{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_29510/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_29510","id":"gutenberg_29510","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/29510","summary":null,"tags":["Aesthetics -- Early works to 1800","Category: Philosophy & Ethics"],"text":"Produced by Ruth Hart\n\n\n\n\nAN ESSAY ON THE BEAUTIFUL\n_(From the Greek of Plotinus)_\n\n\nTranslated by\nThomas Taylor\n\n\nLondon\nJohn M. Watkins\n21 Cecil Court, Charing Cross Road\n1917\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nIt may seem wonderful that language, which is the only method of\nconveying our conceptions, should, at the same time, be an\nhindrance to our advancement in philosophy; but the wonder ceases\nwhen we consider, that it is seldom studied as the vehicle of truth,\nbut is too frequently esteemed for its own sake, independent of its\nconnection with things. This observation is remarkably verified in\nthe Greek language; which, as it is the only repository of ancient\nwisdom, has, unfortunately for us, been the means of concealing, in\nshameful obscurity, the most profound researches and the sublimest\ntruths. That words, indeed, are not otherwise valuable than as\nsubservient to things, must surely be acknowledged by every liberal\nmind, and will alone be disputed by him who has spent the prime of\nhis life, and consumed the vigour of his understanding, in verbal\ncriticisms and grammatical trifles. And, if this is the case, every\nlover of truth will only study a language for the purpose of\nprocuring the wisdom it contains; and will doubtless wish to make\nhis native language the vehicle of it to others. For, since all truth is\neternal, its nature can never be altered by transposition, though by\nthis means its dress may be varied, and become less elegant and\nrefined. Perhaps even this inconvenience may be remedied by\nsedulous cultivation; at least, the particular inability of some, ought\nnot to discourage the well-meant endeavours of others. Whoever\nreads the lives of the ancient Heroes of Philosophy, must be\nconvinced that they studied things more than words, and that Truth\nalone was the ultimate object of their search; and he who wishes to\nemulate their glory and participate their wisdom, will study their\ndoctrines more than their language, and value the depth of their\nunderstandings far beyond the elegance of their composition. The\nnative charms of Truth will ever be sufficient to allure the truly\nphilosophic mind; and he who has once discovered her retreats will\nsurely endeavour to fix a mark by which they may be detected by\nothers.\n\nBut, though the mischief arising from the study of words is\nprodigious, we must not consider it as the only cause of darkening\nthe splendours of Truth, and obstructing the free diffusion of her\nlight. Different manners and philosophies have equally contributed\nto banish the goddess from our realms, and to render our eyes\noffended with her celestial light. Hence we must not wonder that,\nbeing indignant at the change, and perceiving the empire of\nignorance rising to unbounded dominion, she has retired from the\nspreading darkness, and concealed herself in the tranquil and\ndivinely lucid regions of mind. For we need but barely survey\nmodern pursuits to be convinced how little they are connected with\nwisdom. Since, to describe the nature of some particular place, the\nform, situation and magnitude of a certain city; to trace the windings\nof a river to its source, or delineate the aspect of a pleasant mountain;\nto calculate the fineness of the silkworm's threads, and arrange the\ngaudy colours of butterflies; in short, to pursue matter through its\ninfinite divisions, and wander in its dark labyrinths, is the\nemployment of the philosophy in vogue. But surely the energies of\nintellect are more worthy our concern than the operations of sense;\nand the science of universals, permanent and fixed, must be superior\nto the knowledge of particulars, fleeting and frail. Where is a\nsensible object to be found, which abides for a moment the same;\nwhich is not either rising to perfection, or verging to decay; which is\nnot mixed and confused with its contrary; whose flowing nature no\nresistance can stop, nor any art confine? Where is the chemist who,\nby the most accurate analyzation can arrive at the principles of\nbodies; or who, though he might be so lucky in his search as to\ndetect the atoms of Democritus, could by this means give respite to\nmental investigation? For every atom, since endued with figure,\nmust consist of parts, though indissolubly cemented together; and\nthe immediate cause of this cement must be something incorporeal\nor knowledge can have no stability and enquiry no end. Where, says\nMr Harris, is the microscope which can discern what is smallest in\nnature? Where the telescope which can see at what point in the\nuniverse wisdom first began? Since, then, there is no portion of\nmatter which may not be the subject of experiments without end, let\nus betake ourselves to the regions of mind, where all things are\nbounded in intellectual measure; where everything is permanent and\nbeautiful, eternal and divine. Let us quit the study of particulars, for\nthat which is general and comprehensive, and through this, learn to\nsee and recognize whatever exists.\n\nWith a view to this desirable end, I have presented the reader with a\nspecimen of that sublime wisdom which first arose in the colleges of\nthe Egyptian priests, and flourished afterwards in Greece; which was\nthere cultivated by Pythagoras, under the mysterious veil of numbers;\nby Plato, in the graceful dress of poetry; and was systematized by\nAristotle, as far as it could be reduced into scientific order; which,\nafter becoming in a manner extinct, shone again with its pristine\nsplendour among the philosophers of the Alexandrian school; was\nlearnedly illustrated with Asiatic luxuriancy of style by Proclus; was\ndivinely explained by Iamblichus: and profoundly delivered in the\nwritings of Plotinus. Indeed, the works of this last philosopher are\nparticularly valuable to all who desire to penetrate into the depths of\nthis divine wisdom. From the exalted nature of his genius, he was\ncalled Intellect by his contemporaries, and is said to have composed\nhis books under the influence of divine illumination. Porphyry\nrelates, in his life, that he was four times united by an ineffable\nenergy with the divinity; which, however such an account may be\nridiculed in the present age, will be credited by everyone who has\nproperly explored the profundity of his mind. The facility and\nvehemence of his composition was such, that when he had once\nconceived a subject, he wrote as from an internal