A blue light from a distant peak fell upon a deep ravine; the clouds rose and covered the heavens to the zenith.
The rays disappeared and withdrew to a greater and greater distance, as if fleeing from this vale of shades and horrors. Socrates stood and looked after them sadly. Elpidias peered up at the peak full of dread7.
“Look, Socrates! What do you see there on the mountain?”
“Friend,” answered; the philosopher, “let us investigate our situation. Since we are in motion, we must arrive somewhere, and since earthly existence must have a limit, I believe that this limit is to be found at the parting of two beginnings. In the struggle of light with darkness we attain8 the crown of our endeavours. Since the ability to think has not been taken from us, I believe that it is the will of the divine being who called our power of thinking into existence that we should investigate the goal of our endeavours ourselves. Therefore, Elpidias, let us in dignified9 manner go to meet the dawn that lies beyond those clouds.”
“Oh, my friend! If that is the dawn, I would rather the long cheerless night had endured forever, for it was quiet and peaceful. Don’t you think our time passed tolerably well in instructive converse10? And now my soul trembles before the tempest drawing nigh. Say what you will, but there before us are no ordinary shades of the dead night.”
Ctesippus looked up to the peak, and his soul was frozen with horror. Huge sombre figures of the Olympian gods crowded on the mountain in a circle. A last ray shot through the region of clouds and mists, and died away like a faint memory. A storm was approaching now, and the powers of night were once more in the ascendant. Dark figures covered the heavens. In the centre Ctesippus could discern the all-powerful son of Cronos surrounded by a halo. The sombre figures of the older gods encircled him in wrathful excitement. Like flocks of birds winging their way in the twilight13, like eddies14 of dust driven by a hurricane, like autumn leaves lashed15 by Boreas, numerous minor16 gods hovered17 in long clouds and occupied the spaces.
When the clouds gradually lifted from the peak and sent down dismal18 horror to embrace the earth, Ctesippus fell upon his knees. Later, he admitted that in this dreadful moment he forgot all his master’s deductions19 and conclusions. His courage failed him; and terror took possession of his soul.
He merely listened.
Two voices resounded20 there where before had been silence, the one the mighty21 and threatening voice of the Godhead, the other the weak voice of a mortal which the wind carried from the mountain slope to the spot where Ctesippus had left Socrates.
“Are you,” thus spake the voice from the clouds, “are you the blasphemous22 Socrates who strives with the gods of heaven and earth? Once there were none so joyous23, so immortal24, as we. Now, for long we have passed our days in darkness because of the unbelief and doubt that have come upon earth. Never has the mist closed in on us so heavily as since the time your voice resounded in Athens, the city we once so dearly loved. Why did you not follow the commands of your father, Sophroniscus? The good man permitted himself a few little sins, especially in his youth, yet by way of recompense, we frequently enjoyed the smell of his offerings—”
“Stay, son of Cronos, and solve my doubts! Do I understand that you prefer cowardly hypocrisy25 to searchings for the truth?”
At this question the crags trembled with the shock of a thundering peal26. The first breath of the tempest scattered27 in the distant gorges28. But the mountains still trembled, for he who was enthroned upon them still trembled. And in the anxious quiet of the night only distant sighs could be heard.
In the very bowels29 of the earth the chained Titans seemed to be groaning30 under the blow of the son of Cronos.
“Where are you now, you impious questioner?” suddenly came the mocking voice of the Olympian.
“I am here, son of Cronos, on the same spot. Nothing but your answer can move me from it. I am waiting.”
Thunder bellowed31 in the clouds like a wild animal amazed at the daring of a Lybian tamer’s fearless approach. At the end of a few moments the Voice again rolled over the spaces:
“Son of Sophroniscus! Is it not enough that you bred so much scepticism on earth that the clouds of your doubt reached even to Olympus? Indeed, many a time when you were carrying on your discourse32 in the market-places or in the academies or on the promenades33, it seemed to me as if you had already destroyed all the altars on earth, and the dust were rising from them up to us here on the mountain. Even that is not enough! Here before my very face you will not recognise the power of the immortals—”
“Zeus, thou art wrathful. Tell me, who gave me the ‘Daemon’ which spoke34 to my soul throughout my life and forced me to seek the truth without resting?”
“Was it not you? You are silent? Then I will investigate the matter. Either this divine beginning emanates36 from you or from some one else. If from you, I bring it to you as an offering. I offer you the ripe fruit of my life, the flame of the spark of your own kindling37! See, son of Cronos, I preserved my gift; in my deepest heart grew the seed that you sowed. It is the very fire of my soul. It burned in those crises when with my own hand I tore the thread of life. Why will you not accept it? Would you have me regard you as a poor master whose age prevents him from seeing that his own pupil obediently follows out his commands? Who are you that would command me to stifle38 the flame that has illuminated39 my whole life, ever since it was penetrated by the first ray of sacred thought? The sun says not to the stars: ‘Be extinguished that I may rise.’ The sun rises and the weak glimmer40 of the stars is quenched41 by its far, far stronger light. The day says not to the torch: ‘Be extinguished; you interfere42 with me.’ The day breaks, and the torch smokes, but no longer shines. The divinity that I am questing is not you who are afraid of doubt. That divinity is like the day, like the sun, and shines without extinguishing other lights. The god I seek is the god who would say to me: ‘Wanderer, give me your torch, you no longer need it, for I am the source of all light. Searcher for truth, set upon my altar the little gift of your doubt, because in me is its solution.’ If you are that god, harken to my questions. No one kills his own child, and my doubts are a branch of the eternal spirit whose name is truth.”
