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Platos Dialogues of Definition Causal and Conceptual Investigations 1St Edition Justin C Clark All Chapter
Platos Dialogues of Definition Causal and Conceptual Investigations 1St Edition Justin C Clark All Chapter
Platos Dialogues of Definition Causal and Conceptual Investigations 1St Edition Justin C Clark All Chapter
Plato’s Dialogues
of Definition
Causal and Conceptual Investigations
Justin C. Clark
Department of Philosophy
Hamilton College
Clinton, NY, USA
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Acknowledgements
This book was written in many places, as I moved around to various aca-
demic positions. I have been fortunate with friends and colleagues in phi-
losophy along the way. I want to thank the Philosophy Department at the
University of California, Santa Barbara. I am grateful to my mentor Voula
Tsouna, for her willingness to comment on so many drafts and chapters,
for her dedicated instruction, and her genuine love of ancient philosophy.
I am grateful to Tom Holden, another generous mentor, and a steady
source of professional encouragement. A significant portion of this book
was written at the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign, where I
encountered many gifted interlocutors. Many thanks to Kirk Sanders,
friend and mentor, for several conversations about Plato, and useful feed-
back on material from Euthyphro, Gorgias, and Republic, all of which
helped galvanize the project in its early stages, to Dan Korman for his
guidance and enthusiasm throughout the process, to Shelley Weinberg
and Helga Varden for their friendship and professional support. I am
grateful to my colleagues at Utah State University, especially Charlie
Huenemann and Jason Gilmore for providing feedback on early drafts of
certain chapters. I received help from three additional philosophers at cru-
cial stages in the process. Special thanks to Matt Griffin for helping me
through the weeds of Chaps. 2 and 3, to Daniel Graham for his acute
feedback on material from Chaps. 2 and 4, and for his workshops in
ancient philosophy, which proved an enormous help during my time in
Utah. Similar gratitude is owed to Nicholas D. Smith, an ongoing source
of inspiration as a Socratic scholar, and a profound professional help along
the way. His West Coast Plato Workshop (2020) on the Lysis was
v
vi ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Many years ago, three teachers at the University of Iowa sparked a love
of philosophy, and inspired a fascination with the dialogues of Plato. I am
eternally grateful to Jay Holstein, Professor and J.J. Mallon Teaching
Chair in Judaic Studies, Thomas Williams, Professor of Philosophy and
Catholic Studies, and James Duerlinger, Professor of Philosophy. Last but
not least, this book would not have been possible without the greatest
support of all, the support I receive every day from my wife Rachael, and
my daughter, Nora.
Contents
1 Introduction 1
Bibliography191
Index199
vii
CHAPTER 1
Introduction
Socrates inquired what is justice and what is courage and what is each of vir-
tue’s parts. And it is understandable that he should have done so. For he
thought the virtues were all forms of knowledge… Eud. Ethics 1216b2-9
Socrates, however, was occupying himself with the moral virtues, having
been the first to search for universal definitions of them… Metaphysics
1078b16-19
1
Scholars are not unanimous as to which dialogues belong on the list, but there is a wide-
spread agreement about the majority of works that belong. For more on this, see Nails
(1995: 58–52).
2
All translations of Aristotle are from Johnathan Barnes (1984).
3
See Mem. 1.1.16: ‘The problems Socrates discussed were, What is godly, what is ungodly;
What is beautiful, what is ugly; What is just, what is unjust; What is prudent, what is madness;
What is courage, what is cowardice; What is a state, what is a statesman; What is government;
and what is a governor;—these and others like them, of which knowledge made a ‘gentle-
man’, in his estimation, while ignorance should involve the reproach of ‘slavishness”.
(Marchant trans.)
4 J. C. CLARK
the early dialogues of Plato, reserving ‘the historical Socrates’ for those
occasions in which I intend to discuss the historical figure.4
The Apology occupies a unique role in my study. As a representation of
the speech purportedly given by the historical Socrates during his trial, the
Apology offers the closest approximation to the historical Socrates. More
importantly for our purposes, however, the Apology contains a clear state-
ment from Socrates concerning the nature of his activity. Socrates describes
his philosophical mission like this: ‘I was always concerned with each of
you, approaching you like a father or an elder brother to persuade you to
care for virtue’ (31b).5 ‘Virtue’ here refers collectively to the various excel-
lences in human character. Five canonical virtues are examined in the early
dialogues—piety, courage, temperance, justice, and wisdom. Socrates also
describes the ‘care for virtue’ as a concern for ‘the very best state of one’s
soul’, as he urges his fellow Athenians to prioritize virtue above the more
common concerns of personal wealth, status, and reputation (30b). This
was Socrates’ chief admonition to everyone he encountered, that they
should care for their souls above all other things. The soul (psyche ̄) is that
by which we live. And, for Socrates, properly caring for the soul requires a
certain kind of knowledge (episte ̄me ̄). Virtue lies in the possession of this
knowledge, which enables the virtuous person to live well (eu prattein)
both in relation to herself and in relation to others. In fact, this is one
major theme unifying our family of dialogues. In the early dialogues of
Plato, Socrates is concerned primarily with questions related to virtue and
happiness.
Five dialogues are constructed around instances of the ‘What is F?’
question, where the value supplied by F is a virtue. The Euthyphro is con-
structed around the question ‘What is piety?’ It depicts Socrates on his
4
I am operating under what Brickhouse and Smith (2010: 13–17) call the ‘Philosophical
Identity Principle’, that Socrates is ‘the same character, with essentially the same philosophi-
cal views, in each of a certain group of dialogues by Plato’. This principle is weaker than the
‘General Historical Identity Thesis’, that Socrates is depicted by Plato in a way that allows us
to form a generally reliable picture (though ‘not absolutely accurate in every detail’) of who
the historical Socrates was, and how he conducted his philosophical activity. I also accept this
stronger thesis, but will not provide a defense here; nothing I argue will depend upon it
being true. For a useful explanation, see Brickhouse and Smith (2010: 11–42), with whom I
am in general agreement. My approach is inspired by Vlastos (1991) as well. The burden of
proof, I believe, lies with those who would reject the General Historical Identity Thesis; not
with those who accept it.
5
All translations of Plato’s texts are my own, adapted from Cooper (1997), unless ascribed
otherwise.
1 INTRODUCTION 5
way to the courthouse for his indictment, where he falls into conversation
with a priest, a self-proclaimed expert concerning the gods. Similarly, in
the Laches, Socrates investigates courage with two proven war generals.
In the Charmides, he investigates temperance with a promising youth
recognized for temperate behavior. In the Meno, he investigates virtue
with a student of rhetoric who claims to have ‘given many fine speeches
to large audiences’ concerning virtue (80b). In the Republic, he investi-
gates justice with a rhetorician and moral skeptic. These are the dialogues
of definition. There are two additional dialogues that appear to be struc-
tured around a ‘What is F?’ question. The Lysis investigates the nature of
friendship, while the Hippias Major explores the nature of the beautiful
or the fine (kalon). In total, then, seven early dialogues are recognized as
definitional.
1.3 The Elenchus
The early dialogues are artistic, dramatic, ironic, playful, and historical.
But most of all, they are philosophical. They showcase Socrates as their
central character, portrayed throughout as philosopher and moral educa-
tor. In each case, Socrates is placed in conversation with a non-philosopher.
Dramatic details are woven into the fabric of the dialogue around the
conversation, serving to enhance the artistry and enrich the philosophical
content. The dialogue form serves many purposes for Plato. It serves,
among other things, as a suitable platform for displaying the method of his
teacher. The ‘What is F?’ question is the starting point for this controver-
sial philosophical method, commonly referred to as the Socratic elenchus.6
The rules of the elenchus are as follows. There is one designated ques-
tioner, one designated answerer. Socrates shows a willingness to answer,
but typically occupies the role of questioner. After a brief prologue, the
‘What is F?’ question is raised by Socrates, thus launching an investigation
into a topic the interlocutor is supposed to have knowledge about.