pattern, without\npaying much attention to the orthography, or reviewing what he had\nwritten; for the celestial vigour of his intellect rendered him\nincapable of trifling concerns, and in this respect, inferior to\ncommon understandings, as the eagle, which in its bold flight\npierces the clouds, skims the surface of the earth with less rapidity\nthan the swallow. Indeed a minute attention to trifles is inconsistent\nwith great genius of every kind, and it is on this account that\nretirement is so absolutely necessary to the discovery of truths of the\nfirst dignity and importance; for how is it possible to mix much with\nthe world, without imbibing the false and puerile conceptions of the\nmultitude; and without losing that true elevation of soul which\ncomparatively despises every mortal concern? Plotinus, therefore,\nconscious of the incorrectness of his writings arising from the\nrapidity, exuberance and daring sublimity of his thoughts,\ncommitted their revision to his disciple Porphyry; who, though\ninferior in depth of thought to his master, was, on account of his\nextraordinary abilities, called by way of eminence the Philosopher.\n\nThe design of the following discourse is to bring us to the perception\nof the beautiful itself, even while connected with a corporeal nature,\nwhich must be the great end of all true philosophy and which\nPlotinus happily obtained. To a genius, indeed, truly modern, with\nwhom the crucible and the air-pump are alone the standards of Truth,\nsuch an attempt must appear ridiculous in the extreme. With these,\nnothing is real but what the hand can grasp or the corporeal eye\nperceives, and nothing useful but what pampers the appetite or fills\nthe purse; but unfortunately, their perceptions, like Homer's frail\ndreams, pass through the ivory gate; and are consequently empty\nand fallacious, and contain nothing belonging to the vigilant soul.\nTo such as these a treatise on the beautiful cannot be addressed;\nsince its object is too exalted to be approached by those engaged in\nthe impurities of sense, and too bright to be seen by the eye\naccustomed to the obscurity of corporeal vision. But it is alone\nproper to him who is sensible that his soul is strongly marked with\nruin by its union with body; who considers himself in the language\nof Empedocles, as\n\n     \"Heaven's exile, straying from the orb of light\";\n\nand who so ardently longs for a return to his true country, that to\nhim, as to Ulysses when fighting for Ithaca,\n\n     \"Slow seems the fun to move, the hours to roll;\n     His native home deep-imag'd in his soul\".[1]\n\nBut here it is requisite to observe that our ascent to this region of\nBeauty must be made by gradual advances, for, from our association\nwith matter, it is impossible to pass directly, and without a medium,\nto such transcendent perfection; but we must proceed in a manner\nsimilar to those who pass from darkness to the brightest light, by\nadvancing from places moderately enlightened, to such as are the\nmost luminous of all. It is necessary therefore, that we should\nbecome very familiar with the most abstract contemplations; and\nthat our intellectual eye should be strongly irradiated with the light\nof ideas which precedes the splendours of the beautiful itself, like\nthe brightness which is seen on the summit of mountains previous to\nthe rising of the sun. Nor ought it to seem strange, if it should be\nsome time before even the liberal soul can recognize the beautiful\nprogeny of intellect as its kindred and allies; for, from its union with\nbody, it has drunk deep of the cup of oblivion, and all its energetic\npowers are stupefied by the intoxicating draught; so that the\nintelligible world, on its first appearance, is utterly unknown by us,\nand our recollection of its inhabitants entirely lost; and we become\nfamiliar to Ulysses on his first entrance into Ithaca, of whom Homer\nsays,\n\n     \"Yet had his mind, thro' tedious absence lost\n     The dear remembrance of his native coast\".[2]\n\nFor,\n\n     \"Now all the land another prospect bore,\n     Another port appeared, another shore,\n     And long-continued ways, and winding floods\n     And unknown mountains crowned with unknown woods\":\n\nuntil the goddess of wisdom purges our eyes from the mists of sense\nand says to each of us, as she did to Ulysses,\n\n     \"Now lift thy longing eyes, while I restore\n     The pleasing prospect of thy native shore.\"\n\nFor then will\n\n          \" . . . . the prospect clear,\n     The mists disperse, and all the coast appear.\"\n\nLet us then, humbly supplicate the irradiations of wisdom, and\nfollow Plotinus as our divine guide to the beatific vision of the\nBeautiful itself; for in this alone can we find perfect repose, and\nrepair those destructive clefts and chinks of the soul which its\ndeparture from the light of good, and its lapse into a corporeal nature,\nhave introduced.\n\nBut before I conclude, I think it necessary to caution the reader not\nto mix any modern enthusiastic opinions with the doctrines\ncontained in the following discourse; for there is not a greater\ndifference between substance and shade than between ancient and\nmodern enthusiasm. The object of the former was the highest good\nand supreme beauty; but that of the latter is nothing more than a\nphantom raised by bewildered imaginations, floating on the unstable\nocean of opinion, the sport of the waves of prejudice and blown\nabout by the breath of factious party. Like substance and shade,\nindeed they possess a similitude in outward appearance, but in\nreality they are perfect contraries; for the one fills the mind with\nsolid and durable good, but the other with empty delusions; which\nlike the ever-running waters of the Danaides, glide away as fast as\nthey enter, and leave nothing behind but the ruinous passages\nthrough which they flowed.\n\nI only add, that the ensuing treatise is designed as a specimen\n(if it should meet with encouragement) of my intended mode of\npublishing all the works of Plotinus. The undertaking is, I am\nsensible, arduous in the extreme; and the disciples of wisdom are\nunfortunately few; but, as I desire no other reward of my labour,\nthan to have the expense of printing defrayed, and to see Truth\npropagated in my native tongue; I hope those few will enable me to\nobtain the completion of my desires. For then, to adopt the words of\nUlysses,\n\n     \"That view vouchsaf'd, let instant death surprise\n     With ever-during shade these happy eyes!\"[3]\n\n\n\nCONCERNING THE BEAUTIFUL\n\nBeauty[4] for the most part, consists in objects of sight; but it is also\nreceived through the ears, by the skilful composition of words, and\nthe consonant proportion of sounds; for in every species of harmony,\nbeauty is to be found. And if we rise from sense into the regions of\nsoul, we shall there perceive studies and offices, actions and habits,\nsciences and virtues, invested with a much larger portion of beauty.