“According to this oracle then (says Porphyry) Plotinus was worthy,

and mild, gentle and endearing, and such as we found him to be by

invariable experience. And again, it asserts that he was vigilant,

endued with a purified soul, and always elevated to divinity, which

he ardently loved. Likewise that he endeavoured by exerting all his

powers to emerge from the bitter waters of this sanguine life. Hence

when by the assistance of this blessed light, he had often raised

himself by intellectual conceptions, to that first god who is superior

to intellect, and had ascended according to all the gradations in the

banquet of Plato to an union with his ineffable nature, this supreme

principle suddenly appeared to him, neither possessing any form, nor

any idea, but established above intellect, and every intelligible

essence. And to this supreme god I Porphyry once approached, and was

united with his nature, when I was sixty-eight years of age. The end of

life therefore appeared to Plotinus: for the end and scope of existence

to him, was a conjunction with that deity who is every where present.

But he four times obtained this end, while I resided with him, not in

capacity, but by an ineffable energy. Besides the oracle adds, that the

gods often surrounding Plotinus with divine splendors, directed him in

the right path, while they benignantly extended to his eyes abundant

rays of celestial light: so that he may be said to have composed his

books from the contemplation, and intuition of divinity. But from

internal and external vigilance, he is said by the oracle, to have

seen many and most beautiful spectacles, which no other philosopher

has easily beheld. For human contemplation may indeed have various

degrees of excellence, but when compared with divine knowledge, cannot

fathom a depth, such as is penetrated by the gods. Hitherto the oracle

shews, what were the energies of Plotinus, and what he obtained, while

surrounded with body. But after his solution from body, it declares

that he arrived at the blessed society, where friendship, sweet desire,

joy, and love united with the deity, perpetually reign. Besides this,

how the sons of the divinity, Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Æacus, are

appointed the judges of souls; and that Plotinus departed to these,

not for the purpose of receiving their decisions of his conduct, but

to enjoy their conversation, with whom also other gods of the most

exalted order converse. Where Plato and Pythagoras reside, and other

sublime souls, who compose the choir of immortal love; and where the

most blessed dæmons have fixed their abode. And lastly, that the life

of the inhabitants, in these celestial regions is ever flourishing and

full of joy, and perseveres in perpetuity of bliss, from the benignant

communications of divinity.” And thus much for the life of Plotinus,

who was a philosopher unequalled for the strength and profundity of

his intellect, and the purity and elevation of his life. He was a

being, wise without the usual mixture of human darkness, and great

without the general combination of human weakness and imperfection. He

seems to have left _the orb of light_, solely for the benefit of

mankind; that he might teach them how to repair the ruin contracted by

their exile from good, and how to return to their true country, and

their proper kindred and allies. I do not mean that he descended into

mortality for the purpose of enlightening the vulgar part of mankind:

for this would have been a vain and ridiculous attempt. The splendour

of truth cannot be apprehended by eyes totally fixed in the dark night

of oblivion; but previous to this, punishment must be inflicted, and

purgation employed; the labours of Hercules must be accomplished,

and the sufferings of Ulysses endured. But he came as a guide to the

liberal few, who are struggling to gain the lost region of light, but

know not how to break the fetters by which they are detained; and

who are impatient to leave the obscure cavern of sense, where all is

delusion and shadow, and to ascend to the realms of intellect, where

all is substance and reality.

Let us now consider what were the principal tenets of the Platonic

theology, which this extraordinary man restored, and illustrated in

his writings. And, in the first place, he every where profoundly and

copiously proves the super-essential nature of _the one_, or the

supreme principle of things, which is one of the principal doctrines

in the Parmenides, and is more plainly asserted in the Republic[61].

However prior to Plotinus[62], the interpreters of Plato ascended

no higher than to intellect and being, and by this means placed a

compound, and not a perfectly simple nature at the summit of the

universe. This doctrine, which is called by Cudworth, _high-flown_,

_phantastical_, and _unsafe_, will, I am sure, be deemed no better

than _jargon_ and _reverie_, by modern philosophers, who, so far from

being able to conceive a cause superior to being, scarcely possess a

thought which is not the progeny of body and sense. It is, however,

sufficient for our present purpose to prove that this is the opinion of

Plato, and to shew how it is defended by Plotinus. In the sixth book of

the Republic then, Plato most beautifully evinces the super-essential

nature of the first cause, whom he calls the good, by his analogy to

the sun, as follows. “Have you not observed, with respect to the author

of the senses, in how perfect a manner he has formed the power of

sight, and of being visible? I have not entirely perceived it, replied

he. But consider it in this manner. Do hearing and sound require any

other species, in order that the one may hear, and the other be heard,

which third nature when absent, the one shall not hear, nor the other

be heard? There is nothing, said he. It appears to me, indeed, that

many others (that I may not say none), require no such third species.

Or are you able to find any such power? By no means. Have you not

perceived that sight, and the object of sight, require such a nature?

How? When sight is present with the eyes, and they are directed to

vision, when colour also is present, unless a third species is present,

naturally formed for the purpose, the sight will be without vision,

and the colours will be invisible. But what do you call this? What you

call light. You speak the truth. Indeed, the sense of seeing, and the

power of being seen, are joined together by a bond the most honourable

of all other conjunctions, and by no trifling form, if light be not

dishonourable. Whom then of the celestial gods can you assign as the

cause of this, that light causes our sight to see in the best manner,

and that objects are perceived by the eyes? The same as you and others

assign; for you interrogate concerning the sun. But the sight is thus

affected with reference to this god. How? Neither is the sight the sun;

nor is the eye in which vision resides the sun. It is not. But of all

the organs of sense, the eye participates most of the sun. Greatly so.

Does it not preserve the power which it possesses, as infused from the

sun? Entirely. Besides, the sun is not sight, but its cause, and is on

this account beheld by sight. It is plainly so. This is what I called

the son of the good, which the good generated analogous to itself: that

as _this_ in the intelligible place, is to intellect and the objects

of intelligence, so is _that_ in the visible place to sight. How is

this? Explain yourself more largely. You know that the eyes as often

as they are not turned towards objects whose colours the splendour of

day irradiates and discloses, but to such as are faintly illuminated

by nocturnal rays, grow dim by the vision, and appear almost blind,

as if perfect sight was not resident in their nature. So it happens.

But as often as they are turned to objects which the sun illustrates,

they perspicuously perceive, and in the very same eyes, sight appears

to be contained. It is so. Thus think also concerning the soul. For

when it adheres to that in which truth, and being itself shines forth

to view, then it understands and knows this, and appears to possess

intelligence. But when it is carried to that which is mingled with

darkness, which is generated and destroyed, the sharpness of its sight

is blunted, it is conversant with various opinions, and it seems to

be destitute of intellect. So it appears. Hence, that which affords

truth to objects of intelligence, and extends the power of intellection

to him who understands, you may call the idea of the good, the cause

of science, and truth perceived by intellect. But since these two

are so beautiful, I mean knowledge and truth, if you esteem the good

itself, as something different from these, and far more beautiful,

you will think in a proper manner. And, as it is proper to believe,

that light and sight possess a certain form of the sun, but are by no

means the sun itself: so here it is proper to judge, that knowledge and

truth possess a certain form of the good itself, but are by no means

the good; for its majesty is far more venerable and august.” And a

little after he adds: “You may say therefore, that the good, not only

affords to objects of knowledge the power of being known, but likewise

distributes their being and essence, while in the mean time _the good

itself is not essence, but above essence_, excelling it both in dignity

and power.”

It is plain, therefore, from the words of Plato himself, that he

considered the supreme principle of things superior to being; and

consequently this doctrine was not devised by the latter Platonists,

contrary to the opinion of their divine master. But this is likewise

evident from the testimony of Speusippus, the immediate successor of

Plato, who, as we are informed by Proclus[63] confirmed this doctrine

from the most ancient authority, and asserted, “that the ancients

considered _the one_, as better than being, and that the principle of

being was free from all proportion to the subsequent order of things,

as the good itself is separated from every condition of any particular

good.” To this most respectable evidence we may also add, that of the

philosopher Moderatus, who, as we are informed by Simplicius[64],

declares, “that, according to the Pythagoreans (from whom Plato, it

must be observed, received the greater part of his philosophy), the

first one is above all essence.”

