S. "My fine fellow, and wherefore? I have heard of a nation among the Indians who hold it a sacred duty to murder every one not of their own tribe, whom they can waylay: and when they are taken and punished by the rulers of that country, die joyfully under the greatest torments, believing themselves certain of an entrance into the Elysian fields, in proportion to the number of murders which they have committed."
A. "They must be impious wretches."
S. "Be it so. But believing themselves to be right, they commit murder by the spirit of truth."
A. "It seems to follow from the argument."
S. "Then it is indifferent to the spirit of truth whether the action which it prompts be right or wrong?"
A. "It must be confessed."
S. "It is therefore not a moral faculty, this spirit of truth. Let us see now whether it be an intellectual one. How are intellectual things defined, Phaethon? Tell me, for you are cunning in such matters."
P. "Those things which have to do with processes of the mind."
S. "With right processes, or with wrong?"
P. "With right, of course."
S. "And processes for what purpose?"
P. "For the discovery of facts."
S. "Of facts as they are, or as they are not?"
P. "As they are."
S. "And he who discovers facts as they are, discovers truth; while he who discovers facts as they are not, discovers falsehood?"
P. "He discovers nothing, Socrates."
S. "True; but it has been agreed already that the spirit of truth is indifferent to the question whether facts be true or false, but only concerns itself with the sincere affirmation of them, whatsoever they may be. Much more then must it be indifferent to those processes by which they are discovered."
P. "How so?"
S. "Because it only concerns itself with affirmation concerning facts; but these processes are anterior to that affirmation."
P. "I comprehend."
S. "And much more is it indifferent to whether those are right processes or not."
P. "Much more so."
S. "It is therefore not intellectual. It remains, therefore, that it must be some merely physical faculty, like that of fearing, hungering, or enjoying the s.e.xual appet.i.te."
A. "Absurd, Socrates!"
S. "That is the argument"s concern, not ours: let us follow manfully whithersoever it may lead us."
A. "Lead on, thou sophist!"
S. "It was agreed, then, that he who does what he thinks right, does so by the spirit of truth-was it not?"
A. "It was."
S. "Then he who eats when he thinks that he ought to eat, does so by the spirit of truth?"
A. "What next?"
S. "This next, that he who blows his nose when he thinks that it wants blowing, blows his nose by the spirit of truth."
A. "What next?"
S. "Do not frown, friend. Believe me, in such days as these, I honour even the man who is honest enough to blow his nose because he finds that he ought to do so. But tell me-a horse, when he shies at a beggar, does not he also do so by the spirit of truth? For he believes sincerely the beggar to be something formidable, and honestly acts upon his conviction."
"Not a doubt of it," said I, laughing, in spite of myself, at Alcibiades"s countenance.
S. "It is in danger, then, of proving to be something quite brutish and doggish, this spirit of truth. I should not wonder, therefore, if we found it proper to be restrained."
A. "How so, thou hair-splitter?"
S. "Have we not proved it to be common to man and animals; but are not those pa.s.sions which we have in common with animals to be restrained?"
P. "Restrain the spirit of truth, Socrates?"
S. "If it be doggishly inclined. As, for instance, if a man knew that his father had committed a shameful act, and were to publish it, he would do so by the spirit of truth. Yet such an act would be blackguardly, and to be restrained."
P. "Of course."
S. "But much more, if he accused his father only on his own private suspicion, not having seen him commit the act; while many others, who had watched his father"s character more than he did, a.s.sured him that he was mistaken."
P. "Such an act would be to be restrained, not merely as blackguardly, but as impious."
S. "Or if a man believed things derogatory to the character of the G.o.ds, not having seen them do wrong himself, while all those who had given themselves to the study of divine things a.s.sured him that he was mistaken, would he not be bound to restrain an inclination to speak such things, even if he believed them?"
P. "Surely, Socrates; and that even if he believed that the G.o.ds did not exist at all. For there would be far more chance that he alone was wrong, and the many right, than that the many were wrong, and he alone right. He would therefore commit an insolent and conceited action, and, moreover, a cruel and shameless one; for he would certainly make miserable, if he were believed, the hearts of many virtuous persons who had never harmed him, for no immediate or demonstrable purpose except that of pleasing his own self-will; and that much more, were he wrong in his a.s.sertion."
S. "Here, then, is another case in which it seems proper to restrain the spirit of truth, whatsoever it may be?"
P. "What, then, are we to say of those who speak fearlessly and openly their own opinions on every subject? for, in spite of all this, one cannot but admire them, whether rationally or irrationally."
S. "We will allow them at least the honour which we do to the wild boar, who rushes fiercely through thorns and brambles upon the dogs, not to be turned aside by spears or tree-trunks, and indeed charges forward the more valiantly the more tightly he shuts his eyes. That praise we can bestow on him, but, I fear, no higher one. It is expedient, nevertheless, to have such a temperament as it is to have a good memory, or a loud voice, or a straight nose unlike mine; only, like other animal pa.s.sions, it must be restrained and regulated by reason and the law of right, so as to employ itself only on such matters and to such a degree as they prescribe."
"It may seem so in the argument," said I. "Yet no argument, even of yours, Socrates, with your pardon, shall convince me that the spirit of truth is not fair and good, ay, the n.o.blest possession of all; throwing away which, a man throws away his shield, and becomes unworthy of the company of G.o.ds or men."
S. "Or of beasts either, as it seems to me and the argument.
Nevertheless, to this point has the argument, in its cunning and malice, brought us by crooked paths. Can we find no escape?"