the fortune of a Polycrates (w#sper o9 nu=n ne/wsti ei0lhfw_j ta\ Polukra/tou xrh/mata I)smhni/aj o9 Qhbai=oj) – but as the product of his own skill and industry (a0lla\ th=| au9tou= sofi/a| kthsa/menoj kai\ e0pimelei/a|); and secondly (e1peita), 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\ a1lla ou0x u9perh/fanoj dokw~n ei]nai poli/thj ou0de\ o0gkw&dhj te kai\ e0paxqh/j, a0lla\ ko/smioj te kai\ eu0stalh\j a0nh/r); and further (e1peita), he gave his son a good upbringing and education (tou=ton eu] e1qreyen kai\ e0pai/deusen), as the Athenian people think (w(j dokei= A0qhnai/wn tw~| plh/qei), for they choose him for the highest offices (ai9rou=ntai gou]n au0to\n e0pi\ ta\j megi/staj a0rxa/j). This is the sort of man to whom one may look for help in the inquiry as to whether there are teachers of virtue or not (di/kaion dh\ meta\ toiou/twn zhtei=n a0reth=j pe/ri didaska/louj, ei1t’ ei0si\n ei1te mh/), and who they may be (kai\ oi[tinej). So please Anytus, join with me and your family-friend Meno in our inquiry about this matter (su\ ou]n h9mi=n, w} A1nute, suzh/thson, e0moi/ te kai\ tw~| sautou= ce/nw| Me/nwni tw~|de, peri\ tou/tou tou= pra/gmatoj) – who can be the teachers (ti/nej a2n ei]en dida/skaloi). Consider it thus (w{de de\ ske/yai): if we wanted Meno here to be a good doctor (ei0 bouloi/meqa Me/nwna to/nde a0gaqo\n i0atro\n gene/sqai), to whom should we send him for instruction (para\ ti/naj a2n au0to\n pe/mpoimen didaska/louj)? Would it not be to the doctors (a]r’ ou0 para\ tou\j i0atrou/j;)?

Anytus: Certainly (Pa/nu ge).

Socrates: And if we wanted him to be a good cobbler, should we not send him to cobblers?

Anytus: Yes (Nai/).

Socrates: And in the same way with every other trade (Kai\ ta]lla ou3twj;)?

Anytus: Certainly (Pa/nu ge).

Socrates: Now let me ask you something more about these same instances (W{de dh/ moi pa/lin peri\ tw~n au0tw~n ei0pe/). We should be right, we say, in sending him to the doctors (para\ tou\j i0atrou\j, fame/n, pe/mpontej to/nde, kalw~j a2n e0pe/mpomen) if we wanted him to be a doctor (boulo/menoi i0atro\n gene/sqai). When we say this (a]r’ o3tan tou=to le/gomen), do we mean (to/de le/gomen) that we should be wise in sending him to those (o3ti para\ tou/touj pe/mpontej au0to\n swfronoi=mn a1n) who profess the art (tou\j a0ntipoioume/nouj te th=j te/xnhj) rather than those who do not (ma=llon h2 tou\j mh/), and to those who charge a fee for the particular thing they do (kai\ tou\j misqo\n prattome/nouj e0p’ au0tw~| tou/tw|), as avowed teachers of anyone who wishes to come and learn of them (a0pofh/nantaj au9tou\j didaska/louj tou= boulome/nou i0e/nai te kai\ manqa/nein;)? If these were our reasons, should we not be right in sending him (a[r’ ou0 pro\j tau=ta ble/pontej kalw~j a2n pe/mpoimen;)?

Anytus: Yes (Nai/).

Socrates: And the same would hold in the case of flute-playing, and so on with the rest (Ou0kou=n kai\ peri\ au0lh/sewj kai\ tw~n a1llwn ta\ au0ta\ tau=ta;). What folly, when we wanted to make someone a fluteplayer, to refuse to send him to the professed teachers of the art, who charge a regular fee (pollh\ a1noia/ e0sti boulome/nouj au0lhth/n tina poih=sai para\ me\n tou\j u9pisxnoume/nouj dida/cein th\n texnh\n kai\ misqo\n prattome/nouj mh\ e0qe/lein pe/mpein), and to bother with requests for instruction other people (a1lloij de/ tisi pra/gmata pare/xein, zhtou=nta manqa/nein para\ tou/twn) who neither set up to be teachers nor have a single pupil in that sort of study which we expect him, when sent, to pursue (oi9 mh/te porospoiou=ntai dida/skaloi ei]nai mh/t’ e1stin au0tw~n maqhth\j ou0dei=j tou/tou tou= maqh/matoj, o9 h9mei=j a0ciou=men manqa/nein par’ au0tw~n o4n a2n pe/mpwmen). Do you not consider it would be grossly unreasonable (ou0 pollh/ soi dokei= a0logi/a ei]nai;)?

