To be and not to seem is the end of life.
The Greek in the age of Plato admitted praise to be one of the chief
incentives to moral virtue, and to most men the opinion of their
fellows is a leading principle of action. Hence a certain element of
seeming enters into all things; all or almost all desire to appear
better than they are, that they may win the esteem or admiration of
others. A man of ability can easily feign the language of piety or
virtue; and there is an unconscious as well as a conscious hypocrisy
which, according to Socrates, is the worst of the two. Again, there is
the sophistry of classes and professions. There are the different
opinions about themselves and one another which prevail in different
ranks of society. There is the bias given to the mind by the study of
one department of human knowledge to the exclusion of the rest; and
stronger far the prejudice engendered by a pecuniary or party interest
in certain tenets. There is the sophistry of law, the sophistry of
medicine, the sophistry of politics, the sophistry of theology. All of
these disguises wear the appearance of the truth; some of them are very
ancient, and we do not easily disengage ourselves from them; for we
have inherited them, and they have become a part of us. The sophistry
of an ancient Greek sophist is nothing compared with the sophistry of a
religious order, or of a church in which during many ages falsehood has
been accumulating, and everything has been said on one side, and
nothing on the other. The conventions and customs which we observe in
conversation, and the opposition of our interests when we have dealings
with one another (“the buyer saith, it is nought—it is nought,” etc.),
are always obscuring our sense of truth and right. The sophistry of
human nature is far more subtle than the deceit of any one man. Few
persons speak freely from their own natures, and scarcely any one dares
to think for himself: most of us imperceptibly fall into the opinions
of those around us, which we partly help to make. A man who would shake
himself loose from them, requires great force of mind; he hardly knows
where to begin in the search after truth. On every side he is met by
the world, which is not an abstraction of theologians, but the most
real of all things, being another name for ourselves when regarded
collectively and subjected to the influences of society.
Then comes Socrates, impressed as no other man ever was, with the
unreality and untruthfulness of popular opinion, and tells mankind that
they must be and not seem. How are they to be? At any rate they must
have the spirit and desire to be. If they are ignorant, they must
acknowledge their ignorance to themselves; if they are conscious of
doing evil, they must learn to do well; if they are weak, and have
nothing in them which they can call themselves, they must acquire
firmness and consistency; if they are indifferent, they must begin to
take an interest in the great questions which surround them. They must
try to be what they would fain appear in the eyes of their fellow-men.
A single individual cannot easily change public opinion; but he can be
true and innocent, simple and independent; he can know what he does,
and what he does not know; and though not without an effort, he can
form a judgment of his own, at least in common matters. In his most
secret actions he can show the same high principle (compare Republic)
which he shows when supported and watched by public opinion. And on
some fitting occasion, on some question of humanity or truth or right,
even an ordinary man, from the natural rectitude of his disposition,
may be found to take up arms against a whole tribe of politicians and
lawyers, and be too much for them.