Sometimes the interlocutor is a sophist, or a self-proclaimed expert on
matters related to F-ness;7 other times, the interlocutor is merely suspected
of having such knowledge. In either case, Socrates expects the interlocutor
to answer honestly, to say what they actually believe.8 To begin, the inter-
locutor proposes a definition, claiming that ‘F-ness is X’. Sometimes,
Socrates will seek to clarify the definition, in order to undermine the defi-
nition with a counterexample. Other times, Socrates will proceed to secure
agreement to additional claims related to F-ness. When enough of these
6
This is the Latinization of the Greek elenchos, which means ‘refutation’, or sometimes
‘examination’. Socrates admits that he is ‘refuting’ his interlocutor (Charmides 166c-d). But
Socrates rarely describes his own activity in this way. He often describes himself as inquiring,
searching, or investigating (skopō, diaskopō, zte ̄tō, erōtō, sketomai, etc.).
7
In the fifth century BCE, sophistry emerged as a new profession. Sophists were profes-
sional teachers who toured the Greek world offering instruction in return for a fee— instruc-
tion on a wide range of subjects, with particular emphasis on rhetoric, and various techniques
in adversary debate (eristic). They claimed to impart to their students a skill in public speak-
ing and the successful conduct of life. The upper class’s reception of sophistry is character-
ized, by Plato at least, as a symptom of a more general moral lethargy, a pervasive
anti-philosophical set of values. The members of the upper class employ sophists above all for
rhetorical training in order to win the approval of the people. Insofar as they seek political
power through public approval, however, they often ignore the proper role of leadership and
education.
8
See Euthyphro 9d7-8; Crito 49c11-d1; Protagoras 331c4-d1; Republic I 349a4-8; Gorgias
458a1-b1, 495a5-9, 499b-c, 500b5-c1.
1 INTRODUCTION 7
You say A, and [Socrates] shows you that A implies B, and B implies C, and
then he asks ‘But didn’t you say D before? And doesn’t C contradict D?’
And there he leaves you with your shipwrecked argument, without so much
as telling you what part of it, if any, can be salvaged. His tactics seem
unfriendly from the start. Instead of trying to pilot you around the rocks, he
picks one under water a long way ahead where you will never suspect it and
then makes sure you get all the wind you need to run full-sail into it and
smash your keel upon it.10
In the following pages, I take up the view Grote says he cannot take.
Despite their negative endings, I believe the early dialogues contain posi-
tive answers. In order to detect the positive theory of virtue lying below
the surface of these texts, I believe we must recognize something subtle
about the ‘What is F?’ question. We must recognize what I call its ‘dual
function’. This is the central thesis of my project. The ‘What is F?’ ques-
tion serves as a springboard for two distinct types of investigation into
F-ness. In defending the dual-function thesis, I am opposing a main-
stream assumption about the ‘What is F?’ question.
Scholars typically assume that Socrates is looking for a single type of
answer across dialogues. Let’s call this the standard interpretation. The
standard interpretation assumes that Socrates is asking the ‘What is F?’
question univocally across dialogues; in each dialogue where the ‘What is
F?’ question is raised, Socrates is requesting the same type of answer.
There is significant disagreement, of course, as to what type of answer
11
See also, Guthrie (1975) and more recently Wolfsdorf (2008).
12
Grote (1865: 292–299).
1 INTRODUCTION 9
13
There are a few exceptions. Richard Robinson (1941) argues that there is a duality built
into the ‘What is F?’ question, but the two senses he has in mind are different from mine.
David Charles (2006) argues that there are two distinct inquiries emerging from the ‘What
is virtue?’ question in the Meno. Lastly, although he takes the ‘What is F?’ question to be a
metaphysical question in all cases, David Wolfsdorf (2005) observes some important differ-
ences in the criteria surrounding ‘What is F?’ questions, including the language used to
express those criteria. I take the textual evidence in a different direction, but my project has
benefitted from each of these scholarly contributions.
10 J. C. CLARK
1.5 Chapter Overview
In the next chapter, I provide some useful background information for
understanding the dual-function thesis and the broader interpretive debate
concerning Socratic inquiry. I then introduce the dual-function thesis,
illustrating the distinction, and focusing on relevant passages. Socrates
rarely offers examples of the type of answer he wants in response to his
‘What is F?’ question. But a proper examination of the context surround-
ing the few examples he does provide (Meno 76a; Laches 192a-b) will
reveal that the ‘What is F’ question serves these two functions. In some
dialogues, the ‘What is F?’ question serves as a conceptual question. In
other dialogues, it serves as a causal question. The conceptual investiga-
tion into F-ness can be distinguished from the causal investigation by
identifying the distinct technical vocabularies associated with each investi-
gation. Sometimes, in raising the ‘What is F?’ question, Socrates asks
explicitly about the essence (ousia) of F-ness. Other times, in raising the
‘What is F?’ question, he asks explicitly about the capacity (dunamis) of
F-ness. This strategic framing of the ‘What is F’ question—the consistent
use of two distinct technical vocabularies—indicates that there are two
distinct types of investigations into F-ness. There are other important indi-
cators as well. For example, Socrates employs a substitution requirement
(the requirement that two co-referring expressions should be inter-
substitutable) to signal the conceptual investigation, and he employs the
acquisition-question as a precursor to the causal investigation.
In Chap. 3, I consider the unity of the virtues. For many years, this
thesis has been a thorn in the side of scholars. The unity thesis presents an
apparently intractable interpretive puzzle.14 Socrates sometimes suggests
that the many virtues are ‘distinct parts of a single whole’ (see Laches
14
This puzzle led me to investigate the ‘What is F?’ question in the first place. Early on, I
had an intuition that Plato’s Socrates was advancing a coherent position concerning the rela-
tion among virtues. As I followed this theme throughout my studies, I became increasing
enamored by the artistry of Plato, and simultaneously intrigued by the philosophy of
Socrates. It seemed to me that Plato, in his artistic brilliance, was weaving certain dialogues
together into a literary whole, in much same way Socrates had bound the virtues together
into a unity within his philosophy. Thus, I grew increasingly eager to explore the artistry, and
to see for myself what Socratic position would come to light there. In particular, it was my
encounters with the work of interpreters like Gregory Vlastos and Terry Penner on this issue
that made me realize the gravity of the ‘What is F?’ question—namely, that in order to under-
stand the early dialogues, and to uncover the Socratic position that lay buried there, I had to
confront the ‘What is F?’ question head-on.
1 INTRODUCTION 11
190c9-11, Meno 78d-e), other times he suggests that the virtues are all
‘one and the same thing’ (see Protagoras 331b). At face value, these sug-
gestions are logically incompatible. By attributing to Socrates two distinct
levels of investigation, however, we can make sense of Socrates’ remarks.
The dual-function thesis yields an interpretation that corroborates a solu-
tion first articulated by Michael Ferejohn (1982, 1984), and then devel-
oped by Thomas Brickhouse and Nicholas Smith (1997, 2010). My own
solution, though distinct, falls squarely within this family of reconciliation
solutions. On my reading, Socrates is suggesting that the many virtues are
conceptually distinct ‘parts’, even though they refer to a single causal
power (dunamis) in the soul.
Chapter 4 will consider Socrates’ epistemic principle—a principle
known as the ‘priority of definition’. This principle implies that an agent
cannot know any properties or examples of F without knowing first how
to define ‘F’. The priority of definition was famously criticized by Peter
Geach, who called it the ‘Socratic fallacy’. Geach (1966) argued that we
can know ‘heaps of things’ without being able to define our terms in a
precise way. As typically understood, the priority of definition is not only
unintuitive, it presents a problem for Socrates’ approach. Socrates’ own
method appears to make use of properties and examples of F-ness while
pursuing a definition of ‘F’. Thus, there is a palpable tension between
Socrates’ epistemic principle and his philosophical method. By attributing
to Socrates two distinct levels of investigation, however, the priority of
definition divides neatly into two distinct and respectable principles, thus
resolving the tension.
If indeed Socrates has a coherent method and a positive theory, why
then do the dialogues of definition always end in failure? And why does
Socrates continually profess ignorance? In Chap. 5, these questions find
answers from within the present framework. The dual-function thesis
divides the epistemic process of developing moral knowledge into two
separate stages. This adds a level of complexity to Socratic epistemology.
One result is that Socrates has a merely conceptual knowledge (Meno,
100b4-6), since he has ascended to the first epistemological level, but not
the second. Socrates knows which conceptual answers tend to survive phil-
osophical scrutiny, but he is unable to give a complete causal account of
how things fit together. For this reason, he must continue securing his
system of virtue-related beliefs.
The dialogues of definition end in failure for a variety of instructive
reasons related to the epistemological process outlined above. The
12 J. C. CLARK
References
Allen, R.E. 1970. Plato’s Euthyphro and the Earlier Theory of Forms. New York:
Humanity Press.
