Socrates:
And yet, were you not saying just now that virtue is the desire and power of attaining good?

Meno:

Yes, I did say so.

Socrates:
But if this be affirmed, then the desire of good is common to all, and one man is no better than another in that respect?

Meno:
True.

Socrates:
And if one man is not better than another in desiring good, he must be better in the power of attaining it?

Meno:
Exactly.

Socrates:
Then, according to your definition, virtue would appear to be the power of attaining good?

Meno:
I entirely approve, Socrates, of the manner in which you now view this matter.

Socrates:

Then let us see whether what you say is true from another point of view; for very likely you may be right:-You affirm virtue to be the power of attaining goods?

Meno:
Yes.

Socrates:
And the goods which mean are such as health and wealth and the possession of gold and silver, and having office and honour in the state-those are what you would call goods?

Meno:
Yes, I should include all those.

Socrates:
Then, according to Meno, who is the hereditary friend of the great king, virtue is the power of getting silver and gold; and would you add that they must be gained piously, justly, or do you deem this to be of no consequence? And is any mode of acquisition, even if unjust and dishonest, equally to be deemed virtue?

Meno:
Not virtue, Socrates, but vice.

Socrates:
Then justice or temperance or holiness, or some other part of virtue, as would appear, must accompany the acquisition, and without them the mere acquisition of good will not be virtue.

Meno:
Why, how can there be virtue without these?

Socrates:
And the non-acquisition of gold and silver in a dishonest manner for oneself or another, or in other words the want of them, may be equally virtue?

Meno:
True.

Socrates:
Then the acquisition of such goods is no more virtue than the non-acquisition and want of them, but whatever is accompanied by justice or honesty is virtue, and whatever is devoid of justice is vice.

Meno:
It cannot be otherwise, in my judgment.

Socrates:
And were we not saying just now that justice, temperance, and the like, were each of them a part of virtue?

Meno:
Yes.

Socrates:
And so, Meno, this is the way in which you mock me.

Meno:
Why do you say that, Socrates?

Socrates:
Why, because I asked you to deliver virtue into my hands whole and unbroken, and I gave you a pattern according to which you were to frame your answer; and you have forgotten already, and tell me that virtue is the power of attaining good justly, or with justice; and justice you acknowledge to be a part of virtue.

Meno:
Yes.

Socrates:
Then it follows from your own admissions, that virtue is doing what you do with a part of virtue; for justice and the like are said by you to be parts of virtue.

Meno:
What of that?

Socrates:
What of that! Why, did not I ask you to tell me the nature of virtue as a whole? And you are very far from telling me this; but declare every action to be virtue which is done with a part of virtue; as though you had told me and I must already know the whole of virtue, and this too when frittered away into little pieces. And, therefore, my dear I fear that I must begin again and repeat the same question: What is virtue? for otherwise, I can only say, that every action done with a part of virtue is virtue; what else is the meaning of saying that every action done with justice is virtue? Ought I not to ask the question over again; for can any one who does not know virtue know a part of virtue?

Meno:
No; I do not say that he can.

Socrates:
Do you remember how, in the example of figure, we rejected any answer given in terms which were as yet unexplained or unadmitted?

Meno:
Yes, Socrates; and we were quite right in doing so.

Socrates:
But then, my friend, do not suppose that we can explain to any one the nature of virtue as a whole through some unexplained portion of virtue, or anything at all in that fashion; we should only have to ask over again the old question, What is virtue? Am I not right?

Meno:
I believe that you are.

Socrates:
Then begin again, and answer me, What, according to you and your friend Gorgias, is the definition of virtue?

Meno:
O Socrates, I used to be told, before I knew you, that you were always doubting yourself and making others doubt; and now you are casting your spells over me, and I am simply getting bewitched and enchanted, and am at my wits' end. And if I may venture to make a jest upon you, you seem to me both in your appearance and in your power over others to be very like the flat torpedo fish, who torpifies those who come near him and touch him, as you have now torpified me, I think. For my soul and my tongue are really torpid, and I do not know how to answer you; and though I have been delivered of an infinite variety of speeches about virtue before now, and to many persons-and very good ones they were, as I thought-at this moment I cannot even say what virtue is. And I think that. you are very wise in not voyaging and going away from home, for if you did in other places as do in Athens, you would be cast into prison as a magician.

Socrates:
You are a rogue, Meno, and had all but caught me.

Meno:
What do you mean, Socrates?

Socrates:
I can tell why you made a simile about me.

Meno:
Why?

Socrates:
In order that I might make another simile about you. For I know that all pretty young gentlemen like to have pretty similes made about them-as well they may-but I shall not return the compliment. As to my being a torpedo, if the torpedo is torpid as well as the cause of torpidity in others, then indeed I am a torpedo, but not otherwise; for I perplex others, not because I am clear, but because I am utterly perplexed myself. And now I know not what virtue is, and you seem to be in the same case, although you did once perhaps know before you touched me. However, I have no objection to join with you in the enquiry.

