Turning to Seti, Aleph expressed a hope that he would excuse any injustice that might be done to his lecture under such a stress of circumstances, and then proceeded as follows:
“The lecture was on the ethics of truthfulness. It held up to abhorrence the general character of a liar and hypocrite; and said that men must tell what seems truth to them whenever they profess to tell it. In war, hostile forces do not profess to tell the truth to each other, but the contrary: the very fact of war certifies to all that feints, stratagems, deceptions of all sorts will be used, and they are just as proper as war itself. Under certain circumstances one can properly withhold truth from his neighbor without notice given. No man is bound to tell all he knows to all sorts of persons without regard to how they will use the information. A glass house would not be a good one to live in—especially where stones and sinners are plenty. Silence is often both the privilege and duty of a man, as well as his wisdom. Deity himself keeps back much truth permanently from us, and chooses his own times and ways for revealing other truth. In the interest of justice we can properly make inquiries which, if their object were known, would not be answered: we can be silent on what criminals have no right to know. In government, in business, in social intercourse a measure of reticence is indispensable to the wisest living, and even to righteousness. Without notice given, one may never affirm what he thinks to be false: he may without notice sometimes keep back what he knows to be true. These positions were defended by considerations drawn from natural conscience, the general voice of mankind, the testimonies of illustrious teachers, and the grave difficulties that would arise were the world to accept and act upon other principles.”
Aleph folded his arms and looked inquiringly at the committee. The committee looked inquiringly at Seti.
“May we ask the venerable Seti whether this is a satisfactory account of his lecture?”
He bowed assent: and a general cheer went up from the benches.
“I perceive,” said the master of ceremonies, “that it is the mind of our community that I pronounce the first part of the examination well sustained. Accordingly I so pronounce.”
Another round of applause.
The young man continued, addressing Aleph, “As you have doubtless perceived, our object has been not so much to find out how much you know as your powers of knowing. I think we have gotten sufficient light on that point. May we get as much on the point that still remains to be inquired into, viz., your powers of doing. Our community lay considerable stress on physical accomplishments, and, we think, with good reason. An efficient mind does its best in an efficient body. We but follow the traditions of more classical times when we ask whether you can run and ride and row, can leap and lift and shoot and wrestle and fence—in short, protect your mother and sisters and such maiden as the gods may give you.”
“I have had some teaching in all these matters,” replied Aleph: “whether I have duly profited by the teaching it does not become me to say.”