Note 117.1 — FOOTNOTES.

This passage teaches us all that can profitably be said on the so-called δαίμων or familiar spirit of Socrates. It was plainly nothing but an inward voice dissuading from certain courses of action, which, as it rested on no grounds of human argumentation, and did not pretend to explain itself, fell to be classed with what we call mysterious instincts and presentiments, and which, as a pious man, Socrates, and in my opinion wisely, attributed to the Source of all original vital power and spiritual energy, viz., God. If men eat and drink, and sleep and perform other essential functions of vitality, by a law which the Creator keeps in His own hands, and over which human volition exercises no control, there is no reason why in the higher region of our moral and intellectual life, behind and beyond the domain of our purpose and volition, the great Source of all cosmic energy should not reserve for Himself a field of deeper influence, and by us necessarily inexplicable. Our understanding, with all its pretensions, is a petty faculty, which asserts its power lightly in dissecting what is dead, but proves itself feeble and powerless in all that concerns vital origination. Homer constantly represents his heroes as receiving inspirations of strength, and wisdom from the Infinite Source of all strength and wisdom; and in accordance with this healthy human instinct Socrates taught that on great and critical occasions he was often directed by a mysterious voice, or intimation from the τὸ δαιμόνιον. The only thing about the matter which ought to require explanation is the method in which this divine power acted. Its method of action was negative, never positive, and warning on each occasion from what was not to be done, never inciting to what should be done. The reason of this, we think, is not far to seek. Socrates was both personally, and in virtue of the people to whom he belonged, a reasoner; logic was his lamp through life, and by this clear light he was habitually guided in all common cases. But there are dark and doubtful moments in the brightest lives, when even the wisest and the most conscientious can find no sure direction in the pros and cons that suffice for general guidance; in such cases one is thrown back on those radical and fundamental instincts of character which underlie all reasoning and all purpose; and the particular God-given instinct which was strong in the nature of Socrates was not to meddle with certain matters, from which it was doubtful whether his character would come out unscathed. It was therefore a mysterious instinct of caution that God had implanted in the breast of the philosopher, an instinct of the utmost value to all men who live in the world, but especially useful to one who, like Socrates, was always in danger of being drawn by his strong and wide sympathies into regions from which, in the interest of his higher mission, it was better that he should retire.