Barnes, J. 1984. The Complete Works of Aristotle. Vol. 1 and 2. Princeton
University Press.
Brickhouse, T.C., and N.D. Smith. 1994. Plato’s Socrates. Oxford University Press.
———. 1997. Socrates and the Unity of Virtues. The Journal of Ethics 4: 311–324.
———. 2010. Socratic Moral Psychology. New York: Cambridge University Press.
Charles, D. 2006. Types of Definition in Meno. In Remembering Socrates, ed.
L. Judson and V. Karasmanis. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Cooper, J.M. 1997. Plato’s Complete Works. Indianapolis: Hackett.
Ferejohn, Michael. 1982. The Unity of Virtue and the Objects of Socratic Inquiry.
Journal of the History of Philosophy 20 (1): 1–21.
———. 1984. Socratic Virtue as Parts of Itself. Philosophy and Phenomenological
Research. 44 (3): 377–388.
Forster, M. 2006. Socrates’ Demand for Definition. Oxford Studies in Ancient
Philosophy 31: 1–47.
Geach, P. 1966. Plato’s Euthyphro. Monist 50 (3): 369–382.
Grote, G. 1865. Plato and Other Companions of Sokrates (1st ed.; 1988, 3rd ed.).
London: Murray.
Guthrie, W.K.C. 1975. History of Greek Philosophy, Vol. 4: Plato: The Man and his
Dialogues: Earlier Period. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Kraut, R. 1984. Socrates and the State. Princeton University Press.
Nails, D. 1995. Agora, Academy, and the Conduct of Philosophy. Kluwer Academic
Publishing.
Penner, T. 1973. The Unity of Virtue. Philosophical Review 80 (1): 35–68.
Robinson, Richard. 1941. Plato’s Method of Dialectic. Philosophical Review
50 (5): 542.
Vlastos, G. 1976. What Did Socrates Understand by His What Is F? Question? In
Platonic Studies, ed. G. Vlastos. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
———. 1991. Socrates, Ironist and Moral Philosopher. Ithaca: Cornell
University Press.
———. 1995. In Studies in Greek Philosophy, ed. D. Graham, vol. 2. Princeton:
Princeton University Press.
Wolfsdorf, David. 2005. ΔΥΝΑΜΙΣ in Laches. Pheonix 9 (3/4): 324–347.
———. 2008. Trials of Reason. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Woodruff, P. 1982. Plato: ‘Hippias Major’. Indianapolis: Hackett.
CHAPTER 2
1
For a useful exchange, see Charles (2006) and Fine (2010).
‘What [Socrates] is doing is investigating what justice is; and this is a com-
prehensible task, one undertaken in books like Rawls’s A Theory of Justice,
but one not usefully described as giving a definition of justice’.3
Kraut agrees. In raising the ‘What is F?’ question, Socrates is not looking
for a definition. He is looking instead for a moral principle. After all,
according to Kraut, one could give, if one wanted to ‘the fundamental
kernel of Rawl’s theory in a fairly short statement…[and] similarly for
Utilitarianism’.4 On this reading, then, Socrates is looking for an answer
2
For a useful discussion of this, see Benson (2013).
3
Annas (1981: 23).
4
Kraut (1984: 282).
2 THE DUAL-FUNCTION THESIS 17
Of course, [Socrates] differs from Kant and Mill, since he believes that
knowledge of the correct ethical theory will by itself motivate virtuous
action: that is why Socrates’ search for an ethical theory is at the same time
a search for a virtuous person’s motive-force.
5
This is the interpretation of Penner and Rowe (1994: 1–25), that one cannot desire bad
things, even when one takes them to be good. The real good is always the object of one’s
desire. Thus, whenever an agent has a false belief about what is best for them, they do not
(strictly speaking) desire to perform the action they perform as a result of their mistaken
belief. On the other side of the debate is Gerasimos Santas (1979), who holds instead that,
for Socrates, bad things are sometimes desired by those who think they are good, even
though the bad things are never the intended objects of their desires.
18 J. C. CLARK
by which or in virtue of which holy things are holy (6d); and that it is
capable of real or essential definition (11a, 12c-d). These assumptions con-
stitute a theory of Forms… Logically, Forms play a regulative role in dialec-
tic: as antecedents of ‘it’ in the question ‘What is it?’ they determine the
kinds of answer which are acceptable, and more importantly, unacceptable,
in Socrates’ search for definition…Metaphysically, Forms affect the career of
the world: they are the real natures of things, and the world is what it is
because they are what they are.6
For Allen, in asking the ‘What is F?’ question, Socrates is pursuing a state-
ment that captures the metaphysical Form of F-ness. These ontologically
independent entities are the real objects of Socratic inquiry, even in the
early dialogues. My reasons for rejecting the metaphysical interpretation
will surface as I examine specific passages. But allow me to highlight one
reason here. Aristotle draws a contrast between Socrates’ pursuit of defini-
tions, which issues from the ‘What is F?’ question, and Plato’s metaphysi-
cal theory of Forms, which ‘gave them a separate existence’.
When Socrates was occupying himself with the excellences of character, and
in connection with them became the first to raise the problem of universal
definition….[he] did not make the universals or the definitions exist apart;
they however [those who follow Plato], gave them separate existence, and
this was the kind of thing they called Forms. Metaphysics, XIII, 1078b, 18.
Socrates gave the impulse to this theory [of Forms], as we said in our earlier
discussion, by reason of his definitions, but he did not separate universals
from individuals; and in this he thought rightly, in not separating them.
Metaphysics, XIII, 1086b, 2
6
Allen (1970: 67–68).
20 J. C. CLARK
Platonic—in these dialogues, we are dealing with Plato’s Socrates, not the
historical figure Aristotle describes. It seems, therefore, that any decisive
evidence against the metaphysical reading will have to come from the early
dialogues themselves. In subsequent chapters, I find occasion to discuss
textual evidence that Socrates is not pursuing metaphysically distinct
Forms. I also explain how the search for definitions in the early dialogues
can be understood as ‘giving the impulse’ to Plato’s later theory. As it hap-
pens, then, the interpretation I defend is mildly developmentalist. On my
view, the early dialogues embody a Socratic position; later dialogues
embody a recognizably Platonic system, which includes the theory of
Forms.7 For those inclined toward a more Unitarian view of the Platonic
corpus, this should not be a deal-breaker. My interpretation will include
an account of how the search for definition effectively paves the way for
various positions in later Platonic thought.
7
For a defense of the separation between Socratic and Platonic dialogues, see Penner (1992).
8
This is how J.L. Mackie (1977: 19–20) explains the relevance of the distinction between
conceptual and factual analysis. What Mackie refers to as factual analysis, I will refer to as
‘causal’ analysis.
2 THE DUAL-FUNCTION THESIS 21
made more clearly with regard to colors. For instance, John Locke
describes colors as ‘secondary qualities’. As they occur in material things,
colors consist in ‘patterns of arrangement and movement of minute par-
ticles on the surfaces of objects, which make them, as we would now say,
reflect light of some frequencies better than others, and so enable these
objects to produce colour sensations in us, but colours as we see them do
not literally belong to the surfaces of material things’.9 Locke provides an
account of how colors fit into the causal network of the world—an account
that cannot be established by analyzing color concepts, or investigating
meanings.
The distinction between causal and conceptual analysis appears to moti-
vate various disagreements about Socrates and his ‘What is F?’ question.
Michael Forster (2006) has argued that, in raising the ‘What is F?’ ques-
tion, Socrates wants a simple statement of meaning. He is pursuing an
‘informative synonym’, a statement anyone must know ‘in order to under-
stand the definienda’.10 On this view, the ‘What is F?’ question is a concep-
tual question—a request for conceptual analysis, which prompts an
investigation into the meaning (as opposed to the reference) of ‘F’. Let us
call this the conceptual interpretation. Michael Forster joins Gregory
Vlastos (1972) in defending the conceptual interpretation against Terry
Penner (1973).11 According to Penner,
…that question is not a request for the meaning of the word …, but rather
a request for a psychological account (explanation) of what it is in men’s
psychēs that makes them brave. For the ‘What is F?’ question is often put {by
Socrates} as ‘What is that single thing by virtue of which (with or by which)
the many F things are F?’; and I will be arguing that that too is a causal or
explanatory question rather than an epistemological or semantic one.12
For Penner, the ‘What is F?’ question is a causal question—a request for a
more scientific explanation of how virtues fit into the causal network of
the world. In raising the ‘What is F?’ question, Socrates wants a causal
account of what goes on in the psychē of the virtuous person.13 This type
9
Ibid., p. 20.