\nBut whether there is above these, a still higher beauty, will appear as\nwe advance in its investigation. What is it then, which causes bodies\nto appear fair to the sight, sounds beautiful to the ear, and science\nand virtue lovely to the mind? May we not enquire after what\nmanner they all partake of beauty? Whether beauty is one and the\nsame in all? Or, whether the beauty of bodies is of one kind, and the\nbeauty of souls of another? And again, what these are, if they are\ntwo? Or, what beauty is, if perfectly simple, and one? For some\nthings, as bodies, are doubtless beautiful, not from the natures of the\nsubjects in which they reside, but rather by some kind of\nparticipation; but others again appear to be essentially beautiful, or\nbeauties themselves; and such is the nature of virtue. For, with\nrespect, to the same bodies, they appear beautiful to one person, and\nthe reverse of beauty to another; as if the essence of body were a\nthing different from the essence of beauty. In the first place then,\nwhat is that, which, by its presence, causes the beauty of bodies? Let\nus reflect, what most powerfully attracts the eyes of beholders, and\nseizes the spectator with rapturous delight; for if we can find what\nthis is, we may perhaps use it as a ladder, enabling us to ascend into\nthe region of beauty, and survey its immeasurable extent.\n\nIt is the general opinion that a certain commensuration of parts to\neach other, and to the whole, with the addition, of colour, generates\nthat beauty which is the object of sight; and that in the\ncommensurate and the moderate alone the beauty of everything\nconsists. But from such an opinion the compound only, and not the\nsimple, can be beautiful, the single parts will have no peculiar\nbeauty; and will only merit that appellation by conferring to the\nbeauty of the whole. But it is surely necessary that a lovely whole\nshould consist of beautiful parts, for the fair can never rise out of the\ndeformed. But from such a definition, it follows, that beautiful\ncolours and the light of the sun, since they are simple and do not\nreceive their beauty from commensuration, must be excluded the\nregions of beauty. Besides, how, from such an hypothesis can gold\nbe beautiful? Or the glittering of night and the glorious spectacle of\nthe stars? In like manner, the most simple musical sounds will be\nforeign from beauty, though in a song wholly beautiful every note\nmust be beautiful, as necessary to the being of the whole. Again,\nsince the same proportion remaining, the same face is to one person\nbeautiful and to another the reverse, is it not necessary to call\nthe beauty of the commensurate one kind of beauty and the\ncommensuration another kind, and that the commensurate is fair by\nmeans of something else? But if transferring themselves to beautiful\nstudies and fair discourses, they shall assign as the cause of beauty\nin these the proportion of measure, what is that which in beautiful\nsciences, laws or disciplines, is called commensurate proportion? Or\nin what manner can speculations themselves be called mutually\ncommensurate? If it be said because of the inherent concord, we\nreply that there is a certain concord and consent in evil souls, a\nconformity of sentiment, in believing (as it is said) that temperance\nis folly and justice generous ignorance. It appears, therefore, that the\nbeauty of the soul is every virtue, and this species of the beautiful\npossesses far greater reality than any of the superior we have\nmentioned. But after what manner in this is commensuration to be\nfound? For it is neither like the symmetry in magnitude nor in\nnumbers. And since the parts of the soul are many, in what\nproportion and synthesis, in what temperament of parts or concord\nof speculations, does beauty consist? Lastly, of what kind is the\nbeauty of intellect itself, abstracted from every corporeal concern,\nand intimately conversing with itself alone?\n\nWe still, therefore, repeat the question, What is the beauty of bodies?\nIt is something which at first view presents itself to sense, and which\nthe soul familiarly apprehends and eagerly embraces, as if it were\nallied to itself. But when it meets with the deformed, it hastily starts\nfrom the view and retires abhorrent from its discordant nature. For\nsince the soul in its proper state ranks according to the most\nexcellent essence in the order of things, when it perceives any object\nrelated to itself, or the mere vestige of a relation, it congratulates\nitself on the pleasing event, and astonished with the striking\nresemblance[5] enters deep into its essence, and, by rousing its\ndormant powers, at length perfectly recollects its kindred and allies.\nWhat is the similitude then between the beauties of sense and that\nbeauty which is divine? For if there be any similitude the respective\nobjects must be similar. But after what manner are the two beautiful?\nFor it is by participation of species that we call every sensible object\nbeautiful. Thus, since everything void of form is by nature fitted for\nits reception, as far as it is destitute of reason and form it is base and\nseparate from the divine reason, the great fountain of forms; and\nwhatever is entirely remote from this immortal source is perfectly\nbase and deformed.[6] And such is matter, which by its nature is\never averse from the supervening irradiations of form. Whenever,\ntherefore, form accedes, it conciliates in amicable unity the parts\nwhich are about to compose a whole; for being itself one it is not\nwonderful that the subject of its power should tend to unity, as far as\nthe nature of a compound will admit. Hence beauty is established in\nmultitude when the many is reduced into one, and in this case it\ncommunicates itself both to the parts and to the whole. But when a\nparticular one, composed from similar parts, is received it gives\nitself to the whole, without departing from the sameness and\nintegrity of its nature. Thus at one and the same time it\ncommunicates itself to the whole building and its several parts; and\nat another time confines itself to a single stone, and then the first\nparticipation arises from the operations of art, but the second from\nthe formation of nature. And hence body becomes beautiful through\nthe communion supernally proceeding from divinity.