This sublime theory was supported by Plotinus, with all that truly

philosophic accuracy and depth, for which his writings are every where

so remarkable. Indeed, it appears to have been his favourite topic;

for he has employed considerable parts of many of his books in its

illustration and defence. Nor can we wonder at his partiality for this

exalted speculation, if we consider that a union with this ineffable

nature, was the great aim of all his desires, and the only end of all

his studies and pursuits. This was the divinely solitary light to

which his intellectual eye was ever directed, and which so abundantly

illumined the most secret recesses of his soul. Here he discovered the

true fountain of good, and drank deep of its perennial streams. And

lastly, here he derived those inestimable stores of knowledge, which

he so fortunately transmitted to future generations. That the English

reader, therefore, may have a specimen of his inimitable writings on

this abstruse subject, and may see some of the deepest mysteries of

the Greek theology disclosed, I shall present him with a paraphrased

translation of two books of Plotinus: the first of which is inscribed,

_That Intelligibles are not external to Intellect, and concerning

the Good_, and the other, _Concerning intelligible Beauty_. I have

particularly chosen these, not only because they admirably unfold the

depths of the Platonic philosophy and theology; but because the first

relates to the vision of the _supreme_, explaining the wonderful manner

in which it is accomplished; and the second describes the method of

becoming united with the intelligible world. The Platonic reader will

find in these books (if I have done justice to their divine author),

instances of sublimity beyond all comparison with any other writings;

and specimens of a profundity of thought unequalled by any other

philosopher. I am sensible that the great labour I have employed in the

translation, will be, most probably, lost on the present generation:

but though I write with no views nor desires of popular renown, yet I

flatter myself with the approbation of more equitable posterity. The

fifth book, therefore, of the fifth Ennead of Plotinus is as follows:

“Is it possible any one can think that true intellect, possessing

true being, can at any time be deceived, and believe in things

which have no real existence? Certainly no one. For how could it

be intellect, if it is ever liable to deception? It is requisite,

therefore, that it should always understand, and that nothing should

ever be concealed from it, like those natures that are subject to

oblivion. But it is likewise necessary that knowledge should reside

in its essence, not like one imagining or doubting, or deriving

information from another. Nor yet again, like knowledge collected from

demonstration. For though it is granted that some things are collected

by demonstration, it cannot likewise be denied that something is of

itself known to intellect, at the same time that reason dictates, that

all knowledge is essential to its nature. But it is now necessary to

enquire after what manner we must distinguish the essential knowledge

of intellect, and that which it obtains by investigation. Likewise

from whence the certainty is derived to intellect, of its essential

knowledge? From whence its faith is derived, that it is in such a

condition? Because about things offered to the senses, the belief of

which appears more certain, it is usual to doubt whether they possess

their apparent nature in the subject things, or in certain passions

only; where certainly the judgment of intellect, or, at least, of

thought, is required. For though it should, perhaps, be granted,

that the natures of sensible objects are contained in their subject

bodies, yet what is known by sense, is nothing more than an image of

the object; for sense cannot apprehend the thing itself, since it

abides external to its perception. But intellect when it understands

and apprehends intelligibles, if it knows these as something different

from itself, after what manner is it connected with them? For it may

happen that it shall not meet with them, and consequently that it

may not understand: or perhaps then at last when it meets with them

it will immediately understand, and thus it will not always possess

intellection. And if it should be said, that intelligibles are

conjoined with intellect, it remains to enquire what such a conjunction

means. Besides the intellections themselves will be certain figures:

and, if this is the case, they will be adventitious, and nothing

more than certain pulsations. But after what manner will intellect

be figured; and what will be the form of intelligibles? Lastly, from

this hypothesis intelligence will be like sense, a perception of

externals. After what manner then do these disagree among themselves?

Shall we say in this, that one of them comprehends lesser concerns?

Also, how can intellect know that it perceives something in reality?

Or how will it be able to judge that this is good, or beautiful, or

just? For every one of these will be different from intellect, nor

will it contain the principles of judging by which it believes, but

these also will be external to its essence; and in the same manner

truth. Again, intelligibles themselves, are either destitute of

sense, life and intellect, or they possess intellect. If they possess

intellect, they will equally contain both, and this will be the true

and first intellect. But of this also we enquire how it contains truth,

intelligible itself, and intellect. Whether subsisting in the same and

together, or in some other manner? But if intelligibles themselves are

destitute of intellect and life, we must enquire what they are. For

they are neither certain propositions, nor axioms, nor dictions. For

if this were the case they would affirm something of other things, but

would not be things themselves: as if they should say, that what is

just is beautiful, when at the same time justice itself is different

from the beautiful itself. But if they should consider as simple

essences, the just itself, and the beautiful itself, apart from each

other: in the first place, intelligible itself will not be a certain

one; but every intelligible will be separate from others. In which case

we must enquire where they are, and in what places they are separately

disposed: afterwards in what manner intellect every where running round

in a discursive procession, is able to find these: also how it abides:

and again, how it abides or perseveres in the same; and what form or

figure it is endued with. Unless, perhaps, intelligibles are situated

like certain images formed from gold, or from some other matter by

a statuary or painter. But if this be the case, intellect in its

perceptions will be the same as sense. Besides in what respect among

these, is _this_ intelligible, justice, but _that_, something else.

Lastly, this is the most powerful objection of all: viz. if any one

should entirely admit, that these are extrinsical, and that intellect

speculates them as having an external position, it necessarily follows

that intellect does not possess the truth of these, but is deceived in

the contemplation of each. For the object of its contemplation will

be truly external: it will therefore behold them deprived of their

intimate possession, and containing only their images in a knowledge of

this kind. Since, therefore, it does not possess truth itself, but only

contains certain images of truth, it will possess what is false, and

have nothing of truth. If then it knows that it contains only what is

false, it must undoubtedly confess itself to be destitute of truth: but

if it is ignorant of this, and thinks that it participates of truth,

when at the same time it is destitute of its possession, it is deceived

by a two-fold fallacy, and is very far distant from truth. For it is

on this account, as I think, that truth is not to be found in sensible

objects but opinion alone: because opinion is conversant in receiving,

from whence its name is derived. On this account it receives something

different from itself, since that also is different from which it

possesses what it receives. If then truth is not resident in intellect,

such an intellect cannot be truth, nor a true intellect, nor intellect

at all: nor indeed will truth be resident in any other place.

Hence it is not proper either to investigate intelligibles separate

from intellect, or to confess that the figures of things only are

contained in intellect, or to deprive it of truth, while we admit it

is ignorant of intelligibles, and that the objects of its intellection

have no existence in the order of things. But it is necessary to

attribute all things to true intellect, if it is requisite to

induce knowledge and truth; to preserve beings themselves; and that

knowledge by which the essence of every thing is known; and no longer

to acquiesce in the resemblances and images of things, as when we

alone understand the particular mode of existence, and not the real

essence of a thing; in this case neither possessing the object itself,

nor dwelling with it, nor conspiring into one with its nature. For

intellect indeed truly knows, nor is any thing concealed from its

essential intelligence, nor is it liable to oblivion, nor does it

wander by investigation, but it contains truth, and the seat of

things in its essence, and is ever vital and intelligent. All which

properties, indeed, ought to reside in the most blessed nature, or

where can any thing honourable and venerable be found?

Hence it neither requires demonstration, nor the faith of persuasion,

that intellect is thus essentially intelligent: for it is entirely

manifest to itself, and there is nothing more worthy of faith than

its own essence. So that it contains real truth, not consonant to any

other but to itself, nor does it pronounce and exist any thing besides

itself: and that which it is, it pronounces. Who then can confute it?

And from whence can he bring his confutation? For the argument which

is adduced must revolve into the same with the former. And although

it is employed as different, it is nevertheless referred to the thing

proposed by the first argumentator, and is with it entirely one and the

same. For nothing can be found more true than truth.

This one nature intellect therefore is all beings: it is truth: it

is a great deity: or rather it is not any particular god: but is

deservedly every deity. And such is the nature of this second divinity,

appearing to beholders, before they survey that superior God, who is

seated in sublimer majesty on the illustrious throne of intellect,

depending from his ineffable nature. For it is highly proper that he

should not subsist in an inanimate seat, nor again immediately occur

to us moving in the circular chariot of soul, but that an inestimable

beauty should wonderfully shine before his appearance, as before the

presence of a mighty king. For to such as advance to his intuition it

is ordained that lesser things should first occur and afterwards that

such as are greater should gradually present themselves to the view;

and that such as surround the king should be more royal, and the rest

in a degree proportionate to their distance from his ineffable glory.

But after all these, the mighty king himself, suddenly shines forth

to the view: while the rest venerate the king, in a suppliant manner;

such I mean as do not depart from thence till they have proceeded

to the last spectacle of all, like those who are satisfied with the

splendor of the attendants on majesty. Another king, therefore, reigns

in this intelligible world, and his attendants are different from his

nature. But this supernal king does not rule over foreign subjects,

but he possesses a just and natural government, and a true kingdom:

since he is himself the king of truth, and is naturally the lord of his

offspring the universe, and of the divine company of immortal gods.

Hence he is the king of a king, and of kings, and is called by a juster

name, the father of the gods. Whom indeed Jupiter in this respect

imitates, since he does not acquiesce in the contemplation of his

Father, but proceeds beyond this to his grand-sire, as to an energy in

the very subsistence (ὑπόϛασις) of his essence.

But let us now ascend to the one itself, which is indeed truly one, not

like other things which at the same time that they are many, are also

one through the participation of unity. For we must now receive one

itself, which is not one by participation, like such things as are not

more truly one than many. We must likewise assert that the intelligible

world is more one than other things, and that nothing is nearer than

this to unity itself: at the same time that it is not purely one.