10
See Forster (2006: 1–47).
11
The conceptual interpretation is also defended by Cross (1965: 27–29).
12
Penner (1973: 56–57).
13
See Penner (1973: 41, 45, 56–57). For another proponent of the casual interpretation,
see Bluck (1951).
22 J. C. CLARK
14
Penner (1973: 86–87).
15
Breuer and Freud (2004: 2).
16
Ryle (1949: 83–85), my emphasis.
2 THE DUAL-FUNCTION THESIS 23
17
Socrates, it seems, would prefer the more general answer covering all cases of virtue,
though he also admits that he may not be able to provide many answers of this kind. See
Meno 76d-77b.
24 J. C. CLARK
Protagoras and the Laches. In what follows, therefore, I argue that the
‘What is F?’ question serves these two separate functions. The key to
understanding any dialogue of definition is to determine which question
(conceptual or causal) Socrates is asking. I propose a way to do just that.
The conceptual investigation can be distinguished from the causal investi-
gation by identifying the distinct technical vocabularies associated with
each type of investigation. I believe Plato was aware of the distinction; he
chose to have his character Socrates use separate vocabularies consistently
and strategically, as a way to signal the two distinct investigations into
virtue. In addition, he employs the acquisition-question as a clear precur-
sor to the causal investigation, just as he employs a ‘substitution require-
ment’ in the context of the conceptual investigation. These additional
indicators also help us decipher between causal and conceptual investiga-
tions. Table 2.1 illustrates the two respective branches of the dual-
function thesis.
I will begin with the example(s) put forward in the Meno. The Meno is
a complex dialogue, which happens to exhibit both types of investigation.
In the following section, I establish that the ‘What is F?’ question is a con-
ceptual question in the Meno and Euthyphro. I then examine the Meno and
the Protagoras, in order to establish that the ‘What is F?’ question is some-
times a causal question.
Table 2.1
What is F?
The first answer, A1, is endorsed by Socrates (76e), who indicates that it
is somehow better (beltiōn) than the second answer, A2. Proponents of the
conceptual interpretation tend to focus (almost exclusively) on the first
example. By all appearances, A1 is a conceptual answer about the meaning
of figure (schēma). This example lacks the scientific or mechanistic com-
plexity of a causal account. Of course, the same cannot be said for A2,
which is endorsed by Meno. Thus, both types of answers—conceptual and
causal—find endorsement in the dialogue. But let us begin by discussing
Socrates’ endorsement of A1.20
Socrates’ preferred example is a conceptual answer concerning figure
(schēma). Not only does A1 have the appearance of a simple statement of
meaning, there is additional evidence throughout the dialogue that
Socrates is conducting conceptual analysis. When Meno fails in his first
attempt to provide a satisfactory answer about virtue, Socrates explains
19
One previous example, namely, that ‘figure (schema)̄ is that which, alone of the things
that are, always accompanies color’ (75b10) is rejected by both Socrates and Meno.
Commentators often draw a connection between this answer and Euthyphro’s answer that
piety is ‘what all the gods love’. I discuss Euthyphro’s answer below. In the Euthyphro,
Socrates considers the answer to be a step in the right direction, but rejects it as a mere pathos.
20
Some readers may question whether A1 is a simple statement of the meaning. As a
default, I have been translating the Greek term sche ̄ma as ‘figure’. It is usually rendered ‘fig-
ure’ or ‘shape’, yet these traditional renderings give rise to difficulties. For example, ‘shape’
can be understood either two-dimensionally or three-dimensionally. I am in agreement with
Dominic Scott, who has made a convincing case for translating schema ̄ in this context as
‘surface’. Once we accept this plausible yet non-traditional translation for schema,̄ it becomes
evident that A1 is a simple statement of meaning. See Scott (2006: 5–45). See also Forster
(2006: 27).
2 THE DUAL-FUNCTION THESIS 27
E1 …this is not what I asked you, to tell me one or two of the many pious
acts, but to tell the form (to eidos), by which all pious things are pious …give
me what this form is that I may keep my eye fixed upon it and employ it as
a model (paradeigmati), if anything you or anyone else does agrees with it,
may say that the act is pious, and if not, that it is impious. (Euthyphro 6e)
Socrates is asking for the form (eidos) common to all pious things. He is
pursuing the distinctive feature of both pious acts and pious persons (7a).23
Euthyphro nearly succeeds with his third attempt—he claims that piety is
‘what all the gods love’. This brief statement appears to capture all and
only instances of pious acts and pious persons. It is neither too broad nor
too narrow. For this reason, Euthyphro’s attempt cannot be rejected by
counterexample, as so many answers to the ‘What is F?’ question are. It is
rejected for the following reason instead:
21
The second criterion requires that an answer serve as a model, or paradeigma, for deter-
mining whether an action is virtuous. Kraut’s (1984) interpretation of the ‘What is F?’ ques-
tion is based primarily on this criterion.
22
Translations of the Meno and Euthyphro are my own, adapted from G.A. Grube in
Cooper (1997).
23
In the Euthyphro, an emphasis is placed on pious acts, since Socrates is evaluating
Euthyphro’s action of prosecuting his own father.
28 J. C. CLARK
E2 Euthyphro, it seems that when you were asked what piety is you were
unwilling to make clear its essence (ousian dēlōsai), but you mentioned
something that has happened to (pathos) this piety, namely, that it is loved
by the gods. What it is, you have not said. (Euthyphro 11a-b)
Thus, the vocabulary used to describe the investigation into piety is the
same as the vocabulary used in the Meno. In both dialogues, an answer to
the ‘What is F?’ question should make clear the essence (ousia) of F-ness.
But we should wonder what exactly Socrates means by requesting the
essence of F-ness. For starters, the search for essence (ousia) appears to be
part of Socrates’ search for a definition. At 9c8-d5, Socrates reveals that he
is looking for a definition of some sort, saying ‘… we saw just now that
piety and its opposite are not defined (ou horismena) in this way…?’ The
verb horizō (or horizesthai) serves as a convenient verb of definition—to
mark out the boundaries of a word or concept.24 This happens to be one
of the few places in which Socrates employs definitional vocabulary. In one
way or another, then, the distinction in E2 is meant to provide important
information concerning the features of an adequate definition. In what
follows, I want to argue that Socrates is pursuing a nominal or conceptual
essence in these dialogues.
As we have seen, Euthyphro’s answer satisfies the condition of exten-
sional equivalence. Socrates appears to concede that all and only pious
things are loved by the gods at 9c-d.25 In traditional logic, however, we
distinguish between the extension and the intension of a term. The ‘exten-
sion’ indicates the set of objects picked out by the term, whereas the
‘intension’ indicates the internal description under which it picks them
out. By requesting the essence (ousia) in E2, Socrates is requesting some-
thing like the intension of ‘piety’.26 It is the distinction between pathos and
24
Having emended the definition so that piety is ‘what all the gods love’, Plato puts the
verb of definition back into Socrates’ mouth: ‘Do you wish this now to be our definition
(he ̄min hōristhai)…’ When referring to these boundaries, Plato occasionally uses the term
horos. Aristotle would later coin his own technical term for definition, horismos, from these
words, and he does so in a way that links the notion of essence to that of definition. As
Aristotle explains, ‘a definition (horismos) is an account (logos) that signifies an essence
(ousia)’. See Topics 102a1.
25
Socrates implicitly concedes co-extension at 9c2-d5 and 11b1-5.
26
It may be helpful here to borrow an example from Quine, as some commentators do.
According to Quine, even if all and only those creatures with a heart are creatures with a
kidney, it still does not follow, and is indeed false to suppose that ‘creature with a kidney’
means the same thing as, or defines ‘creature with a heart’. Allen (1970: 50–55).
2 THE DUAL-FUNCTION THESIS 29
27
In this respect, I am in agreement with Kahn (1996: 175). Speaking of E2, he says Plato
‘draws a line between the condition of extensional equivalence, which Euthyphro’s definition
satisfies, and the criterion of intensional content or ‘meaning’, which it does not. And Plato’s
notion of intensional content is made quite precise in the argument by which Euthyphro is
refuted’. We should not be surprised if the Platonic Socrates differs from Aristotle on the
nature of essences (ousiai). Essences for Aristotle are things in the natural world. By request-
ing the essence, I am suggesting Socrates is seeking something more like a nominal essence.
