But their souls felt my presence, and some of them rose up in their cells to greet me. I welcomed them in turn and began to converse with them. We were not heard, of course, by those whom we sought to understand. I first asked these tiny chattering spirits about their own beliefs, but they possessed none— or otherwise they were so confused and uncertain that it would have been better if they had had none. They were ashamed of their own uncertainty but, as they told me, they had been held in the dark so long that they scarcely recognised one another.
I tried to learn more about the history of this city, but no one seemed to know it. They had heard of giants in the past, the original inhabitants of London— ‘Now we believe,’ they said, ‘that they were prophecies of you and your race’! I had so many questions. Did these trees collect the shadows of the people who passed beneath? They had no answer. They did not even know the names of the trees. I asked them if the areas of grass were sacred places. I asked them why the buildings aspired to the sky. The birds that clustered on the roofs and in the squares—were they the guardians of London? Do sundials control the sun? They did not understand my questions. Instead they complained to me that they were imprisoned within beings who had little concept of divinity or truth, but who instead worshipped order and control. They told me that the people of Mouldwarp professed to care for their world, but they killed their unborn children and treated their animal companions with great savagery. Yet still they wanted to make copies of themselves by means of their science. I am telling you these things without wishing to disturb you. I intend to hide nothing of the truth from you, revealing both good and evil so that you can decide for yourselves whether I have visited a real city.
I conversed once more with these little spirits, and they told me that their charges suffered from forgetfulness and fear. The citizens were often bewildered; they lived within fantasies and ambitions which the city itself had created, and they felt obliged to act according to the roles allotted to them. They had no understanding of themselves. They had no use for the present except as an avenue to the future, and yet many experienced a great horror of death. They desired to go faster and faster, but towards some unknown destination. No wonder their souls shivered in the darkness. I spoke to some who simply wished to be dissolved and to disappear. When I heard people arguing, I saw their perturbed spirits fluttering above them.
I remember walking by the sacred Thames, where the outcasts slept, when a young man passed by me sighing. His soul recognised my presence and she spoke to me softly. ‘Do you see this river? I have stared into its depths and I have come to the conclusion that it is never the same. It exists for a moment, but then it is changed by water from other rivers and other seas. How can this be so? How can it always be the same and always different? Ever fresh and ever renewed?’ I had no answer but, after they had gone, I gazed upon its surface. And there for the first time in this world I saw the outline of my own face, rippling upon the water. I saw myself ebbing and flowing in time. I looked up and gazed at their sun; the disc shone hot and bright, but I could see through it to the other side and to the roof of the cave. It was then I decided to return and to tell you of my discoveries.
The Trial of Plato Charged with Corrupting the Young by Spinning Lies and Fables
34
Sparkler: And then what did he do?
Ornatus: He was standing beside the river, with a crowd gathered around him. You should have seen him, stamping his foot and dancing and singing out his words. He has the voice of a tall man—
Sparkler: He always possessed gifts beyond his stature. That is why his light is so intense.
Ornatus: He cannot help his nature, of course, but he makes a point of mentioning it. He revels in it. ‘Consider my plight,’ he says. ‘I am different from all of you. Even the children look down on me.’ Then he pauses for a moment. ‘But I wonder who looks down on you?’
Sparkler: What did he mean by that?
Ornatus: Only he knows. Nothing, probably. But he captured their attention. That was when he began talking about science. Or was it silence? Apparently silence created food and clothes and everything else.
Sparkler: Where has he found this? It cannot have been taught to him, since the guardians would never sanction such nonsense.
Ornatus: That is what I have been trying to tell you. You never listen.
Sparkler: And you are too impatient.
Ornatus: He found it all in a cave.
Sparkler: A cave? What kind of cave?
Ornatus: I have to admit I missed most of it. I was anointing my feet.
Sparkler: As usual.
Ornatus: But then he mentioned clocks. Or locks. The locks signified time. It was all very confusing. Let me see if I can reawaken the scene.
Do you see this? Come closer, citizens. It is known as a watch. I brought it back with me from the cave of Mouldwarp. No. Do not laugh. Listen. These marks are called numbers. Notice how this narrow strip of metal sweeps around in a circle of harmony? That is time. Do not be afraid to touch it. Its spell cannot be reawakened. What was its purpose? It created a universe! Examine the numbers around the rim. Do they not make beautiful shapes? See the curvature of this one. Look at the oval. They are wonderful because they once represented the structure of the world. If we open the back, here, we find tiny springs and wheels. This is the machine. There was once a whole universe modelled in its shape. That is why this watch was once an object of great power. The people of Mouldwarp believed that they were the inhabitants of time and that time itself was sacred because it was involved in the origin of all things. Do you begin to understand what an interesting civilisation it was? Time lent them a sense of progress and of change, as well as giving them perspective and an indication of distance. It allowed them hope and also forgetfulness. There was a thing called art, which was also the production of time. Other great achievements were performed in its name and the ancient citizens, who lived in so few dimensions, were astonished by it. So they created this ritual object, this watch.