But for the present we desire to contemplate, if possible, the nature

of the pure and true one, which is not one from another, but from

itself alone. It is therefore here requisite, to transfer ourselves

on all sides to one itself, without adding any thing to its nature,

and to acquiesce entirely in its contemplation; being careful lest we

should wander from him in the least, and fall from one into two. But if

we are less cautious we shall contemplate two, nor in the two possess

the one itself; for they are both posterior to unity. And one will not

suffer itself to be numerated with another, nor indeed to be numbered

at all: for it is a measure free from all mensuration. Nor is it equal

to any others, so as to agree with them in any particular, or it would

inherit something in common with its connumerated natures; and thus

this common something, would be superior to one though this is utterly

impossible. Hence neither essential number, nor number posterior to

this, which properly pertains to quantity can be predicated of one:

not essential number whose essence always consists in intellection;

nor that which regards quantity, since it embraces unity, together

with other things different from one. For the nature pertaining to

number which is inherent in quantity, imitating the nature essential

to prior numbers, and looking back upon true unity, procures its own

essence, neither dispersing nor dividing unity, but while it becomes

the duad, the one remains prior to the duad, and is different from both

the unities comprehended by the duad, and from each apart. For why

should the duad be unity itself? Or one unity of the duad rather than

another, be one itself? If then neither both together, nor each apart

is unity itself, certainly unity which is the origin of all number,

is different from all these; and while it truly abides, seems after a

manner not to abide. But how are those unities different from the one?

And how is the duad in a certain respect one? And again, is it the same

one, which is preserved in the comprehension of each unity? Perhaps it

must be said that both unities, participate of the first unity, but

are different from that which they participate: and that the duad so

far as it is a certain one participates of one itself, yet not every

where after the same manner: for an army, and a house are not similarly

one; since these when compared with continued quantity, are not one,

either with respect to essence, or quantity. Are then the unities in

the pentad, differently related to one, from those in the decad? But is

the one contained in the pentad, the same with the one in the decad?

Perhaps also if the whole of a small ship is compared with the whole

of a large one, a city to a city, and an army to an army, there will

be in these the same one. But if not in the first instance, neither in

these. However, if any farther doubts remain, we must leave them to a

subsequent discussion.

But let us return to unity itself, asserting that it always remains

the same, though all things flow from it as their inexhaustible

fountain. In numbers, indeed, while unity abides in the simplicity

of its essence, number producing another is generated according to

this abiding one. But the one which is above beings, much more abides

in ineffable station. But while it abides, another does not produce

beings, according to the nature of one: for it is sufficient of itself

to the generation of beings. But as in numbers the form of the first

monad is preserved in all numbers, in the first and second degree

while each of the following numbers do not equally participate of

unity; so in the order of things, every nature subordinate to the

first, contains something of the first, as it were his vestige or form

in its essence. And in numbers, indeed, the participation of unity

produces their quantity. But here the vestige of one gives essence to

all the series of divine numbers, so that being itself, is as were the

footstep of ineffable unity. Hence he who asserts that τὸ εἶναι, which

is a denomination declarative of essence, is derived from τὸ ἕν, that

is, _one_, will not perhaps deviate from the truth. But that which is

called τὸ ὄν, that is, _being_, first of all shining forth from the

depths of unity, and as it were not far proceeding from thence, is

unwilling to advance beyond its original, but abides converted to its

most interior retreats, where it becomes essence, and the essence of

all things, and that which pronounces these; containing itself as it

were in its labouring with sound; and declaring by its speech that it

flows from one: and indeed τὸ ὄν thus pronounced, signifies its origin

as much as possible. So that what becomes οὐσία, that is _essence_,

and εἶναι or _to be_, imitate to the utmost their author, from whose

unwearied power they perpetually flow. But intellect perceiving this,

and being moved by the spectacle, and imitating what it knows, suddenly

produces with an energetic voice the words ὄν, εἶναι, οὐσία, ἑστία.

For these sounds endeavour to express the substance of that which is

generated, (the pronouncing nature labouring with the expression;) and

imitate as much as possible the origin of being itself.

But this must be left to every one’s particular determination. But

since generated essence is form, (and that which is produced from

thence can have no other appellation,) it is not a particular form,

but universal, so that nothing else than this general form remains

to species; and therefore it is necessary that one itself should be

destitute of form. But since it is foreign from species neither can

it be essence: since it is requisite that essence should be something

determinate. But it is not lawful to consider unity itself as any thing

particular and bounded, otherwise it would not be the principle, but

that alone which you denominate something singular. If then all things

are contained in that nature which is generated from the first, we must

truly say that the author of all things, is not any one of these, and

that he can alone be called that which is above all. But the natures

produced from thence are beings, and being itself; and hence the one

itself is superior to being. And that which is above being, does not

say I am this, nor does it determine any thing concerning its nature,

nor does it tell its name, but it alone pronounces, _I am not this_,

i.e. _I am nothing comprehensible and definite_. But it is impossible

by this means, to comprehend its nature; since it is ridiculous to

attempt to comprehend immensity itself. So that whoever attempts it,

removes himself far from the least vestige of this nature. For as he

who desires to know intelligible essence, then only perceives what

is above sense, when he possesses no image of a sensible object:

so he who desires to contemplate a nature superior to intelligible

essence, will enjoy the ineffable vision, if he neglects every thing

intelligible, while merged in the most profound and delightful of all

contemplations; learning from hence, that he is, but neglecting the

enquiry into what he is, as impossible to investigate. For this which

is called _such_, signifies when applied to him, not such: since the

appellation of such cannot belong to a nature, to whom the predication

_what_, is not applied. But we labouring as it were with our difficulty

of conception, are ignorant what denomination is proper to his nature,

and desiring as much as possible to signify something to ourselves

give a name to that which is ineffable. But perhaps this name which is

called one derives its appellation from a certain negation of many. On

which account the Pythagoreans denominated him Apollo, according to a

more secret signification, which also implies a negation of many. But

if any one establishes this name one, and affirms something according

to its signification, both the name and the thing named will be more

obscure than if its appellation had been entirely neglected. For

perhaps the name was expressed that the investigator beginning from

something signifying the greatest simplicity of all might arrive at

that perfection of contemplation, as even to deny him the appellation

of one; convinced that the best name indeed had been assigned him,

but that it was unworthy to express the superlative excellence of his

nature. For _this_ cannot be reached by the hearing, nor be understood

by any hearer: but if it is manifest to any one, it must be to the

profound beholder. But if he who perceives, endeavours to behold form,

he will lose the intuition of this ineffable nature.

Again, the energy of vision is two-fold, as it happens with respect

to the eye. For one thing, indeed, is a spectacle to the eye, that

is, the form of the sensible object, but another, that by which it

perceives the form, and which though itself sensible, is different from

the sensible form. Hence it is the cause by which form is beheld, is

inherent in form, and is perceived connected with its nature: though on

this account it is not clearly perceived, since the eye more intently

directs itself to the illuminated object than to the illuminating

cause. But when there is nothing besides itself, it is beheld with

a sudden and universal vision, though it should then be perceived

adhering to some other object: for if it was entirely separate and

alone, it could not be subject to sensible inspection; since the light

of the sun flourishing in the sun itself, would perhaps escape our

sense, unless its more solid orb was the subject of its splendor.

But if it should be said that the whole sun is light, it is perhaps

only asserted for the sake of explanation: for light is in no form of

other visible objects, and is perhaps nothing else than that which

is visible[65], while other things are visible, but not light alone;

since their natures are various and composite. In like manner the eye

of intellect, sees from another light things illuminated by that first

nature, and in them it truly sees their illuminating source. But when

it too earnestly converts itself to the nature of the illuminated

objects, it perceives less their splendid original. And if at any time

it should dismiss the visible objects, and attentively survey the

light by which it perceives, it will then view light itself, and the

principle of light. But because it is requisite that intellect should

behold a light of this kind, not as any thing external; let us return

again to the example of the corporeal eye, which on a time does not

perceive external and foreign light, but previous to this beholds a

light more peculiarly its own, and by far more lucid, shining in a

certain inviolate and pure seat; either when it perceives before itself

a ray darting from its transparent receptacle, through the darkness of

night; or when not disposed to behold other objects, it confines itself

under the covering of the eye-lids, and in the mean time produces from

itself a purer light within; or lastly, when some one by pressing

the corners of his eye-lids, views the inward light of the eye. For

then, indeed, by not seeing he sees, and then sees in the most exalted

degree; for he views light itself: while other things which were the

objects of this vision before, were indeed lucid, without being light.

In like manner intellect concealing and separating itself from all

other concerns, and confining itself in its most inward retreats, and

perceiving nothing, will immediately behold light, not subsisting in

another, but by itself alone, perfectly pure, and suddenly shining from

itself, with a splendor ineffably sacred and divine.

But in this case it will be doubtful from whence such a light shines;

whether from something external, or rather from an internal source:

and again when it departs we may happen to say, this was something

intimate, and again not intimate. But, indeed, it is not lawful to

enquire from whence it originated, for it neither approached hither,

nor again departs from hence to some other place, but it either appears

to us, or does not appear. So that we ought not to pursue it, as if

with a view of discovering its latent original, but to abide in quiet,

till it suddenly shines upon us; preparing ourselves for this blessed

spectacle, like the eye waiting patiently for the rising of the sun,

until appearing above the horizon, and emerging, as the poets say,

from the bosom of the ocean, he presents himself to the sight. But

from whence does this light which the sun imitates supernally shine?

