AN ESSAY ON THE BEAUTIFUL_(From the Greek of Plotinus)_

Translated byThomas Taylor

LondonJohn M. Watkins21 Cecil Court, Charing Cross Road1917

INTRODUCTION

It may seem wonderful that language, which is the only method ofconveying our conceptions, should, at the same time, be anhindrance to our advancement in philosophy; but the wonder ceaseswhen we consider, that it is seldom studied as the vehicle of truth, but is too frequently esteemed for its own sake, independent of itsconnection with things. This observation is remarkably verified inthe Greek language; which, as it is the only repository of ancientwisdom, has, unfortunately for us, been the means of concealing, inshameful obscurity, the most profound researches and the sublimesttruths. That words, indeed, are not otherwise valuable than assubservient to things, must surely be acknowledged by every liberalmind, and will alone be disputed by him who has spent the prime ofhis life, and consumed the vigour of his understanding, in verbalcriticisms and grammatical trifles. And, if this is the case, everylover of truth will only study a language for the purpose ofprocuring the wisdom it contains; and will doubtless wish to makehis native language the vehicle of it to others. For, since all truth iseternal, its nature can never be altered by transposition, though bythis means its dress may be varied, and become less elegant andrefined. Perhaps even this inconvenience may be remedied bysedulous cultivation; at least, the particular inability of some, oughtnot to discourage the well-meant endeavours of others. Whoeverreads the lives of the ancient Heroes of Philosophy, must beconvinced that they studied things more than words, and that Truthalone was the ultimate object of their search; and he who wishes toemulate their glory and participate their wisdom, will study theirdoctrines more than their language, and value the depth of theirunderstandings far beyond the elegance of their composition. Thenative charms of Truth will ever be sufficient to allure the trulyphilosophic mind; and he who has once discovered her retreats willsurely endeavour to fix a mark by which they may be detected byothers. 

But, though the mischief arising from the study of words isprodigious, we must not consider it as the only cause of darkeningthe splendours of Truth, and obstructing the free diffusion of herlight. Different manners and philosophies have equally contributedto banish the goddess from our realms, and to render our eyesoffended with her celestial light. Hence we must not wonder that, being indignant at the change, and perceiving the empire ofignorance rising to unbounded dominion, she has retired from thespreading darkness, and concealed herself in the tranquil anddivinely lucid regions of mind. For we need but barely surveymodern pursuits to be convinced how little they are connected withwisdom. Since, to describe the nature of some particular place, theform, situation and magnitude of a certain city; to trace the windingsof a river to its source, or delineate the aspect of a pleasant mountain;to calculate the fineness of the silkworm's threads, and arrange thegaudy colours of butterflies; in short, to pursue matter through itsinfinite divisions, and wander in its dark labyrinths, is theemployment of the philosophy in vogue. But surely the energies ofintellect are more worthy our concern than the operations of sense;and the science of universals, permanent and fixed, must be superiorto the knowledge of particulars, fleeting and frail. Where is asensible object to be found, which abides for a moment the same;which is not either rising to perfection, or verging to decay; which isnot mixed and confused with its contrary; whose flowing nature noresistance can stop, nor any art confine? Where is the chemist who, by the most accurate analyzation can arrive at the principles ofbodies; or who, though he might be so lucky in his search as todetect the atoms of Democritus, could by this means give respite tomental investigation? For every atom, since endued with figure, must consist of parts, though indissolubly cemented together; andthe immediate cause of this cement must be something incorporealor knowledge can have no stability and enquiry no end. Where, saysMr Harris, is the microscope which can discern what is smallest innature? Where the telescope which can see at what point in theuniverse wisdom first began? Since, then, there is no portion ofmatter which may not be the subject of experiments without end, letus betake ourselves to the regions of mind, where all things arebounded in intellectual measure; where everything is permanent andbeautiful, eternal and divine. Let us quit the study of particulars, forthat which is general and comprehensive, and through this, learn tosee and recognize whatever exists. 

With a view to this desirable end, I have presented the reader with aspecimen of that sublime wisdom which first arose in the colleges ofthe Egyptian priests, and flourished afterwards in Greece; which wasthere cultivated by Pythagoras, under the mysterious veil of numbers;by Plato, in the graceful dress of poetry; and was systematized byAristotle, as far as it could be reduced into scientific order; which, after becoming in a manner extinct, shone again with its pristinesplendour among the philosophers of the Alexandrian school; waslearnedly illustrated with Asiatic luxuriancy of style by Proclus; wasdivinely explained by Iamblichus: and profoundly delivered in thewritings of Plotinus. Indeed, the works of this last philosopher areparticularly valuable to all who desire to penetrate into the depths ofthis divine wisdom. From the exalted nature of his genius, he wascalled Intellect by his contemporaries, and is said to have composedhis books under the influence of divine illumination. Porphyryrelates, in his life, that he was four times united by an ineffableenergy with the divinity; which, however such an account may beridiculed in the present age, will be credited by everyone who hasproperly explored the profundity of his mind. The facility andvehemence of his composition was such, that when he had onceconceived a subject, he wrote as from an internal pattern, withoutpaying much attention to the orthography, or reviewing what he hadwritten; for the celestial vigour of his intellect rendered himincapable of trifling concerns, and in this respect, inferior tocommon understandings, as the eagle, which in its bold flightpierces the clouds, skims the surface of the earth with less rapiditythan the swallow. Indeed a minute attention to trifles is inconsistentwith great genius of every kind, and it is on this account thatretirement is so absolutely necessary to the discovery of truths of thefirst dignity and importance; for how is it possible to mix much withthe world, without imbibing the false and puerile conceptions of themultitude; and without losing that true elevation of soul whichcomparatively despises every mortal concern? Plotinus, therefore, conscious of the incorrectness of his writings arising from therapidity, exuberance and daring sublimity of his thoughts, committed their revision to his disciple Porphyry; who, thoughinferior in depth of thought to his master, was, on account of hisextraordinary abilities, called by way of eminence the Philosopher. 