\n\nBut the soul, by her innate power, than which nothing more\npowerful, in judging its proper concerns, when another soul concurs\nin the decision, acknowledges the beauty of forms. And, perhaps, its\nknowledge in this case arises from its accommodating its internal\nray of beauty to form, and trusting to this in its judgment; in the\nsame manner as a rule is employed in the decision of what is straight.\nBut how can that which is inherent in body, accord with that which\nis above body? Let us reply by asking how the architect pronounces\nthe building beautiful by accommodating the external structure the\nfabric of his soul? Perhaps, because the outward building, when\nentirely deprived of the stones, is no other than the intrinsic form,\ndivided by the external mass of matter, but indivisibly existing,\nthough appearing in the many. When, therefore, sense beholds the\nform in bodies, at strife with matter, binding and vanquishing its\ncontrary nature, and sees form gracefully shining forth in other\nforms, it collects together the scattered whole, and introduces it to\nitself, and to the indivisible form within; and renders it consonant,\ncongruous and friendly to its own intimate form. Thus, to the good\nman, virtue shining forth in youth is lovely because consonant to the\ntrue virtue which lies deep in the soul. But the simple beauty of\ncolour arises, when light, which is something incorporeal, and\nreason and form entering the obscure involutions of matter,\nirradiates and forms its dark and formless nature. It is on this\naccount that fire surpasses other bodies in beauty, because,\ncompared with the other elements, it obtains the order of form; for it\nis more eminent than the rest, and is the most subtle of all, bordering,\nas it were, on an incorporeal nature. And too, that though\nimpervious itself it is intimately received by others, for it imparts\nheat, but admits no cold. Hence it is the first nature which is\nornamented with colour, and is the source of it to others; and on this\naccount it beams forth exalted like some immaterial form. But when\nit cannot vanquish its subject, as participating but a slender light, it\nis no longer beautiful, because it does not receive the whole form of\ncolour. Again, the music of the voice rouses the harmony latent in\nthe soul, and opens her eye to the perception of beauty, existing in\nmany the same. But it is the property of the harmony perceived by\nsense, to be measured by numbers, yet not in every proportion of\nnumber or voice; but in that alone which is obedient to the\nproduction, and conquest of its species. And this much for the\nbeauties of sense, which, like images and shadows flowing into\nmatter, adorn with spectacles of beauty its formless being, and strike\nthe respective senses with wonder and delight.\n\nBut it is now time, leaving every object of sense far behind, to\ncontemplate, by a certain ascent, a beauty of a much higher order; a\nbeauty not visible to the corporeal eye, but alone manifest to the\nbrighter eye of the soul, independent of all corporeal aid. However,\nsince, without some previous perception of beauty it is impossible to\nexpress by words the beauties of sense, but we must remain in the\nstate of the blind, so neither can we ever speak of the beauty of\noffices and sciences, and whatever is allied to these, if deprived of\ntheir intimate possession. Thus we shall never be able to tell of\nvirtue's brightness, unless by looking inward we perceive the fair\ncountenance of justice and temperance, and are convinced that\nneither the evening nor morning star are half so beautiful and bright.\nBut it is requisite to perceive objects of this kind by that eye by\nwhich the soul beholds such real beauties. Besides it is necessary\nthat whoever perceives this species of beauty, should be seized with\nmuch greater delight, and more vehement admiration, than any\ncorporeal beauty can excite; as now embracing beauty real and\nsubstantial. Such affections, I say, ought to be excited about true\nbeauty, as admiration and sweet astonishment; desire also and love\nand a pleasant trepidation. For all souls, as I may say, are affected in\nthis manner about invisible objects, but those the most who have the\nstrongest propensity to their love; as it likewise happens about\ncorporeal beauty; for all equally perceive beautiful corporeal forms,\nyet all are not equally excited, but lovers in the greatest degree.\n\nBut it may be allowable to interrogate those, who rise above sense,\nconcerning the effects of love in this manner; of such we enquire,\nwhat do you suffer respecting fair studies, and beautiful manners,\nvirtuous works, affections, and habits, and the beauty of souls? What\ndo you experience on perceiving yourselves lovely within? After\nwhat manner are you roused as it were to a Bacchalian fury; striving\nto converse with yourselves, and collecting yourselves separate from\nthe impediments of body? For thus are true lovers enraptured. But\nwhat is the cause of these wonderful effects. It is neither figure, nor\ncolour, nor magnitude; but soul herself, fair through temperance,\nand not with the false gloss of colour, and bright with the splendours\nof virtue herself. And this you experience as often as you turn your\neye inwards; or contemplate the amplitude of another soul; the just\nmanners, the pure temperance; fortitude venerable by her noble\ncountenance; and modesty and honesty walking with an intrepid step,\nand a tranquil and steady aspect; and what crowns the beauty of\nthem all, constantly receiving the irradiations of a divine intellect.\n\nIn what respect then, shall we call these beautiful? For they are such\nas they appear, nor did ever anyone behold them, and not pronounce\nthem realities. But as yet reason desires to know how they cause the\nloveliness of the soul; and what that grace is in every virtue which\nbeams forth to view like light? Are you then willing we should\nassume the contrary part, and consider what in the soul appears\ndeformed? for perhaps it will facilitate our search, if we can thus\nfind what is base in the soul, and from whence it derives its original.