Meno:
And how will you enquire, Socrates, into that which you do not know? What will you put forth as the subject of enquiry? And if you find what you want, how will you ever know that this is the thing which you did not know?

Socrates:
I know, Meno, what you mean; but just see what a tiresome dispute you are introducing. You argue that man cannot enquire either about that which he knows, or about that which he does not know; for if he knows, he has no need to enquire; and if not, he cannot; for he does not know the, very subject about which he is to enquire.

Meno:
Well, Socrates, and is not the argument sound?

Socrates:
I think not.

Meno:
Why not?

Socrates:
I will tell you why: I have heard from certain wise men and women who spoke of things divine that-

Meno:
What did they say?

Socrates:
They spoke of a glorious truth, as I conceive.

Meno:
What was it? and who were they?

Socrates:
Some of them were priests and priestesses, who had studied how they might be able to give a reason of their profession: there, have been poets also, who spoke of these things by inspiration, like Pindar, and many others who were inspired. And they say-mark, now, and see whether their words are true-they say that the soul of man is immortal, and at one time has an end, which is termed dying, and at another time is born again, but is never destroyed. And the moral is, that a man ought to live always in perfect holiness. "For in the ninth year Persephone sends the souls of those from whom she has received the penalty of ancient crime back again from beneath into the light of the sun above, and these are they who become noble kings and mighty men and great in wisdom and are called saintly heroes in after ages." The soul, then, as being immortal, and having been born again many times, rand having seen all things that exist, whether in this world or in the world below, has knowledge of them all; and it is no wonder that she should be able to call to remembrance all that she ever knew about virtue, and about everything; for as all nature is akin, and the soul has learned all things; there is no difficulty in her eliciting or as men say learning, out of a single recollection -all the rest, if a man is strenuous and does not faint; for all enquiry and all learning is but recollection. And therefore we ought not to listen to this sophistical argument about the impossibility of enquiry: for it will make us idle; and is sweet only to the sluggard; but the other saying will make us active and inquisitive. In that confiding, I will gladly enquire with you into the nature of virtue.

Meno:
Yes, Socrates; but what do you mean by saying that we do not learn, and that what we call learning is only a process of recollection? Can you teach me how this is?

Socrates:
I told you, Meno, just now that you were a rogue, and now you ask whether I can teach you, when I am saying that there is no teaching, but only recollection; and thus you imagine that you will involve me in a contradiction.

Meno:
Indeed, Socrates, I protest that I had no such intention. I only asked the question from habit; but if you can prove to me that what you say is true, I wish that you would.

Socrates:
It will be no easy matter, but I will try to please you to the utmost of my power. Suppose that you call one of your numerous attendants, that I may demonstrate on him.

Meno:
Certainly. Come hither, boy.

Socrates:
He is Greek, and speaks Greek, does he not?

Meno:
Yes, indeed; he was born in the house.

Socrates:
Attend now to the questions which I ask him, and observe whether he learns of me or only remembers.

Meno:
I will.

Socrates:
Tell me, boy, do you know that a figure like this is a square? Boy. I do.

Socrates:
And you know that a square figure has these four lines equal? Boy. Certainly.

Socrates:
And these lines which I have drawn through the middle of the square are also equal? Boy. Yes.

Socrates:
A square may be of any size? Boy. Certainly.

Socrates:
And if one side of the figure be of two feet, and the other side be of two feet, how much will the whole be? Let me explain: if in one direction the space was of two feet, and in other direction of one foot, the whole would be of two feet taken once? Boy. Yes.

Socrates:
But since this side is also of two feet, there are twice two feet? Boy. There are.

Socrates:
Then the square is of twice two feet? Boy. Yes.

Socrates:
And how many are twice two feet? count and tell me. Boy. Four, Socrates.

Socrates:
And might there not be another square twice as large as this, and having like this the lines equal? Boy. Yes.

Socrates:
And of how many feet will that be? Boy. Of eight feet.

Socrates:
And now try and tell me the length of the line which forms the side of that double square: this is two feet-what will that be? Boy. Clearly, Socrates, it will be double.

Socrates:
Do you observe, Meno, that I am not teaching the boy anything, but only asking him questions; and now he fancies that he knows how long a line is necessary in order to produce a figure of eight square feet; does he not?

Meno:
Yes.

Socrates:
And does he really know?

Meno:
Certainly not.

Socrates:
He only guesses that because the square is double, the line is double.

Meno:
True.