The design of the following discourse is to bring us to the perceptionof the beautiful itself, even while connected with a corporeal nature, which must be the great end of all true philosophy and whichPlotinus happily obtained. To a genius, indeed, truly modern, withwhom the crucible and the air-pump are alone the standards of Truth, such an attempt must appear ridiculous in the extreme. With these, nothing is real but what the hand can grasp or the corporeal eyeperceives, and nothing useful but what pampers the appetite or fillsthe purse; but unfortunately, their perceptions, like Homer's fraildreams, pass through the ivory gate; and are consequently emptyand fallacious, and contain nothing belonging to the vigilant soul. To such as these a treatise on the beautiful cannot be addressed;since its object is too exalted to be approached by those engaged inthe impurities of sense, and too bright to be seen by the eyeaccustomed to the obscurity of corporeal vision. But it is aloneproper to him who is sensible that his soul is strongly marked withruin by its union with body; who considers himself in the languageof Empedocles, as

 "Heaven's exile, straying from the orb of light";

and who so ardently longs for a return to his true country, that tohim, as to Ulysses when fighting for Ithaca, "Slow seems the fun to move, the hours to roll; His native home deep-imag'd in his soul". [1]

But here it is requisite to observe that our ascent to this region ofBeauty must be made by gradual advances, for, from our associationwith matter, it is impossible to pass directly, and without a medium, to such transcendent perfection; but we must proceed in a mannersimilar to those who pass from darkness to the brightest light, byadvancing from places moderately enlightened, to such as are themost luminous of all. It is necessary therefore, that we shouldbecome very familiar with the most abstract contemplations; andthat our intellectual eye should be strongly irradiated with the lightof ideas which precedes the splendours of the beautiful itself, likethe brightness which is seen on the summit of mountains previous tothe rising of the sun. Nor ought it to seem strange, if it should besome time before even the liberal soul can recognize the beautifulprogeny of intellect as its kindred and allies; for, from its union withbody, it has drunk deep of the cup of oblivion, and all its energeticpowers are stupefied by the intoxicating draught; so that theintelligible world, on its first appearance, is utterly unknown by us, and our recollection of its inhabitants entirely lost; and we becomefamiliar to Ulysses on his first entrance into Ithaca, of whom Homersays, "Yet had his mind, thro' tedious absence lost The dear remembrance of his native coast". [2]

For, "Now all the land another prospect bore, Another port appeared, another shore, And long-continued ways, and winding floods And unknown mountains crowned with unknown woods":

until the goddess of wisdom purges our eyes from the mists of senseand says to each of us, as she did to Ulysses, "Now lift thy longing eyes, while I restore The pleasing prospect of thy native shore. "

For then will

 " . . . . The prospect clear, The mists disperse, and all the coast appear. "

Let us then, humbly supplicate the irradiations of wisdom, andfollow Plotinus as our divine guide to the beatific vision of theBeautiful itself; for in this alone can we find perfect repose, andrepair those destructive clefts and chinks of the soul which itsdeparture from the light of good, and its lapse into a corporeal nature, have introduced. 

But before I conclude, I think it necessary to caution the reader notto mix any modern enthusiastic opinions with the doctrinescontained in the following discourse; for there is not a greaterdifference between substance and shade than between ancient andmodern enthusiasm. The object of the former was the highest goodand supreme beauty; but that of the latter is nothing more than aphantom raised by bewildered imaginations, floating on the unstableocean of opinion, the sport of the waves of prejudice and blownabout by the breath of factious party. Like substance and shade, indeed they possess a similitude in outward appearance, but inreality they are perfect contraries; for the one fills the mind withsolid and durable good, but the other with empty delusions; whichlike the ever-running waters of the Danaides, glide away as fast asthey enter, and leave nothing behind but the ruinous passagesthrough which they flowed. 

I only add, that the ensuing treatise is designed as a specimen(if it should meet with encouragement) of my intended mode ofpublishing all the works of Plotinus. The undertaking is, I amsensible, arduous in the extreme; and the disciples of wisdom areunfortunately few; but, as I desire no other reward of my labour, than to have the expense of printing defrayed, and to see Truthpropagated in my native tongue; I hope those few will enable me toobtain the completion of my desires. For then, to adopt the words ofUlysses, "That view vouchsaf'd, let instant death surprise With ever-during shade these happy eyes!"[3]