\n\nLet us suppose a soul deformed, to be one intemperate and unjust,\nfilled with a multitude of desires, a prey to foolish hopes and vexed\nwith idle fears; through its diminutive and avaricious nature the\nsubject of envy; employed solely in thought of what is immoral and\nlow, bound in the fetters of impure delights, living the life, whatever\nit may be, peculiar to the passion of body; and so totally merged in\nsensuality as to esteem the base pleasant, and the deformed beautiful\nand fair. But may we not say, that this baseness approaches the soul\nas an adventitious evil, under the pretext of adventitious beauty;\nwhich, with great detriment, renders it impure, and pollutes it with\nmuch depravity; so that it neither possesses true life, nor true sense,\nbut is endued with a slender life through its mixture of evil, and this\nworn out by the continual depredations of death; no longer\nperceiving the objects of mental vision, nor permitted any more to\ndwell with itself, because ever hurried away to things obscure,\nexternal and low? Hence, becoming impure, and being on all sides\nsnatched in the unceasing whirl of sensible forms, it is covered with\ncorporeal stains, and wholly given to matter, contracts deeply its\nnature, loses all its original splendour, and almost changes its own\nspecies into that of another; just as the pristine beauty of the most\nlovely form would be destroyed by its total immersion in mire and\nclay. But the deformity of the first arises from inward filth, of its\nown contracting; of the second, from the accession of some foreign\nnature. If such a one then desires to recover his former beauty, it is\nnecessary to cleanse the infected parts, and thus by a thorough\npurgation to resume his original form. Hence, then if we assert that\nthe soul, by her mixture, confusion and commerce with body and\nmatter, becomes thus base, our assertion will, I think, be right. For\nthe baseness of the soul consists in not being pure and sincere. And\nas the gold is deformed by the adherence of earthly clods, which are\nno sooner removed than on a sudden the gold shines forth with its\nnative purity; and then becomes beautiful when separated from\nnatures foreign from its own, and when it is content with its own\npurity for the possession of beauty; so the soul, when separated from\nthe sordid desires engendered by its too great immersion in body,\nand liberated from the dominion of every perturbation, can thus and\nthus only, blot out the base stains imbibed from its union with body;\nand thus becoming alone, will doubtless expel all the turpitude\ncontracted from a nature so opposite to its own.\n\nIndeed, as the ancient oracle declares, temperance and fortitude,\nprudence and every virtue, are certain purgatives of the soul; and\nhence the sacred mysteries prophesy obscurely, yet with truth, that\nthe soul not purified lies in Tartarus, immersed in filth. Since the\nimpure is, from his depravity, the friend of filth, as swine, from their\nsordid body, delight in mire alone.\n\nFor what else is true temperance than not to indulge in corporeal\ndelights, but to fly from their connection, as things which are neither\npure, nor the offspring of purity? And true fortitude is not to fear\ndeath; for death is nothing more than a certain separation of soul\nfrom body, and this he will not fear, who desires to be alone. Again,\nmagnanimity is the contempt of every mortal concern; it is the wing\nby which we fly into the regions of intellect. And lastly, prudence is\nno other than intelligence, declining subordinate objects; and\ndirecting the eye of the soul to that which is immortal and divine.\nThe soul, thus defined, becomes form and reason, is altogether\nincorporeal and intellectual, and wholly participates of that divine\nnature, which is the fountain of loveliness, and of whatever is allied\nto the beautiful and fair. Hence the soul reduced to intellect becomes\nastonishingly beautiful; for as the lambent flame which appears\ndetached from the burning wood, enlightens its dark and smoky\nparts, so intellect irradiates and adorns the inferior powers of the\nsoul, which, without its aid, would be buried in the gloom of\nformless matter. But intellect, and whatever emanates from intellect,\nis not the foreign, but the proper ornament of the soul, for the being\nof the soul, when absorbed in intellect, is then alone real and true. It\nis, therefore, rightly said, that the beauty and good of the soul\nconsists in her similitude to the Deity_;_ for from hence flows all\nher beauty, and her allotment of a better being. But the beautiful\nitself is that which is called beings; and turpitude is of a different\nnature and participates more of non-entity than being.\n\nBut, perhaps, the good and the beautiful are the same, and must be\ninvestigated by one and the same process; and in like manner the\nbase and the evil. And in the first rank we must place the beautiful,\nand consider it as the same with the good; from which immediately\nemanates intellect as beautiful. Next to this, we must consider the\nsoul receiving its beauty from intellect, and every inferior beauty\nderiving its origin from the forming power of the soul, whether\nconversant in fair actions and offices, or sciences and arts. Lastly,\nbodies themselves participate of beauty from the soul, which, as\nsomething divine, and a portion of the beautiful itself, renders\nwhatever it supervenes and subdues, beautiful as far as its natural\ncapacity will admit.\n\nLet us, therefore, re-ascend to the good itself, which every soul\ndesires; and in which it can alone find perfect repose. For if anyone\nshall become acquainted with this source of beauty he will then\nknow what I say, and after what manner he is beautiful. Indeed,\nwhatever is desirable is a kind of good, since to this desire tends.\nBut they alone pursue true good, who rise to intelligible beauty, and\nso far only tend to good itself; as far as they lay aside the deformed\nvestments of matter, with which they become connected in their\ndescent. Just as those who penetrate into the holy retreats of sacred\nmysteries, are first purified and then divest themselves of their\ngarments, until someone by such a process, having dismissed\neverything foreign from the God, by himself alone, beholds the\nsolitary principle of the universe, sincere, simple and pure, from\nwhich all things depend, and to whose transcendent perfections the\neyes of all intelligent natures are directed, as the proper cause of\nbeing, life and intelligence. With what ardent love, with what strong\ndesire will he who enjoys this transporting vision be inflamed while\nvehemently affecting to become one with this supreme beauty! For\nthis it is ordained, that he who does not yet perceive him, yet desires\nhim as good, but he who enjoys the vision is enraptured with his\nbeauty, and is equally filled with admiration and delight. Hence,\nsuch a one is agitated with a salutary astonishment; is affected with\nthe highest and truest love; derides vehement affections and inferior\nloves, and despises the beauty which he once approved. Such, too, is\nthe condition of those who, on perceiving the forms of gods or\ndaemons, no longer esteem the fairest of corporeal forms. What,\nthen, must be the condition of that being, who beholds the beautiful\nitself?