Socrates:
Observe him while he recalls the steps in regular order. (To the Boy.) Tell me, boy, do you assert that a double space comes from a double line? Remember that I am not speaking of an oblong, but of a figure equal every way, and twice the size of this-that is to say of eight feet; and I want to know whether you still say that a double square comes from double line? Boy. Yes.

Socrates:
But does not this line become doubled if we add another such line here? Boy. Certainly.

Socrates:
And four such lines will make a space containing eight feet? Boy. Yes.

Socrates:
Let us describe such a figure: Would you not say that this is the figure of eight feet? Boy. Yes.

Socrates:
And are there not these four divisions in the figure, each of which is equal to the figure of four feet? Boy. True.

Socrates:
And is not that four times four? Boy. Certainly.

Socrates:
And four times is not double? Boy. No, indeed.

Socrates:
But how much? Boy. Four times as much.

Socrates:
Therefore the double line, boy, has given a space, not twice, but four times as much. Boy. True.

Socrates:
Four times four are sixteen-are they not? Boy. Yes.

Socrates:
What line would give you a space of right feet, as this gives one of sixteen feet;-do you see? Boy. Yes.

Socrates:
And the space of four feet is made from this half line? Boy. Yes.

Socrates:
Good; and is not a space of eight feet twice the size of this, and half the size of the other? Boy. Certainly.

Socrates:
Such a space, then, will be made out of a line greater than this one, and less than that one? Boy. Yes; I think so.

Socrates:
Very good; I like to hear you say what you think. And now tell me, is not this a line of two feet and that of four? Boy. Yes.

Socrates:
Then the line which forms the side of eight feet ought to be more than this line of two feet, and less than the other of four feet? Boy. It ought.

Socrates:
Try and see if you can tell me how much it will be. Boy. Three feet.

Socrates:
Then if we add a half to this line of two, that will be the line of three. Here are two and there is one; and on the other side, here are two also and there is one: and that makes the figure of which you speak? Boy. Yes.

Socrates:
But if there are three feet this way and three feet that way, the whole space will be three times three feet? Boy. That is evident.

Socrates:
And how much are three times three feet? Boy. Nine.

Socrates:
And how much is the double of four? Boy. Eight.

Socrates:
Then the figure of eight is not made out of a of three? Boy. No.

Socrates:
But from what line?-tell me exactly; and if you would rather not reckon, try and show me the line. Boy. Indeed, Socrates, I do not know.

Socrates:
Do you see, Meno, what advances he has made in his power of recollection? He did not know at first, and he does not know now, what is the side of a figure of eight feet: but then he thought that he knew, and answered confidently as if he knew, and had no difficulty; now he has a difficulty, and neither knows nor fancies that he knows.

Meno:
True.

Socrates:
Is he not better off in knowing his ignorance?

Meno:
I think that he is.

Socrates:
If we have made him doubt, and given him the "torpedo's shock," have we done him any harm?

Meno:
I think not.

Socrates:
We have certainly, as would seem, assisted him in some degree to the discovery of the truth; and now he will wish to remedy his ignorance, but then he would have been ready to tell all the world again and again that the double space should have a double side.

Meno:
True.

Socrates:
But do you suppose that he would ever have enquired into or learned what he fancied that he knew, though he was really ignorant of it, until he had fallen into perplexity under the idea that he did not know, and had desired to know?

Meno:
I think not, Socrates.

Socrates:
Then he was the better for the torpedo's touch?

Meno:
I think so.

Socrates:
Mark now the farther development. I shall only ask him, and not teach him, and he shall share the enquiry with me: and do you watch and see if you find me telling or explaining anything to him, instead of eliciting his opinion. Tell me, boy, is not this a square of four feet which I have drawn? Boy. Yes.

Socrates:
And now I add another square equal to the former one? Boy. Yes.

Socrates:
And a third, which is equal to either of them? Boy. Yes.

Socrates:
Suppose that we fill up the vacant corner? Boy. Very good.

Socrates:
Here, then, there are four equal spaces? Boy. Yes.

Socrates:
And how many times larger is this space than this other? Boy. Four times.

Socrates:
But it ought to have been twice only, as you will remember. Boy. True.

Socrates:
And does not this line, reaching from corner to corner, bisect each of these spaces? Boy. Yes.

Socrates:
And are there not here four equal lines which contain this space? Boy. There are.

Socrates:
Look and see how much this space is. Boy. I do not understand.

Socrates:
Has not each interior line cut off half of the four spaces? Boy. Yes.

Socrates:
And how many spaces are there in this section? Boy. Four.

Socrates:
And how many in this? Boy. Two.

Socrates:
And four is how many times two? Boy. Twice.

Socrates:
And this space is of how many feet? Boy. Of eight feet.

Socrates:
And from what line do you get this figure? Boy. From this.