CONCERNING THE BEAUTIFUL

Beauty[4] for the most part, consists in objects of sight; but it is alsoreceived through the ears, by the skilful composition of words, andthe consonant proportion of sounds; for in every species of harmony, beauty is to be found. And if we rise from sense into the regions ofsoul, we shall there perceive studies and offices, actions and habits, sciences and virtues, invested with a much larger portion of beauty. But whether there is above these, a still higher beauty, will appear aswe advance in its investigation. What is it then, which causes bodiesto appear fair to the sight, sounds beautiful to the ear, and scienceand virtue lovely to the mind? May we not enquire after whatmanner they all partake of beauty? Whether beauty is one and thesame in all? Or, whether the beauty of bodies is of one kind, and thebeauty of souls of another? And again, what these are, if they aretwo? Or, what beauty is, if perfectly simple, and one? For somethings, as bodies, are doubtless beautiful, not from the natures of thesubjects in which they reside, but rather by some kind ofparticipation; but others again appear to be essentially beautiful, orbeauties themselves; and such is the nature of virtue. For, withrespect, to the same bodies, they appear beautiful to one person, andthe reverse of beauty to another; as if the essence of body were athing different from the essence of beauty. In the first place then, what is that, which, by its presence, causes the beauty of bodies? Letus reflect, what most powerfully attracts the eyes of beholders, andseizes the spectator with rapturous delight; for if we can find whatthis is, we may perhaps use it as a ladder, enabling us to ascend intothe region of beauty, and survey its immeasurable extent. 

It is the general opinion that a certain commensuration of parts toeach other, and to the whole, with the addition, of colour, generatesthat beauty which is the object of sight; and that in thecommensurate and the moderate alone the beauty of everythingconsists. But from such an opinion the compound only, and not thesimple, can be beautiful, the single parts will have no peculiarbeauty; and will only merit that appellation by conferring to thebeauty of the whole. But it is surely necessary that a lovely wholeshould consist of beautiful parts, for the fair can never rise out of thedeformed. But from such a definition, it follows, that beautifulcolours and the light of the sun, since they are simple and do notreceive their beauty from commensuration, must be excluded theregions of beauty. Besides, how, from such an hypothesis can goldbe beautiful? Or the glittering of night and the glorious spectacle ofthe stars? In like manner, the most simple musical sounds will beforeign from beauty, though in a song wholly beautiful every notemust be beautiful, as necessary to the being of the whole. Again, since the same proportion remaining, the same face is to one personbeautiful and to another the reverse, is it not necessary to callthe beauty of the commensurate one kind of beauty and thecommensuration another kind, and that the commensurate is fair bymeans of something else? But if transferring themselves to beautifulstudies and fair discourses, they shall assign as the cause of beautyin these the proportion of measure, what is that which in beautifulsciences, laws or disciplines, is called commensurate proportion? Orin what manner can speculations themselves be called mutuallycommensurate? If it be said because of the inherent concord, wereply that there is a certain concord and consent in evil souls, aconformity of sentiment, in believing (as it is said) that temperanceis folly and justice generous ignorance. It appears, therefore, that thebeauty of the soul is every virtue, and this species of the beautifulpossesses far greater reality than any of the superior we havementioned. But after what manner in this is commensuration to befound? For it is neither like the symmetry in magnitude nor innumbers. And since the parts of the soul are many, in whatproportion and synthesis, in what temperament of parts or concordof speculations, does beauty consist? Lastly, of what kind is thebeauty of intellect itself, abstracted from every corporeal concern, and intimately conversing with itself alone?

We still, therefore, repeat the question, What is the beauty of bodies?It is something which at first view presents itself to sense, and whichthe soul familiarly apprehends and eagerly embraces, as if it wereallied to itself. But when it meets with the deformed, it hastily startsfrom the view and retires abhorrent from its discordant nature. Forsince the soul in its proper state ranks according to the mostexcellent essence in the order of things, when it perceives any objectrelated to itself, or the mere vestige of a relation, it congratulatesitself on the pleasing event, and astonished with the strikingresemblance[5] enters deep into its essence, and, by rousing itsdormant powers, at length perfectly recollects its kindred and allies. What is the similitude then between the beauties of sense and thatbeauty which is divine? For if there be any similitude the respectiveobjects must be similar. But after what manner are the two beautiful?For it is by participation of species that we call every sensible objectbeautiful. Thus, since everything void of form is by nature fitted forits reception, as far as it is destitute of reason and form it is base andseparate from the divine reason, the great fountain of forms; andwhatever is entirely remote from this immortal source is perfectlybase and deformed. [6] And such is matter, which my its nature isever averse from the supervening irradiations of form. Whenever, therefore, form accedes, it conciliates in amicable unity the partswhich are about to compose a whole; for being itself one it is notwonderful that the subject of its power should tend to unity, as far asthe nature of a compound will admit. Hence beauty is established inmultitude when the many is reduced into one, and in this case itcommunicates itself both to the parts and to the whole. But when aparticular one, composed from similar parts, is received it givesitself to the whole, without departing from the sameness andintegrity of its nature. Thus at one and the same time itcommunicates itself to the whole building and its several parts; andat another time confines itself to a single stone, and then the firstparticipation arises from the operations of art, but the second fromthe formation of nature. And hence body becomes beautiful throughthe communion supernally proceeding from divinity. 