\n\nIn itself perfectly pure[7], not confined by any corporeal bond,\nneither existing in the heavens, nor in the earth, nor to be imaged by\nthe most lovely form imagination can conceive; since these are all\nadventitious and mixed, and mere secondary beauties, proceeding\nfrom the beautiful itself. If, then, anyone should ever behold that\nwhich is the source of munificence to others, remaining in itself,\nwhile it communicates to all, and receiving nothing, because\npossessing an inexhaustible fulness; and should so abide in the\nintuition, as to become similar to his nature, what more of beauty\ncan such a one desire? For such beauty, since it is supreme in\ndignity and excellence, cannot fail of rendering its votaries lovely\nand fair. Add too, that since the object of contest to souls is the\nhighest beauty, we should strive for its acquisition with unabated\nardour, lest we should be deserted of that blissful contemplation,\nwhich, whoever pursues in the right way, becomes blessed from the\nhappy vision; and which he who does not obtain is unavoidably\nunhappy. For the miserable man is not he who neglects to pursue\nfair colours, and beautiful corporeal forms; who is deprived of\npower, and falls from dominion and empire but he alone who is\ndestitute of this divine possession, for which the ample dominion of\nthe earth and sea and the still more extended empire of the heavens,\nmust be relinquished and forgot, if, despising and leaving these far\nbehind, we ever intend to arrive at substantial felicity, by beholding\nthe beautiful itself.\n\nWhat measures, then, shall we adopt? What machine employ, or\nwhat reason consult by means of which we may contemplate this\nineffable beauty; a beauty abiding in the most divine sanctuary\nwithout ever proceeding from its sacred retreats lest it should be\nbeheld by the profane and vulgar eye? We must enter deep into\nourselves, and, leaving behind the objects of corporeal sight, no\nlonger look back after any of the accustomed spectacles of sense.\nFor, it is necessary that whoever beholds this beauty, should\nwithdraw his view from the fairest corporeal forms; and, convinced\nthat these are nothing more than images, vestiges and shadows of\nbeauty, should eagerly soar to the fair original from which they are\nderived. For he who rushes to these lower beauties, as if grasping\nrealities, when they are only like beautiful images appearing in\nwater, will, doubtless, like him in the fable, by stretching after the\nshadow, sink into the lake and disappear. For, by thus embracing\nand adhering to corporeal forms, he is precipitated, not so much in\nhis body as in his soul, into profound and horrid darkness; and thus\nblind, like those in the infernal regions, converses only with\nphantoms, deprived of the perception of what is real and true. It is\nhere, then, we may more truly exclaim, \"Let us depart from hence,\nand fly to our father's delightful land\".[8] But, by what leading stars\nshall we direct our flight, and by what means avoid the magic power\nof Circe, and the detaining charms of Calypso?[9] For thus the fable\nof Ulysses obscurely signifies, which feigns him abiding an\nunwilling exile, though pleasant spectacles were continually\npresented to his sight; and everything was promised to invite his stay\nwhich can delight the senses, and captivate the heart. But our true\ncountry, like that of Ulysses, is from whence we came, and where\nour father lives. But where is the ship to be found by which we can\naccomplish our flight? For our feet are unequal to the task since they\nonly take us from one part of the earth to another. May we not each\nof us say,\n\n     \"What ships have I, what sailors to convey,\n     What oars to cut the long laborious way\".[10]\n\nBut it is in vain that we prepare horses to draw our ships to transport\nus to our native land. On the contrary, neglecting all these, as\nunequal to the task, and excluding them entirely from our view,\nhaving now closed the corporeal eye,[11] we must stir up and\nassume a purer eye within, which all men possess, but which is\nalone used by a few. What is it, then, this inward eye beholds?\nIndeed, suddenly raised to intellectual vision, it cannot perceive an\nobject exceeding bright. The soul must therefore be first accustomed\nto contemplate fair studies and then beautiful works, not such as\narise from the operations of art, but such as are the offspring of\nworthy men; and next to this it is necessary to view the soul, which\nis the parent of this lovely race. But you will ask, after what manner\nis this beauty of a worthy soul to be perceived? It is thus. Recall\nyour thoughts inward, and if while contemplating yourself, you do\nnot perceive yourself beautiful, imitate the statuary; who when he\ndesires a beautiful statue cuts away what is superfluous, smooths\nand polishes what is rough, and never desists until he has given it all\nthe beauty his art is able to effect. In this manner must you proceed,\nby lopping what is luxuriant, directing what is oblique, and, by\npurgation, illustrating what is obscure, and thus continue to polish\nand beautify your statue until the divine splendour of Virtue shines\nupon you, and Temperance seated in pure and holy majesty rises to\nyour view. If you become thus purified residing in yourself, and\nhaving nothing any longer to impede this unity of mind, and no\nfarther mixture to be found within, but perceiving your whole self to\nbe a true light, and light alone; a light which though immense is not\nmeasured by any magnitude, nor limited by any circumscribing\nfigure, but is everywhere immeasurable, as being greater than every\nmeasure, and more excellent than every quantity; if, perceiving\nyourself thus improved, and trusting solely to yourself, as no longer\nrequiring a guide, fix now steadfastly your mental view, for with the\nintellectual eye alone can such immense beauty be perceived. But if\nyour eye is yet infected with any sordid concern, and not thoroughly\nrefined, while it is on the stretch to behold this most shining\nspectacle, it will be immediately darkened and incapable of intuition,\nthough someone should declare the spectacle present, which it might\nbe otherwise able to discern. For, it is here necessary that the\nperceiver and the thing perceived should be similar to each other\nbefore true vision can exist. Thus the sensitive eye can never be able\nto survey, the orb of the sun, unless strongly endued with solar fire,\nand participating largely off the vivid ray. Everyone therefore must\nbecome divine, and of godlike beauty, before he can gaze upon a\ngod and the beautiful itself. Thus proceeding in the right way of\nbeauty he will first ascend into the region of intellect, contemplating\nevery fair species, the beauty of which he will perceive to be no\nother than ideas themselves; for all things are beautiful by the\nsupervening irradiations of these, because they are the offspring and\nessence of intellect. But that which is superior to these is no other\nthan the fountain of good, everywhere widely diffusing around the\nstreams of beauty, and hence in discourse called the beautiful itself\nbecause beauty is its immediate offspring. But if you accurately\ndistinguish the intelligible objects you will call the beautiful the\nreceptacle of ideas; but the good itself, which is superior, the\nfountain and principle of the beautiful; or, you may place the first\nbeautiful and the good in the same principle, independent of the\nbeauty which there subsists.