And what is the nature which it transcends, when it perspicuously

presents itself to our view? Indeed it illuminates intellect, intently

surveying its lustre. So that intellect stops itself in beholding,

as having now arrived at the desired end of its vision, looking upon

nothing else than the beautiful itself; converting itself wholly to its

contemplation, and dedicating itself entirely to its enjoyment. Hence

abiding in this delightful state, and as it were replete with divine

vigour, it beholds itself in the first place now become more beautiful

and refulgent, as being nearer to that which is highest and best. But

he will not approach in the manner some may expect; since he will come

as if not coming. For he will be present before and above all things,

even before intellect approaches to the vision. But it is intellect

which properly approaches and departs; which departs indeed when it

is ignorant where it should abide, and where this divine principle

abides: because indeed it truly abides in no being. And if intellect

could be no where (I do not mean with respect to place only since this

also is free from the affections of place) but entirely no where, it

would doubtless always behold his divinely solitary nature, although

it would become united with him, not as perceiving, but as abiding in

his nature; and this not as if intellect and this highest principle

were two. But now because it is intellect, it thus sees when it sees,

by that which it contains different from intellect, and which is the

very summit and flower of its essence. And, indeed, it is wonderful

in what manner this first god is present without approaching, and how

while he is no where, he is at the same time every where. This indeed

is wonderful from its very condition, but to him who profoundly knows

the thing itself, it would rather be admirable if the contrary should

be affirmed. Or rather, indeed, it cannot exist otherwise than as the

object of vehement admiration. For such is the nature of the supreme.

Whatsoever is produced by another, is either contained in its author,

or in some other nature, if any thing besides its author remains: for

since it is produced by another, and requires something different from

itself to its generation, it every where requires another nature for

its support, and consequently reposes in another, from the necessary

indigence of its being. And thus it is appointed by nature, that such

things as are last, should be established in such as are immediately

above them: and again things prior to these, in such as are similarly

prior, and always one thing in another up to the first principle of

all. But the highest principle, because he has nothing prior to his

nature, cannot subsist in any other. And hence because he is not in

another, but others subsist in their superiors, on this account he

comprehends all things in the immensity of his nature. But while he

embraces them, he is not dissipated into their essence, since he

contains them without being contained; yet in this case, there is

nothing exists, with which he is not present: for unless he was present

he could not contain: and again, if he did not contain, he could not be

present. So that he is present, and yet not present: for, because he is

not comprehended by any thing, he is by no means present; but because

he is free from all circumscription, he is not hindered from being

present every where: for if he were restrained, he would certainly be

defined by some particular being, and subsequent natures, would be left

destitute of his presence; and, thus far the first deity would reign,

nor would any thing farther subsist in his nature, nor would he abide

in himself, but become subservient to others. Whatever, therefore,

subsists in any thing different from itself, is properly there, where

it subsists. But such as are not any where, are on this account present

every where. For whatever is excluded from some particular place, is

comprehended in some other, so that it is false to affirm of such a

nature that it is not contained some where. If then it is true that the

supreme principle is not in any particular place, and false, that he

is somewhere (lest he should be contained in another), he is on this

account absent from no being or place. But if he is no where absent,

certainly because he is not somewhere, he will be every where present

in himself: for one part of him will not be here, and another there,

nor yet the whole of him in one particular place only, so that he will

be every where totally present; since no one being contains him, nor

yet in another sense does not contain him, since he is so contained,

that he may rather be said to contain. But in order to illustrate the

present subject, let us consider our visible universe, for if there

were no other world superior to this, it would neither be contained in

the world, nor yet in place. For what place could there be prior to

the existence of the world? But the parts of the world are reduced to

the universe, and are placed in its comprehensive bound. And soul is

not in the world, but rather the world is in soul: for neither is body

the place of soul, but soul is in intellect, and body in soul. Lastly,

intellect abides in another, which is no longer dependent on any thing

superior, and in which it is compelled to repose: so that the highest

principle is properly contained in no other, and is on this account

said to be no where. Where then do other things subsist? Doubtless in

that which is first. Hence he is neither absent from others, nor is

contained in them, while at the same time he contains all things in the

immensity of his nature. Hence too, on this account he is considered as

the good of the universe; because all things subsist by him, and are

referred to him as their divine original. But they are so referred to

him, that some are more excellent than others, because some are more

proximate than others to his ineffable nature.

But let me intreat you, not to endeavour to perceive him through the

medium of other natures, for otherwise you will not discover the

highest principle himself, but only a vestige of his divinity. But

consider with yourself what that is, which can alone be perceived

abiding in itself, perfectly pure and unmixt, and which is of such a

kind that all things participate yet none contain its nature; so that

nothing else can be such as he is, and yet it is necessary that such a

nature should subsist. What being then can at once apprehend the whole

of his power? For if any one apprehends the whole, in what respect

does he differ from his nature? Must he be received then according to

a part? But you who are intent on beholding him, should survey him

with a universal vision, and at the same time be cautious not to tell

yourself the whole of your perception, or you will become intellect,

intelligent: but he will immediately fly from your intuition, or rather

you will retire from him. But when you behold, behold him totally; and

when you energize with intellect concerning him, whatever you retain

in your memory of his nature, be careful to understand it as the good.

For he is the cause of a wise and intellectual life; since he is that

power itself, from which life and intellect is produced; and he is

the author of essence and being, because he is the one itself. And he

is perfectly simple, and the first, because he is the principle of

all. For all things flow from him as their original source; motion

first proceeded from him, yet is not contained in his nature; station

likewise originates from him, because he is superior to want: for he

is neither moved, nor at rest, since he contains nothing in which he

can either repose or revolve. For about what, or to what, or in what

can he either be moved, or repose, since he is the first? But neither

can he be defined, for what can bound his nature? Nor yet again, is he

infinite, like an immense bulk. And where can he be said to advance,

as if he were indigent, who is in want of nothing? But his power

contains infinity itself. Nor is he ever deficient, since beings who

are superior to defect derive this perfection from the inexhaustible

plenitude of his nature.

But this infinite is so called, because it is not more than one, and

because it does not contain any thing, by which any part as it were of

its nature can be bounded. Indeed, from its being one, it is neither

measured, nor proceeds into number; and therefore is neither terminated

by another, nor by itself: for if this were the case it would become

two. Nor again has it any figure, because it has no parts, nor form. Do

not, therefore, seek after its ineffable vision with mortal eyes; nor

attempt to perceive by any corporeal means, that which reason proves

to be so remote from the comprehension of sense. Do not, I say, think

it can be known in the manner they imagine, who consider all things

as sensibles; and thus entirely subvert that which _Is_, in the most

exalted degree. For those things, which some consider as having the

most real being, have the most unreal. And that which is great in

quantity is least in being: but that which is first in the principle of

being, and something more excellent that essence; so that our opinion

must become the very opposite to this, or we shall be destitute of

the union with this most exalted deity. Just as those who in solemn

festivals, through a shameful gluttony, fill themselves with food which

it is unlawful for those to touch who intend an entrance to the gods;

esteeming the aliment of the belly more certain than the contemplation

of the god whose rites are to be celebrated, and on this account they

depart destitute of the sacred visions. For in such holy rites when

the god is not beheld, his existence is denied by those who consider

as alone certain that which is tasted and perceived by the flesh. Just

as if any one should be lost in sleep through the whole of life, and

should therefore believe in the visions of sleep, as alone certain and

real. But if any one happens to rouse him, as one who does not believe

in objects beheld with open eyes, should suddenly return again to

sleep, and the delusions of dreams.

Again, it is requisite for the purpose of perceiving, to assume

that organ by which each particular ought to be beheld. The eyes for

some, the ears for others, and so of the rest. And it is necessary to

believe, that other things are the peculiar objects of intellect, and

that to understand is not the same as to hear and to see; for this

would be as absurd as if any one should command the ears to perceive,

and should on this account deny the existence of voices, because they

are not the objects of sight. Hence, we must consider such as these

ignorant of that which from the beginning to the present day they

desire and affect: for all things desire that which is first from a

necessity of nature, prophesying, as it were, that they cannot subsist

without the incomprehensible energies of his nature. Besides the

knowledge of beauty, happens to such souls as are roused and knowing;

and is attended with a stupor, and the excitation of love. But good,

because present from the beginning to our innate appetite, abides with

us even when asleep, and never seizes its spectators with astonishment,

because it is always present, and requires no peculiar reminiscence

to convince us of its presence. But the love of beauty, when it

first offers itself to the view, produces molestation, because it is

requisite to seek after beauty by knowledge: but a love of this kind

since it is the second, and belonging to those who are intelligent,

plainly indicates that beauty is itself the second; and the desire of

good, since it is more ancient, and does not require the assistance of

the senses, testifies that good itself is more ancient than beauty,

and is superior to its nature. Add to this, that all beings think they

shall be sufficient to themselves, if they obtain good; as if secretly

convinced they shall then at length arrive at the desired end: but

all do not think the possession of beauty, will be sufficient to the

completion of their wishes. Besides some judge that what is beautiful,

is beautiful to itself, but not to them, as is the case with this our

apparent beauty. For they judge that its possessor is beautiful; and

consider it sufficient to appear beautiful though deprived of its real

possession: but they do not desire to possess good in opinion, but in

reality. For all things especially strive to procure for themselves

that which is first; and contend with beauty, as it were with a desire

of victory, as if conscious it was generated, as well as themselves.