Round about, the fires of heaven tore the dark clouds, and out of the howling storm again resounded the powerful voice:
“Whither did your doubts tend, you arrogant43 sage44, who renounce45 humility46, the most beautiful adornment47 of earthly virtues48? You abandoned the friendly shelter of credulous49 simplicity50 to wander in the desert of doubt. You have seen this dead space from which the living gods have departed. Will you traverse it, you insignificant51 worm, who crawl in the dust of your pitiful profanation52 of the gods? Will you vivify the world? Will you conceive the unknown divinity to whom you do not dare to pray? You miserable53 digger of dung, soiled by the smut of ruined altars, are you perchance the architect who shall build the new temple? Upon what do you base your hopes, you who disavow the old gods and have no new gods to take their place? The eternal night of doubts unsolved, the dead desert, deprived of the living spirit—this is your world, you pitiful worm, who gnawed54 at the living belief which was a refuge for simple hearts, who converted the world into a dead chaos55. Now, then, where are you, you insignificant, blasphemous sage?”
Nothing was heard but the mighty storm roaring through the spaces. Then the thunder died away, the wind folded its pinions56, and torrents57 of rain streamed through the darkness, like incessant58 floods of tears which threatened to devour59 the earth and drown it in a deluge60 of unquenchable grief.
It seemed to Ctesippus that the master was overcome, and that the fearless, restless, questioning voice had been silenced forever. But a few moments later it issued again from the same spot.
“Your words, son of Cronos, hit the mark better than your thunderbolts. The thoughts you have cast into my terrified soul have haunted me often, and it has sometimes seemed as if my heart would break under the burden of their unendurable anguish61. Yes, I abandoned the friendly shelter of credulous simplicity. Yes, I have seen the spaces from which the living gods have departed enveloped62 in the night of eternal doubt. But I walked without fear, for my ‘Daemon’ lighted the way, the divine beginning of all life. Let us investigate the question. Are not offerings of incense63 burnt on your altars in the name of Him who gives life? You are stealing what belongs to another! Not you, but that other, is served by credulous simplicity. Yes, you are right, I am no architect. I am not the builder of a new temple. Not to me was it given to raise from the earth to the heavens the glorious structure of the coming faith. I am one who digs dung, soiled by the smut of destruction. But my conscience tells me, son of Cronos, that the work of one who digs dung is also necessary for the future temple. When the time comes for the proud and stately edifice64 to stand on the purified place, and for the living divinity of the new belief to erect65 his throne upon it, I, the modest digger of dung, will go to him and say: ‘Here am I who restlessly crawled in the dust of disavowal. When surrounded by fog and soot66, I had no time to raise my eyes from the ground; my head had only a vague conception of the future building. Will you reject me, you just one, Just, and True, and Great?’”
Silence and astonishment67 reigned in the spaces. Then Socrates raised his voice, and continued:
“The sunbeam falls upon the filthy68 puddle69, and light vapour, leaving heavy mud behind, rises to the sun, melts, and dissolves in the ether. With your sunbeam you touched my dust-laden soul and it aspired70 to you, Unknown One, whose name is mystery! I sought for you, because you are Truth; I strove to attain to you, because you are Justice; I loved you, because you are Love; I died for you, because you are the Source of Life. Will you reject me, O Unknown? My torturing doubts, my passionate71 search for truth, my difficult life, my voluntary death—accept them as a bloodless offering, as a prayer, as a sigh! Absorb them as the immeasurable ether absorbs the evaporating mists! Take them, you whose name I do not know, let not the ghosts of the night I have traversed bar the way to you, to eternal light! Give way, you shades who dim the light of the dawn! I tell you, gods of my people, you are unjust, and where there is no justice there can be no truth, but only phantoms72, creations of a dream. To this conclusion have I come, I, Socrates, who sought to fathom73 all things. Rise, dead mists, I go my way to Him whom I have sought all my life long!”
The thunder burst again—a short, abrupt74 peal, as if the egis had fallen from the weakened hand of the thunderer. Storm-voices trembled from the mountains, sounding dully in the gorges, and died away in the clefts76. In their place resounded other, marvellous tones.
When Ctesippus looked up in astonishment, a spectacle presented itself such as no mortal eyes had ever seen.
The night vanished. The clouds lifted, and godly figures floated in the azure77 like golden ornaments78 on the hem6 of a festive79 robe. Heroic forms glimmered80 over the remote crags and ravines, and Elpidias, whose little figure was seen standing81 at the edge of a cleft75 in the rocks, stretched his hands toward them, as if beseeching82 the vanishing gods for a solution of his fate.