But then Plato made an extraordinary announcement.
Sparkler: About what?
Ornatus: He claimed that his orations had been filled with errors and misinterpretations.
Sparkler: No!
Ornatus: Mouldwarp had not ended in chaos. There had been no burning of the machines.
Sparkler: This is absurd! What did the citizens make of it?
Ornatus: Some of them were bewildered. Some were laughing. I just walked away. I was strolling in the fields among the archers when I heard the rumour that he has been put on trial.
Sparkler: Precisely what I have heard. We shared a parish and a school with him, but we did not foresee any of this.
35
We have listened to you carefully, Plato. We have considered everything you have told us. We cannot judge you on your conscience, only upon what you have said and done. It is our duty now to repeat the charges against you, so that you may answer them directly.
If you can convince me with argument, then of course I will retract.
The first charge against you is that you have corrupted the youth of this city by your words and speeches.
How can there be corruption in teaching them to consider the world not as it is but as it might have been? Or as it once was?
Already you are contradicting yourself. In your statement of exculpation to us, you have insisted that this world still exists in some dark cavern beneath our city. You have described it in such vivid detail that some of us long to visit.
(Laughter)
Yes. We do exist above them. We are, to them, no more than ghosts of light—
You were in a drunken stupor and dreamed all of this.
May I be allowed to continue? Their city is sunk within a cave and their sky is the roof of that dark chamber. I will debate with you on the merits of two realities existing simultaneously, and together we may decide that all versions and visions of the world may coexist eternally. But I have taught the young nothing of thi
s. Shall I tell you what I said to them?
36
Help me forward, children. If I stand upon the top of the hill, I can be seen by you all. There once stood a great domed church on this summit, dedicated to the god Paul. I have seen it. There was a churchyard here. I am pleased that it is now a desert place. Do you know why? It means that I can speak freely to you without the whispers and rumours of the citizens. I am Plato the witless. That is what they call me now. Perhaps there is some justice there. I have always taught that you must know yourself. That is why I have looked into myself, too, and I realise I am not always right. I make mistakes. I stumble towards the truth. Look. Here is one of the stones I stumbled upon. It is not a witless stone like me, however. It is not one of the stones scattered around us. It is a witty stone. Do you see the marks carved upon its sides? Stones such as this were known to the ancients as dice. I brought it back with me from—you know where. Shall we follow the pattern of our ancestors? Roll the stone. Now roll it again. Can any of you tell me why different sides appeared? Can anyone predict which side will be hidden on the third roll? Of course you cannot. That is why I stumble. That is why I stop and think. Let us suppose that after a hundred, or even a thousand, throws we could still not be sure which side it would turn upon. Can we doubt that the anxiety would begin to affect our own lives? Why do we speak of human certainty, when this little stone will always trip us up? Perhaps I am being witless again. Perhaps not.
Of course it may be that our ancestors were not so frightened of change, and of chance, as we are. Perhaps it became, for them, a game like this one. I believe that they were content to face all the troubles and misadventures of this world. I have taught you that they lived in darkness, but they were not always afraid of the dark. I have already explained to you how they saw burning objects in their sky, which brought them warmth and comfort, but what if they had been granted other gifts? There is no darkness upon this little stone. It is a light and pleasant thing. Feel it. It reminds us that wherever there is fear, there is also delight; where there is pain, there may also be pleasure.
That is why I love those among you who are willing to question. I know that you have been taught the lives of gods and of heroes, of angels and of giants. But you have never heard the legends of those who stood alone against the world and, by dint of courage and truthfulness, won their battles. Why not praise them as well as the leaders who have been chosen for you to study? Look how different you all are. The son of Artemidorus is taller and more fair-skinned than the son of Madrigal; the daughter of Ornatus has limbs more slender than the daughter of Magnolia. Let us suppose that you are all different in other ways. I do not doubt that you will then approach the moment of revelation which once came to me. That is when I cried out, ‘I am I! I am not someone other!’ There. I have shouted it out, once more, and the city walls have not crumbled. Let us go down now and pray together by the black friars.
37
Was there any harm, or danger, in my words to them? On our way down from the hill I asked them to consider the nature of our gestures—how we stand back in conversation and raise our hands, how we touch our faces to denote pity or pleasure, how we close our eyes to signify assent. These are not newly made. They reach back for many thousands of years.
Enough! You are on trial for spreading fables and deceits, Plato. You are not invited to elaborate upon them.
I will make one confession to you. I seemed to recollect something of myself in the citizens of Mouldwarp. In many ways they were as barbarous and foolish as I have described; but when I looked into their eyes, or whispered to their souls, I recognised that they were indeed our ancestors. That is perhaps why I loved them. They could not know that they lived in a cave, hidden from the light. But how can we be sure that, in turn, there is not a world of brightness beyond our own?