But the soul, by her innate power, than which nothing morepowerful, in judging its proper concerns, when another soul concursin the decision, acknowledges the beauty of forms. And, perhaps, itsknowledge in this case arises from its accommodating its internalray of beauty to form, and trusting to this in its judgment; in thesame manner as a rule is employed in the decision of what is straight. But how can that which is inherent in body, accord with that whichis above body? Let us reply by asking how the architect pronouncesthe building beautiful by accommodating the external structure thefabric of his soul? Perhaps, because the outward building, whenentirely deprived of the stones, is no other than the intrinsic form, divided by the external mass of matter, but indivisibly existing, though appearing in the many. When, therefore, sense beholds theform in bodies, at strife with matter, binding and vanquishing itscontrary nature, and sees form gracefully shining forth in otherforms, it collects together the scattered whole, and introduces it toitself, and to the indivisible form within; and renders it consonant, congruous and friendly to its own intimate form. Thus, to the goodman, virtue shining forth in youth is lovely because consonant to thetrue virtue which lies deep in the soul. But the simple beauty ofcolour arises, when light, which is something incorporeal, andreason and form entering the obscure involutions of matter, irradiates and forms its dark and formless nature. It is on thisaccount that fire surpasses other bodies in beauty, because, compared with the other elements, it obtains the order of form; for itis more eminent than the rest, and is the most subtle of all, bordering, as it were, on an incorporeal nature. And too, that thoughimpervious itself it is intimately received by others, for it impartsheat, but admits no cold. Hence it is the first nature which isornamented with colour, and is the source of it to others; and on thisaccount it beams forth exalted like some immaterial form. But whenit cannot vanquish its subject, as participating but a slender light, itis no longer beautiful, because it does not receive the whole form ofcolour. Again, the music of the voice rouses the harmony latent inthe soul, and opens her eye to the perception of beauty, existing inmany the same. But it is the property of the harmony perceived bysense, to be measured by numbers, yet not in every proportion ofnumber or voice; but in that alone which is obedient to theproduction, and conquest of its species. And this much for thebeauties of sense, which, like images and shadows flowing intomatter, adorn with spectacles of beauty its formless being, and strikethe respective senses with wonder and delight. 

But it is now time, leaving every object of sense far behind, tocontemplate, by a certain ascent, a beauty of a much higher order; abeauty not visible to the corporeal eye, but alone manifest to thebrighter eye of the soul, independent of all corporeal aid. However, since, without some previous perception of beauty it is impossible toexpress by words the beauties of sense, but we must remain in thestate of the blind, so neither can we ever speak of the beauty ofoffices and sciences, and whatever is allied to these, if deprived oftheir intimate possession. Thus we shall never be able to tell ofvirtue's brightness, unless by looking inward we perceive the faircountenance of justice and temperance, and are convinced thatneither the evening nor morning star are half so beautiful and bright. But it is requisite to perceive objects of this kind by that eye bywhich the soul beholds such real beauties. Besides it is necessarythat whoever perceives this species of beauty, should be seized withmuch greater delight, and more vehement admiration, than anycorporeal beauty can excite; as now embracing beauty real andsubstantial. Such affections, I say, ought to be excited about truebeauty, as admiration and sweet astonishment; desire also and loveand a pleasant trepidation. For all souls, as I may say, are affected inthis manner about invisible objects, but those the most who have thestrongest propensity to their love; as it likewise happens aboutcorporeal beauty; for all equally perceive beautiful corporeal forms, yet all are not equally excited, but lovers in the greatest degree. 

But it may be allowable to interrogate those, who rise above sense, concerning the effects of love in this manner; of such we enquire, what do you suffer respecting fair studies, and beautiful manners, virtuous works, affections, and habits, and the beauty of souls? Whatdo you experience on perceiving yourselves lovely within? Afterwhat manner are you roused as it were to a Bacchalian fury; strivingto converse with yourselves, and collecting yourselves separate fromthe impediments of body? For thus are true lovers enraptured. Butwhat is the cause of these wonderful effects. It is neither figure, norcolour, nor magnitude; but soul herself, fair through temperance, and not with the false gloss of colour, and bright with the splendoursof virtue herself. And this you experience as often as you turn youreye inwards; or contemplate the amplitude of another soul; the justmanners, the pure temperance; fortitude venerable by her noblecountenance; and modesty and honesty walking with an intrepid step, and a tranquil and steady aspect; and what crowns the beauty ofthem all, constantly receiving the irradiations of a divine intellect. 

In what respect then, shall we call these beautiful? For they are suchas they appear, nor did ever anyone behold them, and not pronouncethem realities. But as yet reason desires to know how they cause theloveliness of the soul; and what that grace is in every virtue whichbeams forth to view like light? Are you then willing we shouldassume the contrary part, and consider what in the soul appearsdeformed? for perhaps it will facilitate our search, if we can thusfind what is base in the soul, and from whence it derives its original. 