Thus, the present interpretation constitutes a departure from Woodruff (1976), who takes
Socrates to (always) be searching for real definitions or essences.
28
My claim is that Socratic ‘definitions’ state the meaning of the term ‘F’ by providing an
intensionally equivalent expression, or an informative synonym. Sameness in ‘meaning’ here
appears to involve sameness in cognitive significance, but it is worth noting that Socrates may
not have had a fully developed theory of meaning either. As Forster observes, we must also
keep in mind that ‘concepts of meaning and understanding vary subtly from period to
period, culture to culture, and even individual to individual’. Forster (2006, footnote 63).
Forster points out that Socrates might not have possessed the concept of meaning that we
possess, especially considering that (for Socrates) the statement of meaning must capture the
so-called ‘form’ of ‘F’. Unlike Forster, I doubt that Plato (as author of the Euthyphro) has any
metaphysics of meaning in mind. Plato’s Socrates requires that a definition describe the eidos,
but it does not appear to me that Socrates is using eidos in the technical way suggestive of the
metaphysical theory of Forms we find in later works. Thus, I will not be describing this as a
metaphysical search.
30 J. C. CLARK
Notice that the primary intension does not tell us what the chemical make-
up of water is. It remains neutral on the question of whether the dominant
clear, drinkable liquid in our environment turns out to be H2O, or some-
thing else entirely. The primary intension therefore specifies how the refer-
ence of ‘water’ will depend on the way certain (scientific) details turn out
(with regard to that liquid) in the actual world. But the primary intension
does not itself depend on those details.29
Of course, the primary intension of a concept may involve some degree
of deference to a linguistic community. To some extent, my concept ‘F’
might pick out what those around me call F’s. For this reason, it is plau-
sible that competent speakers will have some initial grasp, at least, of the
primary intension. But the initial grasp will be imperfect. After all, the
general conditions that must be met for something to qualify as F will
often be extremely vague, especially at the edges of a concept. Thus, the
primary intension of ‘F’ will not always be obvious, nor easily discovered
upon reflection. Discovering the primary intension of ‘F’ may require a
great deal of reflection; and one’s immediate answer might be incorrect.
The remainder of this section seeks to achieve greater precision about
what Socrates is looking for when he requests the essence of F-ness. A word
of warning seems appropriate: this section, along with the next (Sects. 2.7
and 2.8), will require an extra dose patience. In these sections, I introduce
a series of technical distinctions necessary for understanding the central
arguments of the Euthyphro. Some of them have been relegated to end-
notes; but others remain crucial to the dual-function interpretation mov-
ing forward. These two sections aim to establish that (for Plato’s Socrates)
the primary intension of ‘F’ is integral to making clear the essence (ousia)
of ‘F’. In both Euthyphro and Meno, where Socrates is pursuing the essence
of F-ness, the object of Socratic inquiry is a primary intension. In the
Euthyphro, E2 teaches us that Socrates is pursuing an expression of just
this kind. To be more precise, however, a primary intension can also be
described as an informative synonym—a synonym articulated by means
of words, each of which signifies a concept other than that being defined
(Forster 2006: 27). Socrates provides a useful example in the Laches. He
defines ‘fear’ as ‘the expectation of future evil’ (198b 6-8). This would
qualify as an informative synonym.30 An answer of this kind can be con-
trasted with an expression like ‘dread’, which (although synonymous)
29
For further discussion, see David Chalmers (1996: 11–71).
30
Incidentally, this definition is given in the Protagoras as well (358d).
2 THE DUAL-FUNCTION THESIS 31
would not be informative in the relevant sense.31 This explains why the
synonym ‘holy’ (eusebes) is never given as definition of ‘piety’—although
synonymous, it is uninformative.
I am suggesting, therefore, that Socrates is pursuing an informative
synonym when he requests the essence (ousia) of F-ness. By framing the
‘What is F?’ question as a request for the essence of F, Socrates is conduct-
ing conceptual analysis. This hypothesis draws support from the argument
by which Euthyphro is refuted. The upshot of the argument is that
Euthyphro’s definition does not explain what makes something an instance
of ‘piety’. When Socrates asks whether pious things are loved by the gods
because they are pious, or whether pious things are pious because they are
loved by the gods, Euthyphro replies that it is precisely because pious
things are pious that the gods love them. Or, to put Euthyphro’s answer
another way, the gods love pious things because they are pious. Socrates
then represents Euthyphro’s definition with the adjectival form, theophiles,
‘god-beloved’ (the pious is what is god-beloved). At this point, Euthyphro’s
definition of piety runs into a substitution failure. It turns out that substi-
tuting ‘god-beloved’ for ‘pious’ changes the truth-value of Euthyphro’s
previous admission. For although it is true that the gods love pious things
precisely because they are pious, it is not true that the gods love god-
beloved things precisely because they are god-beloved. If ‘pious’ and ‘god-
beloved’ were the same (tauton), says Socrates, these two terms would be
mutually substitutable, salva veritate (without change in truth value).
Both Socrates and Euthyphro accept the ‘substitution requirement’.
At present, I wish to establish that the substitution requirement is an indi-
cator that Socrates is conducting a conceptual investigation. The substitu-
tion requirement resembles Leibniz’s principle that two co-referring
expressions will survive substitution (salva veritate) in any context. As
Peter Geach (1966) points out, however, this principle holds good only for
extensional contexts, not for non-extensional contexts. A non-extensional
context is a context in which the extension is not all that matters in deter-
mining truth value. The ‘because’ in Euthyphro’s admission renders the
31
It is important to note in passing that ‘informative’ here introduces a certain kind of
asymmetry. Take any two intensionally equivalent expressions A and B. If A defines B, it will
not be the case that B defines A. Although ‘unmarried adult male’ might serve as an adequate
definition for ‘bachelor’, since it is informative in the relevant way, ‘bachelor’ will not serve
as an adequate definition for ‘unmarried adult male’. Note also that not every ‘F’ will admit
of a causal analysis. With the present example of ‘bachelor’, it is not clear what a causal analy-
sis would consist in. That being said, however, Socrates does think causal and conceptual
analysis can both be applied to the virtues.
32 J. C. CLARK
32
I am therefore in agreement with the majority of commentators who hold that this is the
‘because’ of reasons or rational basis. See Evans (2012: 17); Geach (1966: 379–80); Cohen
(1971: 16–7,173–5); Thom (1978: 68).
33
Geach (1966) illustrates this point using the following pair of statements:
(i) ‘I hit him because he was the man who had just hit me’, and
(ii) ‘I hit him because he was my father’.
Imagine the following (unfortunate) scenario: The man who just hit Sam happens to be
Sam’s father. As we shall see, in this scenario, a substitution of the two extensionally equiva-
lent expressions (‘the man who just hit Sam’ and ‘Sam’s father’) cannot be allowed. For
suppose that the very reason Sam had for hitting some person, was simply the fact that (i) ‘he
was the man who had just hit me’. It certainly does not follow from this that Sam also struck
the person because he was Sam’s father, (ii). The fact that the person happened to be Sam’s
father might not have registered in Sam’s rationale at all (as, for instance, if Sam did not real-
ize the man was his father). Or again, the fact might have registered to Sam as a defeasible
reason against striking him. In either case, it is clear from Geach’s example that a substitution
of extensionally equivalent terms cannot be allowed in such a context. Importantly, however,
the substitution of intensionally equivalent terms can be allowed. And the same holds for our
context in the Euthyphro. Consider the following pair:
Socrates concedes that the terms ‘pious’ and ‘god-beloved’ are extensionally equivalent.
And yet, a substitution cannot be allowed unless the expressions are intensionally equivalent,
which they are not. As in the previous case, the rationale on the basis of which the gods love
something x will depend upon the concept under which the gods are thinking of x. Thus, the
inference from (iii) to (iv) is not a safe inference. As it turns out, the substitution requirement
is acceptable only if the expressions involved are intensionally equivalent. By employing the
substitution requirement, therefore, Socrates appears to be looking for an intensionally
equivalent expression—an informative synonym.