Just as if some one posterior to a king, should study to equal in

dignity another who immediately follows the king, and is the next to

him in royal pre-eminence; because he depends on one and the same

principle as his rival, being ignorant, indeed, that he himself depends

on the king, but that the other precedes him in priority and perfection

of nature. But the cause of the error is their both participating of

the same; and one itself being prior to both. Besides it appears that

good itself is by to means indigent of the beautiful, but the beautiful

cannot subsist without the good. Hence good is gentle, mild, placid,

delicate, and such as every one wishes it to occur. But beauty either

renders the soul stupid, or mingles the excited pleasure with grief.

Lastly, it often causes incautious souls to deviate from good, as the

beloved object often separates the lover from his parent. For beauty

is of a junior nature, but good is more ancient, not indeed in time,

but in truth, because it possesses a prior power: for it possesses

universal power. But that which is subordinate to the good, does not

receive all power, but such only as it is requisite for a nature

posterior to the first, and originating from him to receive. So that

he is the lord of this posterior power, and is in no respect indigent

of his offspring, the beautiful, since he existed such as he is prior

to its generation; and would have suffered no loss in the perfection

of his nature, if this had not been generated. And if some other could

be produced from his nature, he would not envy it the possession of

being. But now nothing farther can be generated: for nothing remains,

which has not been already produced, since the universe is complete.

But this highest principle is not all things, for in this case he would

be indigent of all: but surpassing all things, he is able to produce

and permit all things to themselves; while, at the same time, he is

eminently exalted above all by the incomprehensible dignity of his

nature.

But since the supreme principle is good itself and not merely good,

it is requisite he should contain nothing in himself, since he does

not even contain good. For if he possessed any thing, he would either

possess good, or that which is not good: but in that which is properly

the first good, non-good, can have no subsistence; nor yet can good

itself contain good. If then it neither possesses non-good, nor good,

it contains nothing; and if it contains nothing it is alone, dwelling

in solitary unity, retired from the universality of things. If then

other natures are either good (yet not good itself); or, perhaps,

such as are non-good, but he contains neither of these, certainly by

possessing nothing he is good itself. If then any one adds to his

nature either essence, or intellect, or beauty, by such an addition he

deprives him of being the good itself. As on the other hand by taking

away all things, and affirming nothing concerning his nature, nor

deceiving in any respect, as if something was present with his nature,

we shall permit him to be what he is; testifying concerning him none

of these properties of being, which are not present with a cause so

sublimely remote from essence itself. In which respect those for the

most part err, who, when they are ignorant how any one ought to be

praised, detract from the glory of the subject of their praise, while

they add such things to his nature, as are beneath its dignity; not

knowing how to accommodate true praise to its proper object. On this

account we ought also, in the first place, to beware, lest we add any

thing posterior, and unworthy to the divine object of our praise; and

to observe that he who surpasses all these, is, indeed, their proper

cause without possessing any of their properties and affections. For

the nature of good does not consist in being either all things, or some

one particular of all. Since, if he was some one particular of all, he

would be contained under one and the same nature together with all. But

if he is under one and the same nature together with others, he will

vary from others, only by a certain proper difference and addition.

Hence, in this case, he will be two and not one; one part of which two,

I mean that which is common to it with the rest, will be non-good:

and the other will be good. He will, therefore, be mixed from good

and non-good, and consequently will not be the pure and first good.

But that will be the first good, of which this participating becomes

good beyond the common condition. This then will be good by a certain

participation: but that of which this participates, will be none of

the universality of things; and such, therefore, must be the condition

of the good itself. But if this too contains good as a part, for it

is difference by which this is a composite good; it is necessary that

this should depend on another, which is entirely simple, and alone

good. And hence this which is various depends upon that which is good

alone. So that it appears, that what is first, and the good itself, is

above all beings, is good alone, and contains nothing in its nature,

but is perfectly free from all mixture; and that it is above all, and

is the divinely solitary cause of all. For neither does beauty nor

being originate from evil, nor yet from such things as are indifferent:

for the efficient is better than the effect; since it is more perfect

and divine.” And this much for the first book of Plotinus, which we

proposed to insert; the other on intelligible beauty is as follows:

“Since we must confess that the soul which contemplates the

intelligible world, and beholds the beauty of true intellect, may also

perceive the father of this divine world, who is superior to intellect:

let us now endeavour to the utmost of our ability to behold, and to

express to ourselves (as much as such things can be expressed) how we

may in the best manner survey the beauty of intellect, and the world

which it contains. Suppose then, two stony masses placed near each

other, one of which is incomposite, and destitute of artificial form:

but the other is fashioned by art into some divine, or human statue.

And if divine, let it be the statue of some Grace or a Muse: but if

human, not that of any particular man, but rather of some one which

art has collected together from all beautiful forms. The stone then

which is disposed by art into the beauty of form, will immediately

appear beautiful, but not because it is a stone; or other mass would

be similarly beautiful; it is therefore beautiful because it possesses

the form which art applies. Matter, therefore, had not this form, but

it existed in the thinking artist before it came into the stone. But

it was in the artificer, not on account of his possessing eyes and

hands, but because he was endued with art. This beauty, therefore,

existed in art in a much more excellent manner. For the form itself

which abides in art does not proceed into the stone, but this abides

in indivisible union, while an inferior form proceeds from this, which

neither remains in itself pure, nor is such as the artist wishes,

but such as the subject matter is capable of receiving. But if art

operates according to what it is, and to what it possesses, but it

fashions beautiful forms, according to the reason by which it acts:

hence reason is a much greater and truer beauty, since it contains the

beauty of art; and is greater and more excellent than every thing which

proceeds into external form. For so far as form proceeding into matter

is extended, so far it becomes more debile than that which abides in

one. Since whatever suffers distance in itself, departs from itself,

and the integrity of its nature; whether it is strength diffused

into some participant; or heat, or power, or beauty extended to some

subject, and divided about the fluctuating receptacle of matter. Again,

every efficient according to itself, ought to be more excellent than

its effect: for that which is unharmonious does not form a musician,

but this is the work of harmony; and that music which is above sense,

produces the harmony in sensible sound. But if any one despised the

arts, because they operate imitating nature, in the first place, it

must be confessed, that natures also imitate other things: and in the

next place, that arts do not simply imitate that which is perceived by

the eyes, but recur to those reasons from which the energy of nature

consists. Besides this, they produce many things from themselves, and

add something where any thing is wanting to the perfection of the

whole; because they contain beauty in themselves. Lastly, Phidias

himself fashioned his Jupiter, not by imitating any spectacle proper

to the senses; but conceiving the god such as he would appear, if he

should be willing to exhibit himself to our eyes.

But for the present let us neglect the arts, and consider those

beautiful natural effects, which art is said to imitate, i.e. all

rational and irrational animals; but especially whatever amongst these

are more exactly finished: I mean where the Demiurgus ruling over

matter, invests it with the form he desires it should participate.

What then is beauty in these? For it is not blood and menstrua, but

colour and figure different from these; or it is nothing; or something

destitute of figure; or it is that which, as it were, contains

something simple like matter. From whence arose the beauty of Helen,

for which so great a contest ensued? From whence shines the beauty of

other forms similar to Venus? And from whence did the form of Venus

herself arise? Or that of any man entirely beautiful, or of some god,

whether they are among the number of things subject to our sight,

or among those which are not subject, and yet have in themselves a

conspicuous beauty. Is not this every where form, descending into that

which is produced by the artificer, in the same manner, as it was said

that the beauty of artificial figures, proceeded from the arts. What

then? Are works beautiful indeed, and reason existing in matter? But

is reason separate from matter, which exists in the soul of the agent,

and which is first in dignity and rank, not beautiful, but is reduced

into one with its subject matter? But if bulk is beautiful, so far as

bulk, it follows that active reason, because it is not bulk, is not

beautiful: though if form, whether contained in a small or in a large

mass, moves and affects in a similar manner the mind of the beholder,

certainly beauty is not to be attributed to the magnitude of bulk.

Hence, so long as form is external to the soul, we do not perceive,

and are not moved by its power: but when it is well conceived in the

soul then it affects us with delight. Again, the form of things alone,

flows through the eyes, otherwise the most ample figures could not

penetrate through such narrow receptacles. But magnitude is contracted,

not from its being great in bulk, but rather because great in species

or form. Besides it is necessary that the cause itself of a beautiful

effect, should be either deformed, or indifferent, or beautiful. If

it is deformed, it cannot produce the contrary to deformity. If it is

indifferent, why should it rather produce any thing beautiful, than

deformed. But, indeed, it is necessary that nature the artificer of

things so beautiful, should possess a beauty more primary and exalted.

But with regard to us, when we behold nothing inward, and are entirely

ignorant of internal beauty, we follow what is external, unconscious

in the mean time that the cause of motion is profoundly latent in the

depths of the soul; just like one, who on perceiving his own image,

and being ignorant from whence it came, should follow its shadowy and

unreal progression. But that there is something else which allures

followers to itself, and that beauty does not consist in magnitude is

sufficiently testified, by the beauty inherent in disciplines, offices,

and the soul: where certainly a more true beauty flourishes; which is

then manifest, when we contemplate the wisdom in a worthy mind, and

are delighted with the contemplation, and in love with its beauty; not

then surveying the corporeal face, which perhaps is not beautiful, but

neglecting the whole form of the body and pursuing inward beauty to

its most sacred and profound retreats. But if such a soul does not yet

incite you to denominate it beautiful, neither on surveying yourself

inwardly, will you be delighted with yourself as with something

beautiful. Hence while so affected, you will vainly investigate true

and intimate beauty: for you will seek after the purity of beauty,

not with something pure, but with that which is base; and hence too,

a discourse on things of this kind is not to be addressed to all men.