Let us suppose a soul deformed, to be one intemperate and unjust, filled with a multitude of desires, a prey to foolish hopes and vexedwith idle fears; through its diminutive and avaricious nature thesubject of envy; employed solely in thought of what is immoral andlow, bound in the fetters of impure delights, living the life, whateverit may be, peculiar to the passion of body; and so totally merged insensuality as to esteem the base pleasant, and the deformed beautifuland fair. But may we not say, that this baseness approaches the soulas an adventitious evil, under the pretext of adventitious beauty;which, with great detriment, renders it impure, and pollutes it withmuch depravity; so that it neither possesses true life, nor true sense, but is endued with a slender life through its mixture of evil, and thisworn out by the continual depredations of death; no longerperceiving the objects of mental vision, nor permitted any more todwell with itself, because ever hurried away to things obscure, external and low? Hence, becoming impure, and being on all sidessnatched in the unceasing whirl of sensible forms, it is covered withcorporeal stains, and wholly given to matter, contracts deeply itsnature, loses all its original splendour, and almost changes its ownspecies into that of another; just as the pristine beauty of the mostlovely form would be destroyed by its total immersion in mire andclay. But the deformity of the first arises from inward filth, of itsown contracting; of the second, from the accession of some foreignnature. If such a one then desires to recover his former beauty, it isnecessary to cleanse the infected parts, and thus by a thoroughpurgation to resume his original form. Hence, then if we assert thatthe soul, by her mixture, confusion and commerce with body andmatter, becomes thus base, our assertion will, I think, be right. Forthe baseness of the soul consists in not being pure and sincere. Andas the gold is deformed by the adherence of earthly clods, which areno sooner removed than on a sudden the gold shines forth with itsnative purity; and then becomes beautiful when separated fromnatures foreign from its own, and when it is content with its ownpurity for the possession of beauty; so the soul, when separated fromthe sordid desires engendered by its too great immersion in body, and liberated from the dominion of every perturbation, can thus andthus only, blot out the base stains imbibed from its union with body;and thus becoming alone, will doubtless expel all the turpitudecontracted from a nature so opposite to its own. 

Indeed, as the ancient oracle declares, temperance and fortitude, prudence and every virtue, are certain purgatives of the soul; andhence the sacred mysteries prophesy obscurely, yet with truth, thatthe soul not purified lies in Tartarus, immersed in filth. Since theimpure is, from his depravity, the friend of filth, as swine, from theirsordid body, delight in mire alone. 

For what else is true temperance than not to indulge in corporealdelights, but to fly from their connection, as things which are neitherpure, nor the offspring of purity? And true fortitude is not to feardeath; for death is nothing more than a certain separation of soulfrom body, and this he will not fear, who desires to be alone. Again, magnanimity is the contempt of every mortal concern; it is the wingby which we fly into the regions of intellect. And lastly, prudence isno other than intelligence, declining subordinate objects; anddirecting the eye of the soul to that which is immortal and divine. The soul, thus defined, becomes form and reason, is altogetherincorporeal and intellectual, and wholly participates of that divinenature, which is the fountain of loveliness, and of whatever is alliedto the beautiful and fair. Hence the soul reduced to intellect becomesastonishingly beautiful; for as the lambent flame which appearsdetached from the burning wood, enlightens its dark and smokyparts, so intellect irradiates and adorns the inferior powers of thesoul, which, without its aid, would be buried in the gloom offormless matter. But intellect, and whatever emanates from intellect, is not the foreign, but the proper ornament of the soul, for the beingof the soul, when absorbed in intellect, is then alone real and true. Itis, therefore, rightly said, that the beauty and good of the soulconsists in her similitude to the Deity_;_ for from hence flows allher beauty, and her allotment of a better being. But the beautifulitself is that which is called beings; and turpitude is of a differentnature and participates more of non-entity than being. 

But, perhaps, the good and the beautiful are the same, and must beinvestigated by one and the same process; and in like manner thebase and the evil. And in the first rank we must place the beautiful, and consider it as the same with the good; from which immediatelyemanates intellect as beautiful. Next to this, we must consider thesoul receiving its beauty from intellect, and every inferior beautyderiving its origin from the forming power of the soul, whetherconversant in fair actions and offices, or sciences and arts. Lastly, bodies themselves participate of beauty from the soul, which, assomething divine, and a portion of the beautiful itself, renderswhatever it supervenes and subdues, beautiful as far as its naturalcapacity will admit. 

Let us, therefore, re-ascend to the good itself, which every souldesires; and in which it can alone find perfect repose. For if anyoneshall become acquainted with this source of beauty he will thenknow what I say, and after what manner he is beautiful. Indeed, whatever is desirable is a kind of good, since to this desire tends. But they alone pursue true good, who rise to intelligible beauty, andso far only tend to good itself; as far as they lay aside the deformedvestments of matter, with which they become connected in theirdescent. Just as those who penetrate into the holy retreats of sacredmysteries, are first purified and then divest themselves of theirgarments, until someone by such a process, having dismissedeverything foreign from the God, by himself alone, beholds thesolitary principle of the universe, sincere, simple and pure, fromwhich all things depend, and to whose transcendent perfections theeyes of all intelligent natures are directed, as the proper cause ofbeing, life and intelligence. With what ardent love, with what strongdesire will he who enjoys this transporting vision be inflamed whilevehemently affecting to become one with this supreme beauty! Forthis it is ordained, that he who does not yet perceive him, yet desireshim as good, but he who enjoys the vision is enraptured with hisbeauty, and is equally filled with admiration and delight. Hence, such a one is agitated with a salutary astonishment; is affected withthe highest and truest love; derides vehement affections and inferiorloves, and despises the beauty which he once approved. Such, too, isthe condition of those who, on perceiving the forms of gods ordaemons, no longer esteem the fairest of corporeal forms. What, then, must be the condition of that being, who beholds the beautifulitself?