2 THE DUAL-FUNCTION THESIS 33
34
If we were to accept the causal interpretation of the ‘What is F?’ question in the
Euthyphro, the substitution requirement would be very poorly placed, presenting a major
problem for the argument. Allow me to illustrate. Suppose, for example, that a causal answer
to the question ‘What is water?’ is that ‘water is H2O’—this provides the chemical make-up
of water, where hydrogen bonding causes its many unique properties. Now suppose Thales
understands the term ‘water’ by grasping the primary intension, a simple statement of mean-
ing. Thus, he thinks of water as ‘the dominant clear drinkable liquid in our environment’.
Finally, suppose Thales believes that the world is made of water. In this case, we cannot infer
that Thales also believes that the world is made of H2O, since these two extensionally equiva-
lent expressions (‘water’ and ‘H2O’) are not mutually substitutable salva veritate. Once
again, the present context happens to be non-extensional. The statement ‘Thales believes the
world is made of H2O’ is concept-sensitive (since it concerns Thales’ beliefs). The truth value
of this statement will therefore depend upon the concept under which Thales is thinking of
water. As we know, however, Thales could not have been thinking of water as H2O. The
chemical make-up of water had not yet been discovered in Thales’ time.
Here’s another example. Suppose now that a causal answer to the question ‘What is the
sound of the middle C?’ happens to be ‘that which oscillates at 260 Hz’. Suppose also that the
gods love the sound of the middle C, because it’s the sound of the middle C. It cannot be
safely inferred from this that the gods love the sound of the middle C because it oscillates at
260 Hz. These extensionally equivalent expressions are not mutually substitutable salva veri-
tate. Once again, the ‘because’ of rational-basis renders the context non-extensional. Thus,
the truth-value of the statement ‘the gods love the sound the sound of the middle C because
it oscillates at 260 Hz’ will depend upon the concept under which the gods are loving that
sound. In fact, even if the gods know the sound of the middle C happens to oscillate at 260
Hz, that cognitive association might not explain why the gods harbor an attitude of love
toward the sound. As Matthew Evans (2012: 17–19) points out, ‘they might love it under
the qualitative concept, and not under the quantitative concept’. This is meant to show that
the causal interpretation does not fit with the context of the Euthyphro.
35
Suppose a conceptual answer to the question ‘What is a clock?’ is that a clock is ‘a device
for measuring time which indicates hours and minutes’ (an informative synonym). Now sup-
pose the gods love the clock on the wall because it is a clock. In this case, it is acceptable to
infer that the gods love the clock on the wall because it is a device for measuring time which
indicates hours and minutes. Intensionally equivalent expressions, in this context, will survive
substitution (salva veritate). For a more detailed defense of this, see Forster (2006), esp.
footnote 69.
34 J. C. CLARK
I have chosen to focus on (a), since the context in (a) is so clearly non-
extensional. But something should be said about (b). After all, the
‘because’ in statement (b) cannot be read as the ‘because’ of rational
basis. For this reason, it might appear that Socrates is equivocating on
‘because’. Such equivocation would pose a problem for Socrates’ argu-
ment. Upon closer inspection, however, the equivocation dissolves. For
the ‘because’ in statement (b) is the ‘because’ of conceptual ground. In
other words, the ‘because’ in statement (b) has the force of introducing
logically necessary and sufficient conditions for using the expression, or
applying the concept, or calling something ‘god-beloved’. Thus, state-
ment (b) can be interpreted as follows: ‘a logically necessary and suffi-
cient condition for applying the term “god-beloved” to a thing x is that x
is loved by all the gods’. This statement is true. The term ‘god-beloved’
does apply to a thing x whenever x is loved by all the gods. Notice that
the conditions provided in this statement are informative—the definiens
amounts to an informative synonym. It can be used to instruct someone
in the use of the expression ‘god-beloved’. This is precisely the kind of
answer Socrates is pursuing. However, the substitution in this case fails.
When ‘pious’ is substituted for ‘god-beloved’ we get a different definien-
dum, and the substitution results in the following claim: ‘a logically nec-
essary and sufficient condition for applying the term “pious” to a thing is
that it is loved by all the gods’. This statement is rejected by Socrates and
Euthyphro, thus confirming that ‘god-beloved’ and ‘pious’ are not
2 THE DUAL-FUNCTION THESIS 35
36
A similar reading is defended by Cohen (1971), with whom I am largely in agreement.
There is perhaps one point of disagreement, however. For I would add to Cohen’s reading
that the definitions being sought are not symmetrical. See n.38.
37
This makes the present context different from the example of the middle C above, since
we are informed as to which concept earns the god’s love.
38
This point is made convincingly by Judson (2010: 41).
36 J. C. CLARK
39
Most commentators resist reading the ‘because’ in statement (b) in terms of material cau-
sation. Causation requires two temporally distinct facts A and B, one which precedes the other.
Yet the examples Socrates uses to illustrate the force of ‘because’ in statement (b) involve pas-
sive and active voices in such statements as ‘X is in the state of being carried because there is
something carrying X’, etc. These statements are best understood as involving two different
descriptions of a single fact, rather than two temporally distinct facts. Alternatively, we might
read the ‘because’ in statement (b) as a ‘because’ of metaphysical-explanation. On this view,
Socrates is pursuing the property picked out by ‘pious’, in order to compare it to the property
picked out by ‘god-beloved’. If this were the case, statement (b) would imply that the posses-
sion of the property (god-beloved) by an object is metaphysically grounded in the fact that the
gods are loving it. This interpretation of (b) is acceptable (though it may result in an exten-
sional context). That being said, however, Socrates also expects the answer to survive substitu-
tion in the context of statement (a). And this statement will be difficult for the metaphysical
interpretation to explain. Sharvy (1972) suggests that Socrates is pursuing something like an
Aristotelian formal cause. In doing so, Sharvy abandons the ‘because’ of rational basis in state-
ment (a) supporting a ‘because’ of formal causation instead. On this reading of (a), a thing’s
being ‘pious’ is thought to provide the formal cause of its being loved by the gods. This solves
the problem of equivocation, but produces a relatively unintuitive reading of (a) in comparison
with that of rational basis. Still, Sharvy’s position helps explain the force behind the ‘because’
in (b). I am sympathetic to Sharvy’s explanation. I read ‘because’ similarly, since I contend that
Socrates is pursuing an informative synonym, and this results in an asymmetry. Thus, not only
does the ‘because’ of conceptual ground provide the reason why a thing x actually counts as a
genuine instance of ‘pious’ or ‘god-loved’, but the ‘because’ also provides an analysis of the
definiendum. This is enough to explain the force of ‘because’ in (b). It has roughly the same
force as Sharvy’s reading. Yet Sharvy’s reading of (a) is less than optimal. It is worth noting that
Judson (2010) retains the ‘because’ of rational basis in (a), but abandons substitutivity. I think
it’s clear Socrates is employing a substitution requirement in the argument. Yet I am also struck
by how close some metaphysical-explanation readings come to my own view of the matter.
Judson (2010: 49) and Sharvy (1972: 125) themselves recognize the close relationship
between their metaphysical interpretations and Cohen’s conceptual reading. In the end, there
is not very much space between some versions of the metaphysical interpretation and the con-
ceptual reading advanced here.
40
One additional observation should support the fact that Socrates is raising a conceptual
question here. Eventually, Euthyphro answers (13b5-7) that piety is ‘that which provides a
kind of service to the gods’, though he is unable to identify the result of this ‘service’. When
Euthyphro gives up, Socrates claims that Euthyphro was ‘on the very brink’ of providing a
satisfactory answer (14c1). This attempt fits the profile of an informative synonym best; it
does not have the mechanistic complexity of a causal explanation. See Taylor (1982:
110–113).
2 THE DUAL-FUNCTION THESIS 37
saying ‘I would stay, Socrates, if you would tell me many such answers’.
Meno wants a causal account of virtue. And he wants it now.
In his commentary, Michael Forster (2006: 24) notes correctly that
Socrates goes out of his way to contrast A2 unfavorably with A1. But he
is wrong to assert that Socrates ‘makes fun’ of A2, and equally wrong to
suggest that Socrates is ‘not at all impressed by “high-falutin” answers’ of
this kind. The text does not support Forster’s position on A2. Let us
examine Socrates’ response:
Prior to this, the second example was said to be given ‘in the manner of
Gorgias’.41 It is described as ‘theatrical’ (tragikē).42 This is not a ringing
endorsement. By describing A2 in this way, Socrates is claiming that such
answers are the preference of Sophists, who want to make a showy display
of their sophistication to the public. A causal answer is much more likely
to impress a lay audience than a simple statement of meaning. But despite
any criticisms Socrates might have for the Sophists and their predilection
for lofty answers, Socrates does include the A2-type answer among possi-
ble answers to his ‘What is F?’ question. And a close examination will
reveal that Socrates is far from ‘making fun’ of the causal answer in A2.