Once more you test our patience, Plato. Do not cling to your blasphemies.
I see that I have offended you. You condemn me because I cannot accept the ultimate reality of our world. Is that it?
You know very well the case against you. You have departed from the way. You will attract misfortune. The citiZens already murmur against you.
How can it be that I disturb them by speaking the truth and admitting that in my orations I have misled them?
You are being too modest. You have gone further than that.
How? I have never spoken evil of the angels. I have never questioned the sanctity of mazes and mirrors. I have never defied the hierarchy of colours. I have beaten the bounds of my parish, according to custom. Do you want me to go on?
This is mere sophistry, Plato. All of us know that by your words you have divided children from their parents. Do you wish us to give you an example?
38
Ornatus: Come closer, Myander. Sit by me. I see that you have been crying.
Myander: You know why, father. I have been told that I must move to another part of the city.
Ornatus: All children of a certain age move on. It is the custom. It gives you further cause to worship and to understand.
Myander: But why is it necessary to move at all? I have seen citizens, in the market and in the streets, who have stood in one place always.
Ornatus: They suffer from sickness. They are to be pitied, not condemned. They believe that our dimensions are illusory and so they refuse to make even the smallest movement.
Myander: Plato says that we resemble them because we rarely walk beyond the walls.
Ornatus: Plato says many things, Myander. Not all of them are right. We do not move beyond the city because there is no reason to do so. This is our companionship. The light around us is the light of human care. It is life itself. Why wander beyond our bounds, where we could only grow weary?
Myander: Yet Plato—
Ornatus: Oh. Once more.
Myander: Plato says that we must learn to doubt and to question all these things. I was listening to him by the bishop’s gate.
When I was a child, as you are, I was taken to see the lambs on the green of Lambeth. ‘Look, Plato,’ my instructor said to me, ‘look how they frisk and gambol.’ ‘Why?’ I asked. ‘Because that is what lambs have always done. They know they have been chosen to fulfil their form, and they rejoice. And that is what you must do, little Plato.’ Did I agree or disagree? What do you think? I am short, like you. I admit it. How can I deny it, when I have to stand back and look up at the citizens? You can laugh, if you wish. I do, often. It fills me with joy to know that I am different. When I was a child my mother told me never to accept the opinions of others without examining them carefully. ‘You are small,’ she said to me, ‘because you have been chosen to see everything from a different vantage.’ So I learned to study myself rather than study the lessons that others wished to teach me. I wanted to find the truth that was true for me alone. Do you understand me? Here is an ancient coin. If you come close, you will see it.
Then he put it in his left palm and moved his hands one over the other.
Is it still there, where I placed it? Of course? No. It has gone. It is in my right hand. And children are supposed to be so observant! This is my only suggestion to you. There are no certainties. So take nothing for granted. Question your instructors. Ask them this: ‘How can I be sure what existence I have been chosen for?’
Ornatus: So that is how he speaks to you.
Myander: He does not treat us as children. He argues with us.
Why is sleep supposed to be a holy thing? Because it is a form of worship. But then why do I sleep only fitfully?
And then he contradicts us.
To wait, and to do nothing, is a form of worship. Is that what you were taught? But what if worship were a form of waiting? Waiting for what?
Sometimes he even mocks us.
So you have heard of the city of the unborn. But you do not know where it is. It is the city from which we all have come, but its location does not interest you. It might disturb the deep peace of your being. Is that the phrase? Yes? The deep
peace of being. But I tell you this. In the house of birth, just outside the walls, the newborn scream and struggle as they are brought into our world. Tell me, why is this?
Ornatus: There is no need to listen to him, Myander. Even better, try to avoid him. I have been told something. I have learned that he is placed on trial.
Myander: So much the worse for us.
39
Do you understand now how you have disturbed the citizens?
Never once have I described my journey to the children. I have simply invited them to ask questions and to discuss the answers among themselves.
You mention your famous journey once again. May we then be permitted to ask our own questions? What if you had stood before the citizens of Mouldwarp and informed them that they were living in a dark and shrunken world? That they were imprisoned within a cave. Do you think they would have applauded you and offered you thanks? Do you imagine that they would have been grateful for this knowledge? No. They would have scorned you as a simpleton, or condemned you as a deluder.
As you do.
We do not consider you to be foolish and we have not yet condemned you. If it is a matter of delusion, perhaps it is only self-delusion.
You mean that I have lost my wits. Thank you.
No. You protest too much. In certain respects we sympathise with you.
I do not require sympathy. I do not believe that I need it. I only ask to be judged with fairness. It has been suggested that I invented my journey to Mouldwarp in order to gain credit for myself. What credit? I now stand before you as a man about to be condemned. It was put to me that all was fantasy, designed to prove my own speculations about our ancestors. Could anyone have invented the world I have described?
The Plato Papers Page 7