In itself perfectly pure[7], not confined by any corporeal bond, neither existing in the heavens, nor in the earth, nor to be imaged bythe most lovely form imagination can conceive; since these are alladventitious and mixed, and mere secondary beauties, proceedingfrom the beautiful itself. If, then, anyone should ever behold thatwhich is the source of munificence to others, remaining in itself, while it communicates to all, and receiving nothing, becausepossessing an inexhaustible fulness; and should so abide in theintuition, as to become similar to his nature, what more of beautycan such a one desire? For such beauty, since it is supreme indignity and excellence, cannot fail of rendering its votaries lovelyand fair. Add too, that since the object of contest to souls is thehighest beauty, we should strive for its acquisition with unabatedardour, lest we should be deserted of that blissful contemplation, which, whoever pursues in the right way, becomes blessed from thehappy vision; and which he who does not obtain is unavoidablyunhappy. For the miserable man is not he who neglects to pursuefair colours, and beautiful corporeal forms; who is deprived ofpower, and falls from dominion and empire but he alone who isdestitute of this divine possession, for which the ample dominion ofthe earth and sea and the still more extended empire of the heavens, must be relinquished and forgot, if, despising and leaving these farbehind, we ever intend to arrive at substantial felicity, by beholdingthe beautiful itself. 

What measures, then, shall we adopt? What machine employ, orwhat reason consult by means of which we may contemplate thisineffable beauty; a beauty abiding in the most divine sanctuarywithout ever proceeding from its sacred retreats lest it should bebeheld by the profane and vulgar eye? We must enter deep intoourselves, and, leaving behind the objects of corporeal sight, nolonger look back after any of the accustomed spectacles of sense. For, it is necessary that whoever beholds this beauty, shouldwithdraw his view from the fairest corporeal forms; and, convincedthat these are nothing more than images, vestiges and shadows ofbeauty, should eagerly soar to the fair original from which they arederived. For he who rushes to these lower beauties, as if graspingrealities, when they are only like beautiful images appearing inwater, will, doubtless, like him in the fable, by stretching after theshadow, sink into the lake and disappear. For, by thus embracingand adhering to corporeal forms, he is precipitated, not so much inhis body as in his soul, into profound and horrid darkness; and thusblind, like those in the infernal regions, converses only withphantoms, deprived of the perception of what is real and true. It ishere, then, we may more truly exclaim, "Let us depart from hence, and fly to our father's delightful land". [8] But, by what leading starsshall we direct our flight, and by what means avoid the magic powerof Circe, and the detaining charms of Calypso?[9] For thus the fableof Ulysses obscurely signifies, which feigns him abiding anunwilling exile, though pleasant spectacles were continuallypresented to his sight; and everything was promised to invite his staywhich can delight the senses, and captivate the heart. But our truecountry, like that of Ulysses, is from whence we came, and whereour father lives. But where is the ship to be found by which we canaccomplish our flight? For our feet are unequal to the task since theyonly take us from one part of the earth to another. May we not eachof us say, "What ships have I, what sailors to convey, What oars to cut the long laborious way". [10]

But it is in vain that we prepare horses to draw our ships to transportus to our native land. On the contrary, neglecting all these, asunequal to the task, and excluding them entirely from our view, having now closed the corporeal eye, [11] we must stir up andassume a purer eye within, which all men possess, but which isalone used by a few. What is it, then, this inward eye beholds?Indeed, suddenly raised to intellectual vision, it cannot perceive anobject exceeding bright. The soul must therefore be first accustomedto contemplate fair studies and then beautiful works, not such asarise from the operations of art, but such as are the offspring ofworthy men; and next to this it is necessary to view the soul, whichis the parent of this lovely race. But you will ask, after what manneris this beauty of a worthy soul to be perceived? It is thus. Recallyour thoughts inward, and if while contemplating yourself, you donot perceive yourself beautiful, imitate the statuary; who when hedesires a beautiful statue cuts away what is superfluous, smoothsand polishes what is rough, and never desists until he has given it allthe beauty his art is able to effect. In this manner must you proceed, by lopping what is luxuriant, directing what is oblique, and, bypurgation, illustrating what is obscure, and thus continue to polishand beautify your statue until the divine splendour of Virtue shinesupon you, and Temperance seated in pure and holy majesty rises toyour view. If you become thus purified residing in yourself, andhaving nothing any longer to impede this unity of mind, and nofarther mixture to be found within, but perceiving your whole self tobe a true light, and light alone; a light which though immense is notmeasured by any magnitude, nor limited by any circumscribingfigure, but is everywhere immeasurable, as being greater than everymeasure, and more excellent than every quantity; if, perceivingyourself thus improved, and trusting solely to yourself, as no longerrequiring a guide, fix now steadfastly your mental view, for with theintellectual eye alone can such immense beauty be perceived. But ifyour eye is yet infected with any sordid concern, and not thoroughlyrefined, while it is on the stretch to behold this most shiningspectacle, it will be immediately darkened and incapable of intuition, though someone should declare the spectacle present, which it mightbe otherwise able to discern. For, it is here necessary that theperceiver and the thing perceived should be similar to each otherbefore true vision can exist. Thus the sensitive eye can never be ableto survey, the orb of the sun, unless strongly endued with solar fire, and participating largely off the vivid ray. Everyone therefore mustbecome divine, and of godlike beauty, before he can gaze upon agod and the beautiful itself. Thus proceeding in the right way ofbeauty he will first ascend into the region of intellect, contemplatingevery fair species, the beauty of which he will perceive to be noother than ideas themselves; for all things are beautiful by thesupervening irradiations of these, because they are the offspring andessence of intellect. But that which is superior to these is no otherthan the fountain of good, everywhere widely diffusing around thestreams of beauty, and hence in discourse called the beautiful itselfbecause beauty is its immediate offspring. But if you accuratelydistinguish the intelligible objects you will call the beautiful thereceptacle of ideas; but the good itself, which is superior, thefountain and principle of the beautiful; or, you may place the firstbeautiful and the good in the same principle, independent of thebeauty which there subsists. [12]

NOTES

1 Pope's Homer's _Odyssey, _ Book xiii. , ver. 37. 

2 _Odyssey, _ Book xiii. , ver. 223. 