Does each of [the virtues] also have its own specific capacity (dunamis)?
With the parts of a face, for example, the eye is not like the ears, nor is its
capacity (dunamis) the same. And with the other parts, none is like any
other, either in its capacity or in any other way. Is that how it is with the
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a water-closet; by some horrid drain; by proximity to a pig-sty; by an
overflowing privy, especially if vegetable matter be rotting at the
same time in it; by bad ventilation, or by contagion. Diphtheria may
generally be traced either to the one or to the other of the above
causes; therefore let me urgently entreat you to look well into all
these matters, and thus to stay the pestilence! Diphtheria might long
remain in a neighborhood if active measures be not used to
exterminate it.
210. Have the goodness to describe the symptoms of Measles?
Measles commences with symptoms of a common cold; the patient
is at first chilly, then hot and feverish; he has a running at the nose,
sneezing, watering and redness of the eyes, headache, drowsiness, a
hoarse and peculiar ringing cough, which nurses call “measle-
cough,” and difficulty of breathing. These symptoms usually last
three days before the eruption appears; on the fourth it (the
eruption) generally makes its appearance, and continues for four
days and then disappears, lasting altogether, from the
commencement of the symptoms of cold to the decline of the
eruption, seven days. It is important to bear in mind that the
eruption consists of crescent-shaped—half-moon-shaped—patches;
that they usually appear first about the face and the neck, in which
places they are the best marked; then on the body and on the arms;
and, lastly, on the legs, and that they are slightly raised above the
surface of the skin. The face is swollen, more especially the eyelids,
which are sometimes for a few days closed.
Well, then, remember, the running at the nose, the sneezing, the
peculiar hoarse cough, and the half-moon-shaped patches, are the
leading features of the disease, and point out for a certainty that it is
measles.
211. What constitutes the principal danger in Measles?
The affection of the chest. The mucous or lining membrane of the
bronchial tubes is always more or less inflamed, and the lungs
themselves are sometimes affected.
212. Do you recommend “surfeit water” and saffron tea to throw
out the eruption in Measles?
Certainly not. The only way to throw out the eruption, as it is
called, is to keep the body comfortably warm, and to give the
beverages ordered by the medical man, with the chill off. “Surfeit
water,” saffron tea, and remedies of that class, are hot and
stimulating. The only effect they can have, will be to increase the
fever and the inflammation—to add fuel to the fire.
213. What is the treatment of Measles?
What to do.—The child ought to be confined both to his room and
to his bed, the room being kept comfortably warm; therefore, if it be
winter time, there should be a small fire in the grate; in the summer
time, a fire would be improper. The child must not be exposed to
draughts; notwithstanding, from time to time, the door ought to be
left a little ajar in order to change the air of the apartment; for proper
ventilation, let the disease be what it may, is absolutely necessary.
Let the child, for the first few days, be kept on a low diet, such as
on milk and water, arrow-root, bread and butter, etc.
If the attack be mild, that is to say, if the breathing be not much
affected (for in measles it always is more or less affected), and if
there be not much wheezing, the acidulated infusion of roses’
mixture[228] will be all that is necessary.
But suppose that the breathing is short, and that there is a great
wheezing, then, instead of giving him the mixture just advised, give
him a teaspoonful of a mixture composed of ipecacuanha wine,
syrup, and water,[229] every four hours. And if, on the following day,
the breathing and the wheezing be not relieved, in addition to the
ipecacuanha mixture, apply a tela vesicatoria, as advised under the
head of inflammation of the lungs.
When the child is convalescing, batter puddings, rice, and sago
puddings, in addition to the milk, bread and butter, etc., should be
given; and, a few days later, chicken, mutton-chops, etc.
The child ought not, even in a mild case of measles, and in
favorable weather, to be allowed to leave the house under a fortnight,
or it might bring on an attack of bronchitis.
What NOT to do.—Do not give either “surfeit water” or wine. Do not
apply leeches to the chest. Do not expose the child to the cold air. Do
not keep the bedroom very hot, but comfortably warm. Do not let the
child leave the house, even under favorable circumstances, under a
fortnight. Do not, while the eruption is out, give aperients. Do not,
“to ease the cough,” administer either emetic tartar or paregoric—the
former drug is awfully depressing; the latter will stop the cough, and
will thus prevent the expulsion of the phlegm.
214. What is the difference between Scarlatina and Scarlet Fever?
They are, indeed, one and the same disease, scarlatina being the
Latin for scarlet fever. But, in a popular sense, when the disease is
mild, it is usually called scarlatina. The latter term does not sound so
formidable to the ears either of patients or of parents.
215. Will you describe the symptoms of Scarlet Fever?
The patient is generally chilly, languid, drowsy, feverish, and
poorly for two days before the eruption appears. At the end of the
second day, the characteristic, bright scarlet efflorescence, somewhat
similar to the color of a boiled lobster, usually first shows itself. The
scarlet appearance is not confined to the skin; but the tongue, the
throat, and the whites of the eyes put on the same appearance; with
this only difference, that on the tongue and on the throat the scarlet
is much darker; and, as Dr. Elliotson accurately describes it,—“the
tongue looks as if it had been slightly sprinkled with Cayenne
pepper.” The eruption usually declines on the fifth, and is generally
indistinct on the sixth day; on the seventh it has completely faded
away. There is usually, after the first few days, great itching on the
surface of the body. The skin, at the end of the week, begins to peel
and to dust off, making it look as though meal had been sprinkled
upon it.
There are three forms of scarlet fever,—the one where the throat is
little, if at all affected, and this is a mild form of the disease; the
second, which is generally, especially at night, attended with
delirium, where the throat is much affected, being often greatly
inflamed and ulcerated; and the third (which is, except in certain
unhealthy districts, comparatively rare, and which is VERY
dangerous), the malignant form.
216. Would it be well to give a little cooling, opening physic as
soon as a child begins to sicken for Scarlet Fever?
On no account whatever. Aperient medicines are, in my opinion,
highly improper and dangerous both before and during the period of
the eruption. It is my firm conviction that the administration of
opening medicine, at such times, is one of the principal causes of
scarlet fever being so frequently fatal. This is, of course, more
applicable to the poor, and to those who are unable to procure a
skillful medical man.
217. What constitutes the principal danger in Scarlet Fever?
The affection of the throat, the administration of opening medicine
during the first ten days, and a peculiar disease of the kidneys ending
in anasarca (dropsy), on which account, the medical man ought,
when practicable, to be sent for at the onset, that no time may be lost
in applying proper remedies.
218. How would you distinguish between Scarlet Fever and
Measles?
Measles commences with symptoms of a common cold; scarlet
fever does not. Measles has a peculiar hoarse cough; scarlet fever has
not. The eruption of measles is in patches of a half-moon shape, and
is slightly raised above the skin; the eruption of scarlet fever is not
raised above the skin at all, and is one continued mass. The color of
the eruption is much more vivid in scarlet fever than in measles. The
chest is the part principally affected in measles, and the throat in
scarlet fever.
There is an excellent method of determining, for a certainty,
whether the eruption be that of scarlatina or otherwise. I myself
have, in several instances, ascertained the truth of it: “For several
years M. Bouchut has remarked in the eruption of scarlatina a
curious phenomenon, which serves to distinguish this eruption from
that of measles, erythema, erysipelas, etc., a phenomenon essentially
vital, and which is connected with the excessive contractability of the
capillaries. The phenomenon in question is a white line, which can
be produced at pleasure by drawing the back of the nail along the
skin where the eruption is situated. On drawing the nail, or the
extremity of a hard body (such as a pen-holder), along the eruption,
the skin is observed to grow pale, and to present a white trace, which
remains for one or two minutes, or longer, and then disappears. In
this way the diagnosis of the disease may be very distinctly written
on the skin; the word ‘Scarlatina’ disappears as the eruption regains
its uniform tint.”[230]
219. Is it of so much importance, then, to distinguish between
Scarlet Fever and Measles?
It is of great importance, as in measles the patient ought to be kept
moderately warm, and the drinks should be given with the chill off;
while in scarlet fever the patient ought to be kept cool—indeed, for
the first few days, cold; and the beverages, such as spring water, toast
and water, etc., should be administered quite cold.