Anytus: Yes, on my word, I do (Nai\ ma\ Di/a e1moige), and stupid to boot (kai\ a0maqi/a ge pro/j).

Socrates: Quite right (Kalw~j le/geij). And now there is an opportunity of your joining me in a consultation on my friend Meno here (nu=n toi/nun e1xesti/ se met’ e0mou= koinh=| bouleu/esqai peri\ tou= ce/nou toutoui+/ Me/nwnoj). He has been declaring to me ever so long, Anytus (ou[toj ga\r, w} A1nute, pa/lai le/gei pro/j me), that he desires to have that wisdom and virtue (o3ti e0piqumei= tau/thj th=j sofi/aj kai\ a0reth=j) whereby men keep their house or their city in good order (h[| oi9 a!nqrwpoi ta/j te oi0ki/aj kai\ ta\j po/leij eu] dioikou=si), and honour their parents (kai\ tou\j gone/aj tou\j au9tw~n qerapeu/ousi), and know when to welcome and when to speed citizens and strangers (kai\ poli/taj kai\ ce/nouj u9pode/casqai/ te kai\ a0pope/myai e0pi/stantai) as befits a good man (a0ci/wj a0ndro\j a0gaqou=). Now tell me, to whom ought we properly to send him for lessons in this virtue (tau/thn ou]n th\n a0reth\n maqhso/menon sko/pei para\ ti/naj a2n pe/mpontej au0to\n o0rqw~j a2n pe/mpoimen)? Or is it clear enough (h2 dh=lon dh/), from our argument just now (kata\ to\n a1rti lo/gon), that he should go to these men who profess to be teachers of virtue (o3ti para\ tou/touj tou\j u9pisxnoume/nouj a0reth=j dida/skaloi ei]nai) and advertise themselves (kai\ a0pofh/nantej au9tou/j) as the common teachers of the Greeks, and are ready to instruct anyone who chooses in return for fees charged on a fixed scale (koinou\j tw~n E(llh/nwn tw|~ boulome/nw| manqa/nein, misqo\n tou/tou tacame/nouj te kai\ prattome/nouj;)?

Anytus: To whom are you referring (Kai\ ti/naj le/geij tou/touj), Socrates (w} Sw&kratej;)?

Socrates: Surely you know as well as anyone (Oi]sqa dh/pou kai\ su/); they are the men (o3ti ou[toi/ ei0sin) whom people call sophists (ou4j oi9 a1nqrwpoi\ kalou=si sofista/j).

Anytus: For heaven’s sake (H(ra/kleij) hold your tongue (eu0fh/mei), Socrates (w} Sw&kratej). May no kinsman or friend of mine (mhde/na tw~n g’ e0mw~n mh/te oi0kei/wn mh/te filw~n), whether of this city or another (mh/te a0sto\n mh/te ce/non), be seized with such madness (toiau/th mani/a la/boi) as to let himself infected with the company of those men (w#ste para\ tou/toij e0lqo/nta lwbhqh=nai); for they are a manifest plague and corruption (e0pei\ ou[toi/ ge fanera/ e0sti lw&bh te kai\ diafqora\) to those who frequent them (tw~n suggignome/nwn).