3 _Odyssey, _ Book vii. , ver. 303. 

4 It is necessary to inform the Platonical reader, that the Beautiful, in the present discourse, is considered according to its most generalacceptation, as the same with the Good: though, according to a moreaccurate distinction, as Plotinus himself informs us, the Good isconsidered as the fountain and principle of the Beautiful. I think itlikewise proper to observe, that as I have endeavoured, by myparaphrase, to render as much as possible the obscure parts evident, and to expand those sentences which are so very much contracted inthe original, I shall be sparing of notes; for my design is not toaccommodate the sublimest truths to the meanest understandings (asthis would be a contemptible and useless prostitution), but to renderthem perspicuous to truly liberal and philosophic minds. My reasonsfor adopting this mode of paraphrase, may be seen in the preface tomy translation of _Orpheus's Hymns. _

5 "Enters deep into its essence, " etc. The Platonic Philosophy insistsmuch on the necessity of retiring into ourselves in order to thediscovery of truth; and on this account Socrates, in the first_Alcibiades, _ says that the soul entering into herself willcontemplate whatever exists and the divinity himself. Upon whichProclus thus comments, with his usual elegance and depth (in_Theol. Plat, _ p. 7): "For the soul, " says he, "contracting herselfwholly into a union with herself, and into the centre of universal life, and removing the multitude and variety of all-various powers, ascends into the highest place of speculation, from whence she willsurvey the nature of beings. For if she looks back upon thingsposterior to her essence, she will perceive nothing but the shadowsand resemblances of beings; but if she returns into herself she willevolve her own essence, and the reasons she contains. And at firstindeed she will, as it were, only behold herself; but when by herknowledge she penetrates more profoundly in her investigations shewill find intellect seated in her essence and the universal orders ofbeings; but when she advances into the more interior recesses ofherself, and as it were into the sanctuary of the soul, she will beenabled to contemplate, with her eyes closed to corporeal vision, thegenus of the gods and the unities of beings. For all things reside inus, after a manner correspondent to the nature of the soul; and onthis account we are naturally enabled to know all things, by excitingour inherent powers and images of whatever exists. "

6 "And such is matter, " etc. There is nothing affords morewonderful speculation than matter, which ranks as the last amongthe universality of things, and has the same relation to being asshade to substance. For, as in an ascending series of causes it isnecessary to arrive at something, which is the first cause of all, andto which no perfection is wanting; so in a descending series ofsubjects, it is equally necessary we should stop at some generalsubject, the lowest in the order of things, and to which everyperfection of being is denied. But let us hear the profound andadmirable description which Plotinus gives us of matter (lib. Vi. , Ennead 3), and of which the following is a paraphrase: "Sincematter, " says he, "is neither soul, nor intellect, nor life, nor form, norreason, nor bound, but a certain indefiniteness; nor yet capacity, forwhat can it produce? Since it is foreign from all these, it cannotmerit the appellation of being, but is deservedly called non-entity. Nor yet is it non-entity in the manner as motion or station; but it istrue non-entity, the mere shadow and imagination of bulk and thedesire of subsistence; abiding without station, of itself invisible, andavoiding the desire of him who wishes to perceive its nature. Hence, when no one perceives it, it is then in a manner present, but cannotbe viewed by him who strives intently to behold it. Again, in itselfcontraries always appear, the small and the great, the less and themore, deficience and excess. So that it is a phantom, neither abidingnor yet able to fly away; capable of no one denomination andpossessing no power from intellect, but constituted in the defect andshade, as it were, of all real being. Hence, too, in each of itsvanishing appellations it eludes our search; for if we think of it assomething great, it is in the meantime small; if as something more, itbecomes less; and the apparent being which we meet with in itsimage is non-being, and as it were a flying mockery. So that theforms which appear in matter are merely ludicrous, shadows fallingupon shadow, as in a mirror, where the position of a thing isdifferent from its real situation; and which, though apparently full offorms, possesses nothing real and true--but imitations of being andsemblances flowing about a formless semblance. They appear, indeed, to affect something in the subject matter, but in realityproduce nothing; from their debile and flowing nature being enduedwith no solidity and no rebounding power. And since matter, likewise, has no solidity they penetrate it without division, likeimages in water, or as if anyone should fill a vacuum with forms. "

7 "In itself perfectly pure. " This is analogous to the description ofthe beautiful in the latter part of Diotima's Speech in the _Banquet_;a speech which is surely unequalled, both for elegance ofcomposition and sublimity of sentiment. Indeed, all the disciples ofPlato are remarkable for nothing so much as their profound andexalted conceptions of the Deity; and he who can read the works ofPlotinus and Proclus in particular, and afterwards pity the weaknessand erroneousness of their opinions on this subject, may be fairlypresumed to be himself equally an object of pity and contempt. 

8 "Let us depart, " etc. , _vide_ Hom. , _Iliad, _ lib. Ii. , 140, et lib. Ix. , 27. 