220. What is the treatment of Scarlet Fever?[231]
What to do.—Pray pay particular attention to my rules, and carry
out my directions to the very letter—as I can then promise you that if
the scarlet fever be not malignant, the plan I am about to
recommend will, with God’s blessing, be generally successful.
What is the first thing to be done? Send the child to bed; throw
open the windows, be it winter or summer, and have a thorough
ventilation; for the bedroom must be kept cool, I may say cold. Do
not be afraid of fresh air, for fresh air, for the first few days, is
essential to recovery. Fresh air, and plenty of it, in scarlet fever, is
the best doctor a child can have: let these words be written legibly on
your mind.[232]
Take down the curtains of the bed; remove the valances. If it be
summer time, let the child be only covered with a sheet: if it be
winter time, in addition to the sheet, he should have one blanket over
him.
Now for the throat.—The best external application is a barm and
oatmeal poultice. How ought it to be made, and how applied? Put
half a teacupful of barm into a saucepan, put it on the fire to boil; as
soon as it boils take it off the fire, and stir oatmeal into it, until it is of
the consistence of a nice soft poultice; then place it on a rag, and
apply it to the throat; carefully fasten it on with bandage, two or
three turns of the bandage going round the throat, and two or three
over the crown of the head, so as nicely to apply the poultice where it
is wanted—that is to say, to cover the tonsils. Tack the bandage: do
not pin it. Let the poultice be changed three times a day. The best
medicine is the acidulated infusion of roses, sweetened with syrup.
[233]
It is grateful and refreshing, it is pleasant to take, it abates fever
and thirst, it cleans the throat and tongue of mucus, and is peculiarly
efficacious in scarlet fever; as soon as the fever is abated it gives an
appetite. My belief is that the sulphuric acid in the mixture is a
specific in scarlet fever, as much as quinine is in ague, and sulphur in
itch. I have reason to say so, for, in numerous cases, I have seen its
immense value.
Now, with regard to food.—If the child be at the breast, keep him
entirely to it. If he be weaned, and under two years old, give him milk
and water, and cold water to drink. If he be older, give him toast and
water, and plain water from the pump, as much as he chooses; let it
be quite cold—the colder the better. Weak black tea, or thin gruel,
may be given, but not caring, unless he be an infant at the breast, if
he take nothing but cold water. If the child be two years old and
upwards, roasted apples with sugar, and grapes will be very
refreshing, and will tend to cleanse both the mouth and the throat.
Avoid broths and stimulants of every kind.
When the appetite returns, you may consider the patient to be
safe. The diet ought now to be gradually improved. Bread and butter,
milk and water, and arrow-root made with equal parts of new milk
and water, should for the first two or three days be given. Then a
light batter or rice pudding may be added, and in a few days
afterward, either a little chicken or a mutton-chop.
The essential remedies, then, in scarlet fever, are, for the first few
days—(1) plenty of fresh air and ventilation, (2) plenty of cold water
to drink, (3) barm poultices to the throat, and (4) the acidulated
infusion of roses’ mixture as a medicine.
Now, then, comes very important advice. After the first few days,
probably five or six, sometimes as early as the fourth day, watch
carefully and warily, and note the time, the skin will suddenly
become cool, the child will say that he feels chilly; then is the time
you must now change your tactics—instantly close the windows, and
put extra clothing, a blanket or two, on his bed. A flannel night-gown
should, until the dead skin has peeled off, be now worn next to the
skin, when the flannel night-gown should be discontinued. The
patient ought ever after to wear, in the daytime, a flannel waistcoat.
[234]
His drinks must now be given with the chill off; he ought to have
a warm cup of tea, and gradually his diet should, as I have previously
recommended be improved.
There is one important caution I wish to impress upon you,—do
not give opening medicine during the time the eruption is out. In all
probability the bowels will be opened: if so, all well and good; but do
not, on any account, for the first ten days, use artificial means to
open them. It is my firm conviction that the administration of
purgatives in scarlet fever is a fruitful source of dropsy, of disease,
and death. When we take into consideration the sympathy there is
between the skin and the mucous membrane, I think that we should
pause before giving irritating medicines, such as purgatives. The
irritation of aperients on the mucous membrane may cause the
poison of the skin disease (for scarlet fever is a blood poison) to be
driven internally to the kidneys, to the throat, to the pericardium
(bag of the heart), or to the brain. You may say, Do you not purge if
the bowels be not open for a week? I say emphatically, No!
I consider my great success in the treatment of scarlet fever to be
partly owing to my avoidance of aperients during the first ten days of
the child’s illness.
If the bowels, after the ten days, are not properly opened, a dose or
two of the following mixture should be given:
Take of—Simple Syrup, three drachms;
Essence of Senna, nine drachms:
Make a Liniment.
Let him wear a broad band of new flannel, which should extend
round from his chest to his back, and which ought to be changed
every night and morning, in order that it may be dried before putting
on again. To keep it in its place it should be fastened by means of
tapes and with shoulder-straps.
The diet ought now to be improved—he should gradually return to
his usual food; and, weather permitting, should almost live in the
open air—fresh air being, in such a case, one of the finest medicines.
In the third stage, that is to say, when the complaint has lasted a
month, if by that time the child is not well, there is nothing like
change of air to a high, dry, healthy, country place. Continue the
nitric acid mixture, and either the embrocation or the liniment to the
back and the chest, and let him continue to almost live in the open
air, and be sure that he does not discontinue wearing the flannel
until he be quite cured, and then let it be left off by degrees.
If the hooping-cough have caused debility, give him cod-liver oil, a
teaspoonful twice or three times a day, giving it him on a full
stomach after his meals.
But, remember, after the first three or four weeks, change of air,
and plenty of it, is for hooping-cough the grand remedy.
What NOT to do.—Do not apply leeches to the chest, for I would
rather put blood into a child laboring under hooping-cough than take
it out of him—hooping-cough is quite weakening enough to the
system of itself without robbing him of his life’s blood; do not, on any
account whatever, administer either emetic tartar or antimonial
wine; do not give either paregoric or syrup of white poppies; do not
drug him either with calomel or with gray powder; do not dose him
with quack medicine; do not give him stimulants, but rather give him
plenty of nourishment, such as milk and farinaceous food, but no
stimulants; do not be afraid, after the first week or two, of his having
fresh air, and plenty of it—for fresh, pure air is the grand remedy,
after all that can be said and done, in hooping-cough. Although
occasionally we find that if the child be laboring under hooping-
cough and is breathing a pure country air, and is not getting well so
rapidly as we could wish, change of air to a smoky, gas-laden town
will sometimes quickly effect a cure; indeed, some persons go so far
as to say that the best remedy for an obstinate case of hooping-cough
is for the child to live the great part of every day in gas-works!
231. What is to be done during a paroxysm of Hooping-cough?
If the child be old enough, let him stand up; but if he be either too
young or too feeble, raise his head, and bend his body a little
forward; then support his back with one hand, and the forehead with
the other. Let the mucus, the moment it is within reach, be wiped
with a soft handkerchief out of his mouth.
232. In an obstinate case of Hooping-cough, what is the best
remedy?
Change of air, provided there be no active inflammation, to any
healthy spot. A farm-house, in a high, dry, and salubrious
neighborhood, is as good a place as can be chosen. If, in a short time,
he be not quite well, take him to the sea-side: the sea breezes will
often, as if by magic, drive away the disease.
233. Suppose my child should have a shivering fit, is it to be
looked upon as an important symptom?
Certainly. Nearly all serious illnesses commence with a shivering
fit: severe colds, influenza, inflammations of different organs, scarlet
fever, measles, small-pox, and very many other diseases, begin in
this way. If, therefore, your child should ever have a shivering fit,
instantly send for a medical man, as delay might be dangerous. A few
hours of judicious treatment, at the commencement of an illness, is
frequently of more avail than days and weeks, nay months, of
treatment, when disease has gained a firm footing. A serious disease
often steals on insidiously, and we have, perhaps, only the shivering
fit, which might be but a slight one, to tell us of its approach.
A trifling ailment, too, by neglecting the premonitory symptom,
which, at first, might only be indicated by a slight shivering fit, will
sometimes become a mortal disorder:
“The little rift within the lute,
That by-and-by will make the music mute,
And ever widening slowly silence all.”[242]