Because if you behold yourself beautiful, you may obtain a reminiscence

of beauty itself.

The reason therefore of the beauty contained in nature is the exemplar

of the beauty appearing in body: but the exemplar of natural beauty,

is a more beautiful reason contained in soul, from which the beauty

of nature flows. But this shines brighter in a worthy soul, already

advanced in beauty, than in nature herself: since it adorns such a

soul, and affords a light, derived from one much greater; and which

is no other than the first beauty. Thus abiding in the soul, it leads

it to consider, what that superior reason of beauty may be, which is

no longer generated nor placed in another, but abides perpetually

in itself. Hence it is not reason, but the author of that reason

which is first: since indeed the first reason is a certain beauty

subsisting in soul as in matter. But its author is intellect, which

is always the same, and not sometimes intellect; because intelligence

does not happen extrinsical to this true and original intellect. But

what image are we able to receive of such an intellect? For whatever

is enquired after externally, is doubtless sought for from something

worse than intellect. An image therefore of intellect must be obtained

from intellect itself; so that we must not speak of it through the

medium of an image; but we must receive a certain portion of gold,

as a representative of universal gold. And unless this received gold

is pure, we must purify it either in reality, or at least in our

discourse; demonstrating that this which is received by us, is not

universal, but only a particular portion of gold. Thus then let us

ascend higher from our intellect now purified, to intellect itself;

and let us begin with the gods themselves, contemplating the intellect

which they possess. For all the gods are venerable and beautiful, and

endued with an inestimable gracefulness. But what is the cause of such

beauty? It is intellect, energising in the most exalted manner, which

produces their divinely beautiful appearance. For it is not because

their bodies are beautiful that they are gods, but from the possession

of intellect, since the participation of body, is not essential to

divinity. For they are not at one time wise, and at another time the

contrary; but they are perpetually wise, with a tranquil, stable,

and pure intellect, understanding all things, and knowing not human

concerns properly, but their own, that is such as are divine, and such

as intellect itself perceives. But the gods who inhabit this visible

heaven, for they abound in divine leisure, assiduously contemplate,

as if it were above them, what the primary and intelligible heaven

contains. But those who are stationed in this higher world, contemplate

its inhabitants possessing the whole of this diviner heaven. For all

things there are heaven. There the sea, animals, plants, and men are

heaven. Lastly every portion of this heaven is celestial. But the gods

who reside there, do not disdain men, nor any other of its inhabitants,

because every thing there is divine; and they comprehend the whole of

this intelligible region attended with the most perfect repose.

Hence the life of these divinities is easy, and truth is their

generator and nurse, their essence and nutriment: hence they perceive

all things, not such indeed as are subject to generation, but such as

abide in essence: they likewise perceive themselves in others. For

all things are there perfectly perspicuous. Nothing there is dark,

nothing opposing, but every thing is conspicuous to all, intrinsically

and universally. For light every where meets with light. Each thing

contains in itself all, and all things are again beheld in another. So

that all things are every where, and all is all. There every thing is

all. There an immense splendour shines. There every thing is great,

since even what is small is there great. There the sun is all the

stars; and every star is a sun, and at the same time all the stars.

But one thing excels in each, while in the mean time all things are

beheld in each. There motion is perfectly pure: for the proceeding

motion is not confounded by a mover foreign from the motion. Station

also there is disturbed by no mutation: for it is not mingled with an

unstable nature. Besides beauty there is beauty itself, because it

does not subsist in beauty. But every thing abides there not as if

placed in some foreign land; for the being of each is its own stable

foundation: nor is its essence different from its seat; for its subject

is intellect, and itself is intellect. Just as if any one should

conceive this sensible heaven, which is manifest and lucid to the eyes,

germinating into stars by its light. In corporeal natures indeed,

one part is not every where produced from another, but each part is

distinct from the rest. But there each thing is every where produced

from the whole; and is at the same time particular, and the whole. It

appears indeed as a part: but by him who acutely perceives, it will be

beheld as a whole: by him I mean, who is endued with a sight similar

to that of the lynx, the rays of whose eyes are reported to penetrate

the depths of the earth. For it appears to me that this fable, occultly

signifies the perspicuousness of supernal eyes. Besides the vision of

these blessed inhabitants is never wearied, and never ceases through

a satiety of perceiving. For there is no vacuity in any perceiver,

which when afterwards filled up, can bring intuition to an end. Nor

can pleasure ever fail through the variety of objects; or through

any discord between the perceiver and the thing perceived. Besides

every thing there is endued with an untamed and unwearied power. And

that which can never be filled, is so called, because its plenitude

never spurns at its replenishing object. For by intuition it more

assiduously perceives. And beholding itself infinite, and the objects

of its perception, it follows its own nature as its guide in unwearied

contemplation. Again, no life there is laborious, since it is pure

life: for why should that labour, which lives in the best manner? But

the life there is wisdom, a wisdom not obtained by arguments like ours,

because it is always total, nor is in any part deficient, from which it

might require investigation. But it is the first wisdom, not depending

on any other; and essence itself is there wisdom; yet not in such a

manner that essence is first, and then wisdom succeeds as secondary and

an adjunct. Hence, no wisdom is greater than this, but there science

itself is the associate of intellect, because they both germinate, and

beam with divine splendors together: in the same manner as by a certain

imitation they report that justice resides with Jupiter. For every

thing of this kind exists there like a lucid resemblance perspicuous

from itself, so as to become the spectacle of transcendently happy

spectators.

The magnitude and power therefore of wisdom itself, is sufficiently

evident from its containing with itself, and producing beings: for all

things which are true pursue wisdom, depend on it for their being,

originate together with it, and have one and the same essence: and

lastly essence there is no other than wisdom itself. But we do not

yet approach to this exalted knowledge, because we consider sciences,

as certain speculations, and rules, and a conflux of propositions,

which indeed ought not with propriety to be attributed to the sciences

we possess. But if any one doubts concerning our sciences, we must

neglect the discussion for the present, at the same time assuming an

occasion from hence let us dispute concerning that science, which Plato

beholding in the intelligible world says, that science there is not one

thing in another. And this investigation will be proper to us, if we

profess ourselves worthy an appellation of this kind.

Whatsoever is made by nature or art, is produced by a certain wisdom,

and every where wisdom is the leader of action. But wheresoever

a certain wisdom fabricates, there are indeed arts of this kind.

But the artificer himself is again referred into natural wisdom,

according to which art produces every work; not by being collected

from speculations, but as one certain whole; nor as composed from many

into one, but rather as resolving itself from one into many. If any

one therefore places this wisdom as the first in intelligible dignity,

it will be sufficient, since it does not originate from another, and

does not subsist in any other essence. But if he should say that

reason is placed in nature, and that the principle of this is nature,

we must enquire from whence nature possesses reason. Because if it is

said to possess it from another, we again enquire of that other; and

if it possesses it from itself, our investigation is finished. But if

they fly to intellect, there again we must enquire, whether intellect

generates wisdom. And if they confess it does, we ask from whence?

But if it conceives wisdom from itself, it could not accomplish this,

unless intellect is wisdom itself. True wisdom therefore is essence,

and true essence is wisdom; and the dignity of essence is derived

from wisdom. For it appears that true essence originates from wisdom.

Hence whatever things are destitute of the wisdom of essence; so far

indeed as they are made by a certain wisdom, they are essences; but

because they do not contain in themselves any wisdom, they are not true

essences. No one therefore ought to think that in the intelligible

world, either the gods themselves or any of its transcendently happy

inhabitants, contemplate certain rules of propositions; but that each

of the objects there contained, offers itself to the beholders, like

a beautiful spectacle, such as may be imagined to exist in the soul

of a man divinely wise. Not indeed like painted resemblances, but

true beings shining with intellectual splendors: on which account the

antients called ideas, beings and essences.

But the wise men of the Egyptians whether from a certain accurate

science, or from natural instinct, when they determined to signify

to us the mysteries of wisdom, appear to me not to have used figures

significant of letters, discourses, and propositions, nor things

imitating voices and axioms; but rather by describing and painting

the particular images of particular things in their sacred concerns,

to have occultly signified the discursive energy of the thing itself.

For indeed every image is a certain science and wisdom; it is likewise

a subject; and is a spectacle collected into one; and is neither

cogitation, nor counsel. But afterwards from this image, or wisdom

collected into one, an evolved resemblance is produced in something

else, speaking in a discursive transition, and finding out the causes

why things are thus instituted: while the thing thus beautifully

disposed, excites admiration. Hence it is said that he will admire

wisdom, who considers how without containing the causes of her essence,

she affords to others which are fashioned according to her nature,

their particular mode of existence. This beautiful disposition of

things then, which is scarcely manifest from enquiry, if any one should

discover, he must own it requisite that in the intelligible world,

things should subsist previous to all argument and enquiry, as in one

great nature which harmonizes the whole.