Socrates: What is this, Anytus (Pw~j le/geij, w} A1nute;)? Of all the people who set up to understand how to do us good (Ou[toi a1ra mo/noi tw~n a0ntipoioume/nwn ti e0pi/stasqai eu0ergetei=n), 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 (tosou=ton tw~n a1llwn diafe/rousin, o3son ou0 mo/non ou0k w)felou=sin, w#sper oi9 a1lloi, o3 ti a1n tij au0toi=j paradw~|, a/lla\ kai\ to\ e0nanti/on diafqei/rousi;)? And is it for doing this that they openly claim the payment of fees (kai\ tou/twn fanerw~j xrh/mata a0ciou=si pra/ttesqai;)? For my part I cannot bring myself to believe you (e0gw_ me\n ou]n ou0k e1xw o3pwj soi pisteu/sw); for I know of one man, Protagoras, who amassed more money by his craft than Pheidias (oi]da ga\r a1ndra e3na Prwtago/ran plei/w xrh/mata kthsa/menon a0po\ tau/thj th=j sofi/aj h2 Feidi/an te) – so famous for the noble works he produced (o4j ou3tw perifanw~j kala\ e1rga ei0rga/zeto) – or any ten other sculptors (kai\ a1llouj de/ka tw~n a0ndriantopoiw~n). And yet how surprising (kai/toi te/raj le/geij) that menders of old shoes (ei0 oi9 me\n ta\ u9podh/mata e0rgazo/menoi ta\ palaia/) and furbishers of clothes (kai\ ta\ i9ma/tia e0cakou/menoi) should not be able to go undetected thirty days if they should return the clothes or shoes in worse condition than they received them (ou0k a2n du/nainto laqei=n tria/konq’ h9me/raj moxqhro/tera a0podido/ntej h2 pare/labon ta\ i9matia/ te kai\ u9podh/mata), and that such doings on their part (a0ll’ ei0 toiau=ta poioi=en) would quickly starve them to death (taxu\ a2n tw~| limw~| a0poqanoi=en), 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 (Prwtago/raj de\ a1ra o3lhn th\n E#llada e0la/nqane diafqei/rwn tou\j sungignome/nouj kai\ moxqhrote/rouj a0pope/mpwn h2 parela/mbane ple/on h2 tettara/konta e1th)! For I believe he died about seventy years old (oi]mai ga\r au0to\n a0poqanei=n e0ggu\j kai\ e9bdomh/konta e1th gegono/ta), forty of which he spent in practice of his art (tettara/konta de\ e0n th=| te/xnh| o1nta); and he retains undiminished to this day the high reputation he has enjoyed all that time (kai\ e0n a3panti tw~| xro/nw| tou/tw| e1ti ei0j th\n h9me/ran tauthni\ eu0dokimw~n ou0de\n pe/pautai) – and not only Protagoras (kai\ ou0 mo/non Prwtago/raj), but a multitude of others too (a0lla\ kai\ a1lloi pa/mpolloi): some who lived before him (oi9 me\n pro/teron gegono/tej e0kei/nou), and others still living (oi9 de\ kai\ nu=n e1ti o1ntej). Now are we to take it (po/teron dh\ ou]n fw~men), according to you (kata\ to\n so\n lo/gon), that they wittingly deceived (ei0do/taj au0tou\j e0capata=n) and corrupted the youth (kai\ lwba=sqai tou\j ne/ouj), or that they were themselves unconscious of it (h2 lelhqe/nai kai\ au0tou/j)? Are we to conclude those who are frequently termed the wisest of mankind to have been so demented as that (kai\ ou3twj mai/nesqai a0ciw&somen tou/touj, ou3j e1nioi/ fasi sofwta/touj a0nqrw&pwn ei[nai;)?

Anytus: Demented! Not they, Socrates (Pollou= ge de/ousi mai/nesqai, w} Sw&kratej): far rather the young men who pay them money (a0lla\ polu\ ma=llon oi9 tou/toij dido/ntej a0rgu/rion tw~n ne/wn), and still more (tou/twn d’ e1ti ma=llon) the relations who let the young men have their way (oi9 tou/toij e0pitre/pontej, oi9 prosh/kontej); and most of all the cities (polu\ de\ ma/lista pa/ntwn ai9 po/leij) that allow them to enter (e0w&sai au0tou\j ei0safiknei=sqai), and do not expel them (kai\ ou0k e0celau/nousai), whether such attempt be made by stranger or citizen (ei1te tij ce/noj e0pixeirei= toiu=to/n ti poiei=n ei1te a0sto/j).

Socrates: Tell me, Anytus, has any of the sophists wronged you (Po/teron de/, w} A1nute, h0di/khse/ ti/j se tw~n sofistw~n)? What makes you so hard on them (h2 ti/ ou3twj au0toi=j xalepo\j ei];)?

Anytus: No, heaven knows I have never in my life had dealings with any of them (Ou0de\ ma\ Di/a e1gwge sugge/gona pw&pote au0tw~n ou0deni/), nor would I let any of my people have to do with them either (ou0d’ a2n a1llon e0a/saimi tw~n e0mw~n ou0de/na).

Socrates: Then you have absolutely no experience of those persons (A1peiroj a1r’ ei] panta/pasi tw~n a0ndrw~n;)?

Anytus: And trust I never may (Kai\ ei1hn ge).

Socrates: How then, my good sir, can you tell whether a thing has any good or evil in it (Pw~j ou]n a1n, w} daimo/nie, ei0dei/hj peri\ tou/tou tou= pra/gmatoj, ei1te ti a0gaqo\n e1xei e0n e9autw|~ ei1te flau/ron), if you are quite without experience of it (ou[ panta/pasin a1peiroj ei1hj;)?

Anytus: Easily: the fact is, I know what these people are, whether I have experience of them or not (R(a|di/wj ׄ tou/touj gou=n oi]da oi3 ei0sin, ei1t’ ou]n a1peiroj au0tw~n ei0mi\ ei1te mh/).

Socrates: You are a wizard, perhaps, Anytus (Ma/ntij ei] i1swj, w} A1nute); for I really cannot see, from what you say yourself, how else you can know anything about them (e0pei\ o3pwj ge a1llwj oi]sqa tou/twn pe/ri, e0c w{n au0to\j le/geij qauma/zoim’ a1n).