[12]\n\n\n\nNOTES\n\n1  Pope's Homer's _Odyssey,_ Book xiii., ver. 37.\n\n2  _Odyssey,_ Book xiii., ver. 223.\n\n3  _Odyssey,_ Book vii., ver. 303.\n\n4  It is necessary to inform the Platonical reader, that the Beautiful,\nin the present discourse, is considered according to its most general\nacceptation, as the same with the Good: though, according to a more\naccurate distinction, as Plotinus himself informs us, the Good is\nconsidered as the fountain and principle of the Beautiful. I think it\nlikewise proper to observe, that as I have endeavoured, by my\nparaphrase, to render as much as possible the obscure parts evident,\nand to expand those sentences which are so very much contracted in\nthe original, I shall be sparing of notes; for my design is not to\naccommodate the sublimest truths to the meanest understandings (as\nthis would be a contemptible and useless prostitution), but to render\nthem perspicuous to truly liberal and philosophic minds. My reasons\nfor adopting this mode of paraphrase, may be seen in the preface to\nmy translation of _Orpheus's Hymns._\n\n5  \"Enters deep into its essence,\" etc. The Platonic Philosophy insists\nmuch on the necessity of retiring into ourselves in order to the\ndiscovery of truth; and on this account Socrates, in the first\n_Alcibiades,_ says that the soul entering into herself will\ncontemplate whatever exists and the divinity himself. Upon which\nProclus thus comments, with his usual elegance and depth (in\n_Theol. Plat,_ p. 7): \"For the soul,\" says he, \"contracting herself\nwholly into a union with herself, and into the centre of universal life,\nand removing the multitude and variety of all-various powers,\nascends into the highest place of speculation, from whence she will\nsurvey the nature of beings. For if she looks back upon things\nposterior to her essence, she will perceive nothing but the shadows\nand resemblances of beings; but if she returns into herself she will\nevolve her own essence, and the reasons she contains. And at first\nindeed she will, as it were, only behold herself; but when by her\nknowledge she penetrates more profoundly in her investigations she\nwill find intellect seated in her essence and the universal orders of\nbeings; but when she advances into the more interior recesses of\nherself, and as it were into the sanctuary of the soul, she will be\nenabled to contemplate, with her eyes closed to corporeal vision, the\ngenus of the gods and the unities of beings. For all things reside in\nus, after a manner correspondent to the nature of the soul; and on\nthis account we are naturally enabled to know all things, by exciting\nour inherent powers and images of whatever exists.\"\n\n6  \"And such is matter,\" etc. There is nothing affords more\nwonderful speculation than matter, which ranks as the last among\nthe universality of things, and has the same relation to being as\nshade to substance. For, as in an ascending series of causes it is\nnecessary to arrive at something, which is the first cause of all, and\nto which no perfection is wanting; so in a descending series of\nsubjects, it is equally necessary we should stop at some general\nsubject, the lowest in the order of things, and to which every\nperfection of being is denied. But let us hear the profound and\nadmirable description which Plotinus gives us of matter (lib. vi.,\nEnnead 3), and of which the following is a paraphrase: \"Since\nmatter,\" says he, \"is neither soul, nor intellect, nor life, nor form, nor\nreason, nor bound, but a certain indefiniteness; nor yet capacity, for\nwhat can it produce? Since it is foreign from all these, it cannot\nmerit the appellation of being, but is deservedly called non-entity.\nNor yet is it non-entity in the manner as motion or station; but it is\ntrue non-entity, the mere shadow and imagination of bulk and the\ndesire of subsistence; abiding without station, of itself invisible, and\navoiding the desire of him who wishes to perceive its nature. Hence,\nwhen no one perceives it, it is then in a manner present, but cannot\nbe viewed by him who strives intently to behold it. Again, in itself\ncontraries always appear, the small and the great, the less and the\nmore, deficience and excess. So that it is a phantom, neither abiding\nnor yet able to fly away; capable of no one denomination and\npossessing no power from intellect, but constituted in the defect and\nshade, as it were, of all real being. Hence, too, in each of its\nvanishing appellations it eludes our search; for if we think of it as\nsomething great, it is in the meantime small; if as something more, it\nbecomes less; and the apparent being which we meet with in its\nimage is non-being, and as it were a flying mockery. So that the\nforms which appear in matter are merely ludicrous, shadows falling\nupon shadow, as in a mirror, where the position of a thing is\ndifferent from its real situation; and which, though apparently full of\nforms, possesses nothing real and true--but imitations of being and\nsemblances flowing about a formless semblance. They appear,\nindeed, to affect something in the subject matter, but in reality\nproduce nothing; from their debile and flowing nature being endued\nwith no solidity and no rebounding power. And since matter,\nlikewise, has no solidity they penetrate it without division, like\nimages in water, or as if anyone should fill a vacuum with forms.\"\n\n7  \"In itself perfectly pure.\" This is analogous to the description of\nthe beautiful in the latter part of Diotima's Speech in the _Banquet_;\na speech which is surely unequalled, both for elegance of\ncomposition and sublimity of sentiment. Indeed, all the disciples of\nPlato are remarkable for nothing so much as their profound and\nexalted conceptions of the Deity; and he who can read the works of\nPlotinus and Proclus in particular, and afterwards pity the weakness\nand erroneousness of their opinions on this subject, may be fairly\npresumed to be himself equally an object of pity and contempt.\n\n8  \"Let us depart,\" etc., _vide_ Hom., _Iliad,_ lib. ii., 140, et lib. ix.,\n27.