Can we think that this universe, which we confess to be derived

and to exist in this manner, from another, was so composed by its

artificer, that he thought within himself concerning the earth; and

considered that it ought to rest in the middle? And that afterwards he

reasoned concerning the connection of water with earth, and the orderly

disposition of things as far as to the heavens? But in the next place

concerning all animals, and such, and so many forms of particular vital

beings, as they are at present; and the disposition as well of the

inward as of the external parts and members? And lastly that he began

to produce things in energy, as they were disposed in himself? But such

a consideration could not subsist with the artificer of the universe.

For how could it take place in him, who had not as yet seen such things

in existence? Nor is it possible that he could fabricate, by receiving

external assistance, after the manner of human artificers, who operate

with hands and instruments: for hands and feet were posterior to his

energy. It remains therefore that all things must subsist in their

divine cause, and since no medium intervenes, that by the propinquity

of being itself, to another, its image and similitude should as it

were on a sudden shine forth, whether from itself alone, or through

the ministry of soul. For it is of no consequence at present whether

or not the world was fabricated properly through a certain soul, if

it is but admitted that all things emanated from thence, and subsist

there in greater beauty and perfection. For here they are mixt, but

there they are pure. But this universe proceeding, from thence, is

comprehended by forms from beginning to end. In the first place matter

is the receptacle of the elementary forms, and of others in continual

succession; so that it is difficult to find matter, thus concealed

under a multitude of forms. But since it possesses a certain ultimate

form, it easily becomes the subject of every form. Hence since the

exemplar of the universe is form, he produced all forms; and this

without any difficulty or violence, because the artificer there is a

divine universe, and essence, and form. Hence too his fabrication was

easy, and without labour: for there was no impediment; and on this

account he now rules over his work with absolute dominion. And although

some particulars are every where in opposition to others, yet they

cannot now oppose the universal fabric, for it abides as the whole.

Indeed I think if we were the first exemplars of things, and at the

same time essence, and forms, and if the form which operates here was

our essence, that our fabrication would rule without labour, though

man as at present should fabricate a form different from himself. For

becoming man he ceases to be the universe: but when he ceases to be

man as Plato says, he raises himself on high, and governs the world.

_For being made of the whole, he also makes the whole._ But that we may

return to our design, you may indeed produce a reason, why the earth

is placed in the middle, and why it is round, or why the zodiac is

situated in a certain place: but in the intelligible world it was not

deliberated so to be, because it was requisite; but rather because it

is as it exists, on this account it is constituted as it ought: just

as if previous to a syllogistic energy through causes, the conclusion

itself should remain indubitably certain, without any propositions.

For nothing there depends on consequences, nothing becomes certain

from consideration: but it subsists prior to consequence, and all

consideration. For all these are posterior, _reason_, _demonstration_,

_faith_. Since on account of the principle all these exist, and are

thus disposed. But it is rightly said that the causes of the principle

are not to be sought after; especially of a perfect principle, which is

the same with the end: for that which is both principle and end, is at

the same time the whole, and perfect in every part.

Intellect itself, therefore, is the first beauty; it is total, and is

every where total, without suffering a defect of beauty in any part.

What then is the beautiful itself to be called? Certainly, not any

thing which is not the whole itself, but either possesses a part only,

or is entirely destitute of its participation. Indeed unless this is

the beautiful itself, what else can merit this appellation? For that

which is prior to intellect, does not will itself to be beautiful, but

is something ineffably more excellent. Hence that which first presents

itself to our view, because it is form, and a spectacle of intellect,

is by this means lovely, and pleasant to the sight. On this account

Plato wishing to intimate to us this truth, represents the demiurgus

of the universe, approving his own perfect work; willing from hence to

exhibit, by something more manifest to our apprehension, the beauty of

the exemplar, and of his great idea, as perfectly lovely. For as often

as any one admires a work, fabricated according to an exemplar, he must

particularly admire the exemplar itself. Nor ought it to seem wonderful

if in the mean time such a one, is ignorant of what he suffers: since

terrene lovers, and those who admire corporeal beauty, are ignorant

that they are thus affected, on account of supernal beauty. But that

Plato refers the demiurgus of the universe loving his work, to the

divine exemplar, is evident from hence: for he says, that he was

delighted with his work, and wished to render it still more similar to

its exemplar: evincing from this the beauty of the exemplar, for says

he its work is beautiful, because it is the image of its artificer.

For indeed unless that was inestimably beautiful, what would be more

beautiful than this universe, which is subject to our corporeal sight?

On which account they do not perceive rightly, who detract from the

beauty of this sensible world; unless in detracting they perceive that

this universe is not the intelligible world.

Let us then receive by cogitation this our sensible world, so disposed

that every part may remain indeed what it is, but that one thing

may mutually reside in another. Let us suppose that all things are

collected as much as possible into one, so that each particular object

may first present itself to the eyes; as if a sphere should be the

exterior boundary, the spectacle of the sun immediately succeeding, and

an image of the other stars, and the earth, the sea and all animals

should appear within, as in a diaphanous globe: and lastly let us

conceive that it is possible to behold all things in each. Let there

be then in the soul a lucid imagination of a sphere, containing all

things in its transparent receptacle; whether they are agitated, or at

rest; or partly mutable, and partly stable. Now preserving this sphere

receive another in your soul, removing from this last the extension

into bulk, take away likewise place, and banish far from yourself all

imagination of matter: at the same time being careful not to conceive

this second sphere, as something less than the first in bulk, for this

must be void of all dimension. After this invoke that divinity who is

the author of the universe, imaged in your phantasy, and earnestly

intreat him to approach. Then will he suddenly come, bearing with

him his own divine world, with all the gods it contains. Then will

he come, being at the same time one and all, and bringing with him

all things concurring in one. There indeed all the gods, are various

amongst themselves in gradations of power, yet by that one abundant

power they are all but one, or rather one is all: for the divinity

never fails, by which they are all produced. But all the gods abide

together, and each is again separate from the other in a certain state

unattended with distance, and bearing no form subject to sensible

inspection: or one would be situated differently from the other, nor

each be in itself all. Nor again does any one of these possess parts

different from others, and from itself: nor is every whole there a

divided power, and of a magnitude equal to its measured parts; but it

is indeed a universe, and a universal power, proceeding to infinity in

a power, which is the parent of energy. But this divine world is so

truly great, that its parts become infinite. For where can any thing

be said to exist, with which it is not extended? This sensible world

too is great, and all powers are contained in its ample bosom: but it

would be much greater, and that in a manner perfectly ineffable, if

it was free from the diminutive power of body. And if it should be

said that the power of fire and of other bodies is great, it must be

remembered that true powers are infinite, and that it is only from an

ignorance of these, that corporeal natures appear to have being, and

to operate by corrupting, separating, and ministring to the generation

of animals. But these indeed corrupt, because they are themselves

corrupted, and they generate because they are generated. But the

power which flourishes there, possesses being alone, and is alone

beautiful, without any external and adventitious qualities, which only

derogate from the dignity of essence. For where can there be any thing

beautiful, deprived of being? And where again can essence abide, if it

wants the presence of beauty? For while beauty is taken away, essence

is destroyed. On this account being itself is desirable, because being,

and beauty are the same: and the beautiful is lovely; because it is

being. But it is not proper to enquire which is the cause of the other,

since the nature of each is one and the same. The false essences indeed

of bodies, require a certain image of beauty, extrinsically acceding,

both that they may appear beautiful, and that they may inherit in

obscure portion of being. For they so far partake of essence as they

participate of beauty, consisting in form: and by how much the more

they receive of this kind of beauty, so much the more of perfection do

they inherit: for by this means a beautiful essence, and beauty itself

is more peculiar to their nature.

On this account Jupiter himself, who is the most ancient of the other

gods which he leads, proceeds first to the contemplation of the

intelligible world. But afterwards the subordinate gods, demons, and

souls follow him, who are able to perceive such transcendently lucid

objects. And this divine world shines upon them, from a certain occult

place, which is no other than the abode of ineffable unity. But it

illustrates all the divinities with its light: and excites to itself

superior souls who are afterwards converted to its splendid vision,

which before they were incapable of perceiving; and which like the sun

dazzles the eye unaccustomed to intellectual light. And while some with

elevated eyes, easily bear its intuition, others who are more distant

from its nature are disturbed with the vision. But since each of these

blessed inhabitants, perceives according to his ability, all of them

indeed behold this intelligible world, with its various contents, yet

they do not all retain the same spectacle, but while they are lost in

attentive vision, one beholds the lucid fountain and nature of the just

itself, while another abundantly perceives temperance itself, but not

such as that which resides with men, when they enjoy its possession.

For this our temperance imitates the supreme: but that diffusing

itself in all things, as if about all the magnitude of its nature, is

finally perceived by those, who have already beheld many perspicuous

spectacles. On this account the gods behold every thing separate, and

at the same time all things together: they perceive too divine souls

there, whose vision is universal; and their nature becomes such from

unbounded perception, that they contain all things from the beginning

to the end.