Socrates:
That is, from the line which extends from corner to corner of the figure of four feet? Boy. Yes.

Socrates:
And that is the line which the learned call the diagonal. And if this is the proper name, then you, Meno's slave, are prepared to affirm that the double space is the square of the diagonal? Boy. Certainly, Socrates.

Socrates:
What do you say of him, Meno? Were not all these answers given out of his own head?

Meno:
Yes, they were all his own.

Socrates:
And yet, as we were just now saying, he did not know?

Meno:
True.

Socrates:
But still he had in him those notions of his-had he not?

Meno:
Yes.

Socrates:
Then he who does not know may still have true notions of that which he does not know?

Meno:
He has.

Socrates:
And at present these notions have just been stirred up in him, as in a dream; but if he were frequently asked the same questions, in different forms, he would know as well as any one at last?

Meno:
I dare say.

Socrates:
Without any one teaching him he will recover his knowledge for himself, if he is only asked questions?

Meno:
Yes.

Socrates:
And this spontaneous recovery of knowledge in him is recollection?

Meno:
True.

Socrates:
And this knowledge which he now has must he not either have acquired or always possessed?

Meno:
Yes.

Socrates:
But if he always possessed this knowledge he would always have known; or if he has acquired the knowledge he could not have acquired it in this life, unless he has been taught geometry; for he may be made to do the same with all geometry and every other branch of knowledge. Now, has any one ever taught him all this? You must know about him, if, as you say, he was born and bred in your house.

Meno:
And I am certain that no one ever did teach him.

Socrates:
And yet he has the knowledge?

Meno:
The fact, Socrates, is undeniable.

Socrates:
But if he did not acquire the knowledge in this life, then he must have had and learned it at some other time?

Meno:
Clearly he must.

Socrates:
Which must have been the time when he was not a man?

Meno:
Yes.

Socrates:
And if there have been always true thoughts in him, both at the time when he was and was not a man, which only need to be awakened into knowledge by putting questions to him, his soul must have always possessed this knowledge, for he always either was or was not a man?

Meno:
Obviously.

Socrates:
And if the truth of all things always existed in the soul, then the soul is immortal. Wherefore be of good cheer, and try to recollect what you do not know, or rather what you do not remember.

Meno:
I feel, somehow, that I like what you are saying.

Socrates:
And I, Meno, like what I am saying. Some things I have said of which I am not altogether confident. But that we shall be better and braver and less helpless if we think that we ought to enquire, than we should have been if we indulged in the idle fancy that there was no knowing and no use in seeking to know what we do not know;-that is a theme upon which I am ready to fight, in word and deed, to the utmost of my power.

Meno:
There again, Socrates, your words seem to me excellent.

Socrates:
Then, as we are agreed that a man should enquire about that which he does not know, shall you and I make an effort to enquire together into the nature of virtue?

Meno:
By all means, Socrates. And yet I would much rather return to my original question, Whether in seeking to acquire virtue we should regard it as a thing to be taught, or as a gift of nature, or as coming to men in some other way?

Socrates:
Had I the command of you as well as of myself, Meno, I would not have enquired whether virtue is given by instruction or not, until we had first ascertained "what it is." But as you think only of controlling me who am your slave, and never of controlling yourself,-such being your notion of freedom, I must yield to you, for you are irresistible. And therefore I have now to enquire into the qualities of a thing of which I do not as yet know the nature. At any rate, will you condescend a little, and allow the question "Whether virtue is given by instruction, or in any other way," to be argued upon hypothesis? As the geometrician, when he is asked whether a certain triangle is capable being inscribed in a certain circle, will reply: "I cannot tell you as yet; but I will offer a hypothesis which may assist us in forming a conclusion: If the figure be such that when you have produced a given side of it, the given area of the triangle falls short by an area corresponding to the part produced, then one consequence follows, and if this is impossible then some other; and therefore I wish to assume a hypothesis before I tell you whether this triangle is capable of being inscribed in the circle":-that is a geometrical hypothesis. And we too, as we know not the nature and -qualities of virtue, must ask, whether virtue is or not taught, under a hypothesis: as thus, if virtue is of such a class of mental goods, will it be taught or not? Let the first hypothesis be-that virtue is or is not knowledge,-in that case will it be taught or not? or, as we were just now saying, remembered"? For there is no use in disputing about the name. But is virtue taught or not? or rather, does not everyone see that knowledge alone is taught?

Meno:
I agree.

Socrates:
Then if virtue is knowledge, virtue will be taught?

Meno:
Certainly.

Socrates:
Then now we have made a quick end of this question: if virtue is of such a nature, it will be taught; and if not, not?

Meno:
Certainly.

Socrates:
The next question is, whether virtue is knowledge or of another species?

Meno:
Yes, that appears to be the -question which comes next in order.