\n\n9  Porphyry informs us in his excellent treatise, _De Antro Nymph,_\nthat it was the opinion of Numenius, the Pythagorean (to which he\nalso assents), that the person of Ulysses in the _Odyssey,_\nrepresents to us a man, who passes in a regular manner, over the\ndark and stormy sea of generation; and thus, at length, arrives at that\nregion where tempests and seas are unknown, and finds a nation\nwho\n\n     \"Ne'er knew salt, or heard the billows roar.\"\n\nIndeed, he who is conscious of the delusions of the present life and\nthe enchantments of this material house, in which his soul is\ndetained like Ulysses in the irriguous cavern of Calypso, will like\nhim continually bewail his captivity, and inly pine for a return to his\nnative country. Of such a one it may be said as of Ulysses (in the\nexcellent and pathetic translation of Mr Pope):\n\n     \"But sad Ulysses by himself apart\n     Pour'd the big sorrows of his swelling heart,\n     All on the lonely shore he sate to weep\n     And roll'd his eyes around the restless deep\n     Tow'rd the lov'd coast he roll'd his eyes in vain\n     Till, dimmed with rising grief, they stream'd again.\"\n          _Odyssey,_ book v., 103.\n\nSuch a one too, like Ulysses, will not always wish in vain for a\npassage over the dark ocean of a corporeal life, but by the assistance\nof Mercury, who may be considered as the emblem of reason, he\nwill at length be enabled to quit the magic embraces of Calypso, the\nGoddess of Imagination, and to return again into the arms of\nPenelope, or Philosophy, the long lost and proper object of his love.\n\n10  See Pope's Homer's _Odyssey,_ book v., 182.\n\n11  \"We must stir up and assume a purer eye within.\" This inward\neye is no other than intellect, which contains in its most inward\nrecesses a certain ray of light, participated from the sun of Beauty\nand Good, by which the soul is enabled to behold and become united\nwith her divinely solitary original. This divine ray, or, as Proclus\ncalls it, mark or impression, is thus beautifully described by that\nphilosopher _(Theol. Plat,_ p. 105): \"The Author of the Universe,\"\nsays he, \"has planted in all beings impressions of his own perfect\nexcellence, and through these he has placed all beings about himself,\nand is present with them in an ineffable manner, exempt from the\nuniversality of things. Hence, every being entering into the ineffable\nsanctuary of its own nature finds there a symbol of the Father of all.\nAnd by this mystical impression which corresponds to his nature\nthey become united with their original, divesting themselves of their\nown essence and hastening to become his impression alone; and,\nthrough a desire of his unknown nature and of the fountain of good,\nto participate in him alone. And when they have ascended as far as\nto this cause they enjoy perfect tranquillity and are conversant in the\nperception of his divine progeny and of the love which all things\nnaturally possess, and goodness, unknown, ineffable, without\nparticipation and transcendently full.\"\n\n12  But before I take my leave of Plotinus, I cannot refrain from\naddressing a few words to the Platonical part of my readers. If such\nthen is the wisdom contained in the works of this philosopher, as we\nmay conclude from the present specimen, is it fit so divine a treasure\nshould be concealed in shameful oblivion? With respect to true\nphilosophy you must be sensible that all modern sects are in a state\nof barbarous ignorance; for Materialism and its attendant Sensuality\nhave darkened the eyes of the _many_ with the mists of error, and\nare continually strengthening their corporeal tie. And can anything\nmore effectually dissipate this increasing gloom than discourses\ncomposed by so sublime a genius, pregnant with the most profound\nconceptions, and everywhere full of intellectual light? Can anything\nso thoroughly destroy the phantom of false enthusiasm as\nestablishing the real object of the true? Let us then boldly enlist\nourselves under the banners of Plotinus, and, by his assistance,\nvigorously repel the encroachments of error, plunge her dominions\ninto the abyss of forgetfulness, and disperse the darkness of her\nbaneful night. For indeed there never was a period which required so\nmuch philosophic exertion, or such vehement contention from the\nlovers of Truth. On all sides nothing of philosophy remains but the\nname, and this is become the subject of the vilest prostitution; since\nit is not only engrossed by the naturalist, chemist, and anatomist, but\nis usurped by the mechanic in every trifling invention, and made\nsubservient to the lucre of traffic and merchandise. There cannot\nsurely be a greater proof of the degeneracy of the times than so\nunparalleled a degradation and so barbarous a perversion of terms.\nFor the word philosophy, which implies the love of wisdom, is now\nbecome the ornament of folly. In the times of its inventor, and for\nmany succeeding ages, it was expressive of modesty and worth; in\nour days it is the badge of impudence and vain pretensions. It was\nformerly the symbol of the profound contemplative genius, it is now\nthe mark of the superficial and unthinking practitioner. It was once\nreverenced by kings and clothed in the robes of nobility; it is now\n(according to its true acceptation) abandoned and despised and\nridiculed by the vilest plebeian. Permit me, then, my friends, to\naddress you in the words of Achilles to Hector:\n\n     \"Rouse, then, your forces this important hour,\n     Collect your strength and call forth all your pow'r.\"\n\nSince, to adopt the animated language of Neptune to the Greeks,\n\n          \" . . . On dastards, dead to fame,\n     I waste no anger, for they feel no shame,\n     But you, the pride, the flower of all our host,\n     My heart weeps blood, to see your glory lost.\"\n\nNor deem the exhortation impertinent, and the danger groundless:\n\n     \"For lo! the fated time, th' appointed shore,\n     Hark, the gates burst, the brazen barriers roar.\"\n\nImpetuous ignorance is thundering at the bulwarks of philosophy\nand her sacred retreats are in danger of being demolished, through\nour feeble resistance. Rise then, my friends, and the victory will be\nours. The foe is indeed numerous, but at the same time feeble; and\nthe weapons of truth in the hands of vigorous union, descend with\nirresistible force, and are fatal wherever they fall.\n\n---\n\n[Transcriber's notes:  I have made minor changes to the punctuation\nand the format of the notes. I have also made the following spelling\nchanges:\n\n     \"powerfully attacts\" to \"powerfully attracts\"\n\n     \"converses only with plantoms\" to \"converses only with phantoms\"]","title":"An Essay on the Beautiful, from the Greek of Plotinus","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":8971}