9 Porphyry informs us in his excellent treatise, _De Antro Nymph, _that it was the opinion of Numenius, the Pythagorean (to which healso assents), that the person of Ulysses in the _Odyssey, _represents to us a man, who passes in a regular manner, over thedark and stormy sea of generation; and thus, at length, arrives at thatregion where tempests and seas are unknown, and finds a nationwho

 "Ne'er knew salt, or heard the billows roar. "

Indeed, he who is conscious of the delusions of the present life andthe enchantments of this material house, in which his soul isdetained like Ulysses in the irriguous cavern of Calypso, will likehim continually bewail his captivity, and inly pine for a return to hisnative country. Of such a one it may be said as of Ulysses (in theexcellent and pathetic translation of Mr Pope):

 "But sad Ulysses by himself apart Pour'd the big sorrows of his swelling heart, All on the lonely shore he sate to weep And roll'd his eyes around the restless deep Tow'rd the lov'd coast he roll'd his eyes in vain Till, dimmed with rising grief, they stream'd again. " _Odyssey, _ book v. , 103. 

Such a one too, like Ulysses, will not always wish in vain for apassage over the dark ocean of a corporeal life, but by the assistanceof Mercury, who may be considered as the emblem of reason, hewill at length be enabled to quit the magic embraces of Calypso, theGoddess of Imagination, and to return again into the arms ofPenelope, or Philosophy, the long lost and proper object of his love. 

10 See Pope's Homer's _Odyssey, _ book v. , 182. 

11 "We must stir up and assume a purer eye within. " This inwardeye is no other than intellect, which contains in its most inwardrecesses a certain ray of light, participated from the sun of Beautyand Good, by which the soul is enabled to behold and become unitedwith her divinely solitary original. This divine ray, or, as Procluscalls it, mark or impression, is thus beautifully described by thatphilosopher _(Theol. Plat, _ p. 105): "The Author of the Universe, "says he, "has planted in all beings impressions of his own perfectexcellence, and through these he has placed all beings about himself, and is present with them in an ineffable manner, exempt from theuniversality of things. Hence, every being entering into the ineffablesanctuary of its own nature finds there a symbol of the Father of all. And by this mystical impression which corresponds to his naturethey become united with their original, divesting themselves of theirown essence and hastening to become his impression alone; and, through a desire of his unknown nature and of the fountain of good, to participate in him alone. And when they have ascended as far asto this cause they enjoy perfect tranquillity and are conversant in theperception of his divine progeny and of the love which all thingsnaturally possess, and goodness, unknown, ineffable, withoutparticipation and transcendently full. "

12 But before I take my leave of Plotinus, I cannot refrain fromaddressing a few words to the Platonical part of my readers. If suchthen is the wisdom contained in the works of this philosopher, as wemay conclude from the present specimen, is it fit so divine a treasureshould be concealed in shameful oblivion? With respect to truephilosophy you must be sensible that all modern sects are in a stateof barbarous ignorance; for Materialism and its attendant Sensualityhave darkened the eyes of the _many_ with the mists of error, andare continually strengthening their corporeal tie. And can anythingmore effectually dissipate this increasing gloom than discoursescomposed by so sublime a genius, pregnant with the most profoundconceptions, and everywhere full of intellectual light? Can anythingso thoroughly destroy the phantom of false enthusiasm asestablishing the real object of the true? Let us then boldly enlistourselves under the banners of Plotinus, and, by his assistance, vigorously repel the encroachments of error, plunge her dominionsinto the abyss of forgetfulness, and disperse the darkness of herbaneful night. For indeed there never was a period which required somuch philosophic exertion, or such vehement contention from thelovers of Truth. On all sides nothing of philosophy remains but thename, and this is become the subject of the vilest prostitution; sinceit is not only engrossed by the naturalist, chemist, and anatomist, butis usurped by the mechanic in every trifling invention, and madesubservient to the lucre of traffic and merchandise. There cannotsurely be a greater proof of the degeneracy of the times than sounparalleled a degradation and so barbarous a perversion of terms. For the word philosophy, which implies the love of wisdom, is nowbecome the ornament of folly. In the times of its inventor, and formany succeeding ages, it was expressive of modesty and worth; inour days it is the badge of impudence and vain pretensions. It wasformerly the symbol of the profound contemplative genius, it is nowthe mark of the superficial and unthinking practitioner. It was oncereverenced by kings and clothed in the robes of nobility; it is now(according to its true acceptation) abandoned and despised andridiculed by the vilest plebeian. Permit me, then, my friends, toaddress you in the words of Achilles to Hector:

 "Rouse, then, your forces this important hour, Collect your strength and call forth all your pow'r. "

Since, to adopt the animated language of Neptune to the Greeks, " . . . On dastards, dead to fame, I waste no anger, for they feel no shame, But you, the pride, the flower of all our host, My heart weeps blood, to see your glory lost. "

Nor deem the exhortation impertinent, and the danger groundless:

 "For lo! the fated time, th' appointed shore, Hark, the gates burst, the brazen barriers roar. "

Impetuous ignorance is thundering at the bulwarks of philosophyand her sacred retreats are in danger of being demolished, throughour feeble resistance. Rise then, my friends, and the victory will beours. The foe is indeed numerous, but at the same time feeble; andthe weapons of truth in the hands of vigorous union, descend withirresistible force, and are fatal wherever they fall. 

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[Transcriber's notes: I have made minor changes to the punctuationand the format of the notes. I have also made the following spellingchanges:

 "powerfully attacts" to "powerfully attracts"

 "converses only with plantoms" to "converses only with phantoms"]