Well, there you have a fine teacher of virtue who, you admit, was one of the best men of past times. 94a Let us take another, Aristeides, son of Lysimachus: do you not admit that he was a good man?

I do, absolutely, of course.

Well, did he not train his son Lysimachus better than any other Athenian in all that masters could teach him? And in the result, do you consider he has turned out better than anyone else? You have been in his company, I know, and you see what he is like. Or take another example— 94b the splendidly accomplished Pericles: he, as you are aware, brought up two sons, Paralus and Xanthippus.

Yes.

And, you know as well as I, he taught them to be the foremost horsemen of Athens, and trained them to excel in music and gymnastics and all else that comes under the head of the arts; and with all that, had he no desire to make them good men? He wished to, I imagine, but presumably it is not a thing one can be taught. And that you may not suppose it was only a few of the meanest sort of Athenians who failed in this matter, 94c let me remind you that Thucydides’¹ also brought up two sons, Melesias and Stephanus, and that besides giving them a good general education he made them the best wrestlers in Athens: one he placed with Xanthias, and the other with Eudorus—masters who, I should think, had the name of being the best exponents of the art. You remember them, do you not?

Yes, by hearsay.

Well, is it not obvious that this father would never have spent his money on having his children taught all those things, 94d and then have omitted to teach them at no expense the others that would have made them good men, if virtue was to be taught? Will you say that perhaps Thucydides was one of the meaner sort, and had no great number of friends among the Athenians and allies? He, who was of a great house and had much influence in our city and all over Greece, so that if virtue were to be taught he would have found out the man who was likely to make his sons good, whether one of our own people 94e or a foreigner, were he himself too busy owing to the cares of state! Ah no, my dear Anytus, it looks as though virtue were not a teachable thing.

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; 95a I think you know that yourself.²

Meno, I think Anytus is angry, and I am not at all surprised: for he conceives, in the first place, that I am speaking ill of these gentlemen; and in the second place, he considers he is one of them himself. Yet, should the day come when he knows what “speaking ill” means, his anger will cease; at present he does not know.³ Now you must answer me: are there not good and honorable men among your people also?

Certainly.

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

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

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

I should say not, Socrates.

Well, and what of the sophists? Do you consider these, its only professors, 95c to be teachers of virtue?

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

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

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

And are you aware that not only you and other political folk 95d are in two minds as to whether virtue is to be taught, but Theognis the poet also says, you remember, the very same thing?

In which part of his poems?

In those elegiac lines where he says—Eat and drink with these men; sit with them, and be pleasing unto them, who wield great power; for from the good wilt thou win thee lessons in the good; but mingle with the bad, 95eand thou wilt lose even the sense that thou hast.⁴Do you observe how in these words he implies that virtue is to be taught?

He does, evidently.

But in some other lines he shifts his ground a little, saying—Could understanding be created and put into a man⁵ (I think it runs thus) many high rewards would they obtain 96afor he would have followed the precepts of wisdom: but not by teaching wilt thou ever make the had man good⁶ You notice how in the second passage he contradicts himself on the same point?

Apparently.

Well, can you name any other subject in which the professing teachers are not only refused recognition as teachers of others, but regarded as not even understanding it themselves, 96b and indeed as inferior in the very quality of which they claim to be teachers; while those who are themselves recognized as men of worth and honor say at one time that it is teachable, and at another that it is not? When people are so confused about this or that matter, can you say they are teachers in any proper sense of the word?

No, indeed, I cannot.

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

I agree.

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

I think that statement is true.

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

We have.

So nowhere are any teachers of virtue to be found?

That is so.

And if no teachers, then no disciples?

So it appears.

Hence virtue cannot be taught?

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

I fear, Meno, you and I are but poor creatures, and Gorgias has been as faulty an educator of you as Prodicus of me. So our first duty is to look to ourselves, and try to find somebody who will have some means or other of making us better. 96e I say this with special reference to our recent inquiry, in which I see that we absurdly failed to note that it is not only through the guidance of knowledge that human conduct is right and good; and it is probably owing to this that we fail to perceive by what means good men can be produced.

To what are you alluding, Socrates?

I mean that good men must be useful: we were right, were we not, in admitting that 97a this must needs be so?

Yes.

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

Yes.

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

What do you mean by that?

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

Certainly.

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

Certainly.

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

Just as good.

Hence true opinion is as good a guide to rightness of action as knowledge; and this is a point we omitted just now in our consideration of the nature of virtue, 97c when we stated that knowledge is the only guide of right action; whereas we find there is also true opinion.

So it seems.

Then right opinion is just as useful as knowledge.

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

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

It appears to me that he must; and therefore I wonder, Socrates, 97d this being the case, that knowledge should ever be more prized than right opinion, and why they should be two distinct and separate things.

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

Please tell me.

It is because you have not observed with attention the images of Daedalus.⁷ But perhaps there are none in your country.

What is the point of your remark?

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

Well, what of that?