A mountain-peak now stood out clearly above the mysterious mist, gleaming like a torch over dark blue valleys. The son of Cronos, the thunderer, was no longer enthroned upon it, and the other Olympians too were gone.
Socrates stood alone in the light of the sun under the high heavens.
Ctesippus was distinctly conscious of the pulse-beat of a mysterious life quivering throughout nature, stirring even the tiniest blade of grass.
A breath seemed to be stirring the balmy air, a voice to be sounding in wonderful harmony, an invisible tread to be heard—the tread of the radiant Dawn!
And on the illumined peak a man still stood, stretching out his arms in mute ecstasy83, moved by a mighty impulse.
A moment, and all disappeared, and the light of an ordinary day shone upon the awakened84 soul of Ctesippus. It was like dismal twilight after the revelation of nature that had blown upon him the breath of an unknown life.
In deep silence the pupils of the philosopher listened to the marvellous recital85 of Ctesippus. Plato broke the silence.
“Let us investigate the dream and its significance,” he said.
“Let us investigate it,” responded the others.
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1
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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envelop
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| vt.包，封，遮盖；包围 | |
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luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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4
hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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hem
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| n.贴边，镶边；vt.缝贴边；(in)包围，限制 | |
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7
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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8
attain
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| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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11
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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12
gulf
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| n.海湾；深渊，鸿沟；分歧，隔阂 | |
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13
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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eddies
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| （水、烟等的）漩涡，涡流( eddy的名词复数 ) | |
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15
lashed
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| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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17
hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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18
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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deductions
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| 扣除( deduction的名词复数 )； 结论； 扣除的量； 推演 | |
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resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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21
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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blasphemous
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| adj.亵渎神明的，不敬神的 | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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immortal
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| adj.不朽的；永生的，不死的；神的 | |
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hypocrisy
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| n.伪善，虚伪 | |
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26
peal
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| n.钟声；v.鸣响 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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gorges
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| n.山峡，峡谷( gorge的名词复数 )；咽喉v.（用食物把自己）塞饱，填饱( gorge的第三人称单数 )；作呕 | |
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bowels
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| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
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groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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31
bellowed
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的过去式和过去分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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promenades
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| n.人行道( promenade的名词复数 )；散步场所；闲逛v.兜风( promenade的第三人称单数 ) | |
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34
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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35
reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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36
emanates
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| v.从…处传出，传出( emanate的第三人称单数 )；产生，表现，显示 | |
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kindling
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| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
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38
stifle
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| vt.使窒息；闷死；扼杀；抑止，阻止 | |
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39
illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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40
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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41
quenched
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| 解（渴）( quench的过去式和过去分词 )； 终止（某事物）； （用水）扑灭（火焰等）； 将（热物体）放入水中急速冷却 | |
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42
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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43
arrogant
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的 | |
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44
sage
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| n.圣人，哲人；adj.贤明的，明智的 | |
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45
renounce
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| v.放弃；拒绝承认，宣布与…断绝关系 | |
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46
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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47
adornment
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| n.装饰；装饰品 | |
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48
virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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49
credulous
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| adj.轻信的，易信的 | |
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50
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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51
insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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52
profanation
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| n.亵渎 | |
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53
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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54
gnawed
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| 咬( gnaw的过去式和过去分词 )； （长时间） 折磨某人； （使）苦恼； （长时间）危害某事物 | |
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55
chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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56
pinions
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| v.抓住[捆住]（双臂）( pinion的第三人称单数 ) | |
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57
torrents
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| n.倾注；奔流( torrent的名词复数 )；急流；爆发；连续不断 | |
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incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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59
devour
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| v.吞没；贪婪地注视或谛听，贪读；使着迷 | |
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60
deluge
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| n./vt.洪水，暴雨，使泛滥 | |
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61
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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62
enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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63
incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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64
edifice
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| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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66
soot
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| n.煤烟，烟尘；vt.熏以煤烟 | |
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67
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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filthy
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| adj.卑劣的；恶劣的，肮脏的 | |
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69
puddle
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| n.(雨)水坑，泥潭 | |
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70
aspired
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| v.渴望，追求( aspire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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71
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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72
phantoms
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| n.鬼怪，幽灵( phantom的名词复数 ) | |
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73
fathom
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| v.领悟，彻底了解 | |
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74
abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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75
cleft
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| n.裂缝；adj.裂开的 | |
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76
clefts
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| n.裂缝( cleft的名词复数 )；裂口；cleave的过去式和过去分词；进退维谷 | |
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77
azure
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| adj.天蓝色的，蔚蓝色的 | |
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78
ornaments
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| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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79
festive
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| adj.欢宴的，节日的 | |
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80
glimmered
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| v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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81
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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82
beseeching
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| adj.恳求似的v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的现在分词 ) | |
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83
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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84
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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recital
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| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
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