These divine objects therefore, Jupiter himself and those of us

who together with Jupiter love this intelligible world, happily

contemplate, together with that universal beauty shining from all, and

whatever participates of the beauty, which there abides. For every

thing there glitters, and illuminates the spectators with its light,

so that they become beautiful by its lustre: just as it happens to

those who ascend the highest mountains, where the earth is yellow:

for they are immediately infected with the colour, and become similar

to the earth, to which they ascend. But the colour which flourishes

in the divine world is beauty itself; or rather every thing there is

wholly colour, and profound beauty. For beauty there, is not like

that which flourishes in the superficies of bodies: but among those

who do not perceive the whole, that alone which is resplendent in

the superficies is considered as beauty. But those who are totally

filled with the intoxicating nectar of divine contemplation, since

beauty diffuses itself through every part of their souls do not become

spectators alone. For in this case the spectator is no longer external

to the spectacle: but he who acutely perceives, contains the object

of his perception in the depths of his own essence; though while

possessing, he is often ignorant that he possesses. For he who beholds

any thing as external, beholds it as something visible, and because he

wishes to perceive it attended with distance. But whatever is beheld

as _perceptible_, is beheld externally: but it is requisite we

should transfer the divine spectacle into ourselves, and, behold it

as one, and as the same with our essence: just as if any one hurried

away by the vigorous impulse of some god, whether Apollo or one of the

Muses, should procure in himself the intuition of the god; since in

the secret recesses of his own essence, he will behold the divinity

himself. But if any one of us who is not able to perceive himself

entirely comprehended by this divinity, should produce a spectacle into

his view, for the purpose of assisting his vision, he should produce

himself; and he will then perceive an image of the intelligible world,

now become more beautiful and divine. But afterwards neglecting the

image although beautiful, and conspiring with himself into one, and no

longer separating his essence, he will become _one all_ together

with that deity, who silently flows into his soul; and he will be

present with him as far as he is able, and as much as he desires. But

if he should return from this divine union into two, and is in the

mean time pure, he will nevertheless dwell proximate to its essence;

so that by conversion, he may again be present and become united with

his divinity. But the gain of the soul will consist in this ineffable

conversion. Indeed, when it first attempts this union, it perceives

itself, as long as it is different from the god: but when it has

penetrated into its most intimate recesses, it will then find itself

in possession of the intelligible universe; and casting sense behind,

fearing lest it should become different, it will be one with this

divine world. And if it desires to perceive as something different, it

will place itself external to its object. But it is requisite that the

soul which is about to perceive a divinity of this kind, should possess

a certain figure of his nature, and assiduously persevere, while it

endeavours perspicuously to know him; and thus well understanding the

importance of its pursuit, and trusting it is about to enter on the

most blessed vision, should profoundly merge itself in contemplation,

till instead of a spectator, it may become another specimen of the

object of its intuition; such as it came from thence, abundantly

shining with intellectual conceptions. But how can any one reside in

the beautiful itself, unless he perceives it? Indeed, if he perceives

it as something different, he will not as yet abide in beauty. But

becoming beautiful, he will thus especially exist in beauty. If then

vision is directed to something external, it is not proper that vision

should be there, or if it is it should become one with the object of

perception. But a doubt of this kind is like a certain consciousness

of some one fearing, lest if he wished to perceive more vehemently, he

should depart from himself. For thus disease more vehemently impels

and excites our sensation: but health dwelling with us more quietly,

exhibits a truer knowledge of itself, since it is present with silence

and tranquillity, as something familiar and allied to us; and conspires

into one with our composition. On the contrary disease possesses

nothing domestic, but is entirely foreign from our nature; and hence

its presence is more manifest on account of its diversity: but such

things as are peculiarly our own, are present with us, without any

manifest sensation. So that when we are in this condition, we are then

most of all known to ourselves; since our science in this case is one

and the same with our essence. Hence, in the divine world, when we

are most knowing according to intellect, we appear to be ignorant,

expecting the passion of sense, which says it does not perceive; nor

indeed does it see; nor can it ever attain to the intuition of such

exalted objects. That which distrusts its vision then is sense: but it

is something else which perceives. And if this too should doubt, it

is no longer its true self. For neither can this last when it places

itself externally, behold that which is intelligible, as if it were

sensible, and to be seen with corporeal eyes.

But it has been shewn how the soul may be able to accomplish this as

different from its object, and how when the same. But what will the

perceiver relate whether abiding as different, or the same? He will

tell that he saw this god, who is the same with the intelligible world,

generating a beautiful son, and producing all things in his essence

without any labour and fatigue. For this deity being delighted with

his work, and loving his progeny, continues and connects all things

with himself, pleased both with himself, and with the splendors his

offspring exhibit. But since all these are beautiful, and those which

remain within are still more beautiful, Jupiter the son of intellect

alone shines forth externally, proceeding from the splendid retreats

of his father. From which last son, we may behold as in an image, the

greatness of his fire, and of his brethren those divine ideas, who

abide in occult union with their father. But this ultimate progeny does

not affirm in vain, that he proceeds from his parent intellect: for he

is another world, proceeding from this first, and becoming beautiful,

like an image of beauty. For it is not lawful that the image of beauty

and of essence, should not be beautiful. Hence, he in every respect

imitates his exemplars. For he possesses life, and the gift of essence

as a certain imitation of stable essence, and life ever vigilant: he

possesses also beauty, so far as he proceeds from thence; and perpetual

duration, as a moving image of the eternity of intellect abiding

in one: for if this is not admitted, he would at one time exhibit

his image and not at another. But he is not an image fabricated by

art; and every image formed by nature, lasts as long as its exemplar

endures. Hence they do not conceive rightly, who think this world may

be destroyed, that which is divine remaining in the full perfection of

its essence, and thus imagine the world generated, and that its author

on a certain time consulted concerning its production. Such as these

indeed neither wish to understand, nor are at all acquainted with the

mode of its formation, and are ignorant that so long as the splendors

of that divine world endure, so long will this visible universe beam

from thence, and will never be destroyed, since the original of each is

the same. But the intelligible world always was, and always will be:

appellations of this kind being adopted from necessity, for the purpose

of conveying the conceptions of our minds.

Saturn, therefore, who according to poetical fable is feigned bound,

because he always perseveres in the same divine energies of his nature:

who is also reported to have delivered the government of this universe

to his son Jupiter (for it was not proper that he having dismissed his

government, should follow a nature junior and posterior to himself,

since he comprehends in himself the plentitude of all beauty.) Saturn,

I say, omitting all subordinate natures established in himself his

father Cælum, and raised himself on high as far as to this ineffable

principle. He likewise established succeeding natures originated

posterior to him, from his son. And thus he possesses a middle

situation between both, through a diversity of section from that which

is above him, and from his abstaining from inferior concerns, while he

is fabled by a subordinate care to be bound in chains; thus obtaining a

middle situation between his greater father, and his inferior son. But

since his father Cælum, is something greater than beauty, hence Saturn

or intellect is the first beauty, though soul is likewise beautiful:

yet intellect is more beautiful than soul, because soul is only its

vestige; and is naturally beautiful through this, though it is far more

beautiful when it beholds the perfect nature of intellect. If then the

soul of the universe (that we may use words more generally known),

and Venus herself is beautiful, what must be the beauty of intellect?

For if soul and Venus possess this from themselves, how great must

be the splendor of intellect? But if from another, from whom does

soul possess the beauty as well acceding, as natural to her essence?

Indeed, whenever we are beautiful, we become so from the possession of

our own nature alone: but we are base, when we are precipitated into

an inferior nature. So that we are beautiful when we know, but base

when we are ignorant of ourselves. Beauty, therefore, shines in Saturn

or intellect, with primary splendors. But are these considerations

sufficient to a knowledge of the divine world the intelligible place?

Or must we proceed another way in its investigation?”

And thus much for the doctrine of Plotinus, as delivered by him in

the two preceding inestimable books. I shall only add the following

observations concerning the Platonic triad of principles, as conceived

and illustrated by this extraordinary man, and some reflections

concerning the Christian trinity, with which I shall take my leave of

Plotinus.

According to Plotinus then, as the divinely solitary principle of

things is perfectly simple, it necessarily follows that he must be

perfectly sufficient, and perpetually exuberant. Hence, he must be

a producing cause; and that which he first produces, must be the

most similar of all things to himself. And this is no other than

intellect, or the intelligible world, the nature of which has been

so divinely explained by this philosopher, in the preceding book.

Now this intelligible world on account of its perfect similitude

to the one, contains all multitude in occult and indistant union:

for it is requisite that multitude should exist occultly, before it

is scattered abroad and diffused into separate forms; and that it

should be concealed in the profound recesses of intellect, before it

emerges into the diffused splendors of multitude perfectly divided and

discreet. Just as the duad is posterior to unity, and contains number,

without being perfect number itself. But as it is necessary that this

occult multitude, should be perfectly diffused, in order to the actual

diversity of things, and the existence of the sensible world, hence a

third procession originates, in which multitude no longer subsists in

indivisible union, but proceeds from the sanctuary of intellect into

absolute diversity and separation. And this third principle is no other

than soul, which expands the impartibility of intellect, and unfolds

all that was involved in the unity of intellectual perception. Now,

besides these, there can be no other principles: for after the cause

by which multitude is perfectly evolved, nothing but the gradation

and diversities of multitude can subsist. Hence, as Plotinus justly

observes[66], “we ought not to entertain any other principles, but

having established the _simple good_ as first, we should place the

supreme intellect as the next, and then the universal soul as the third

in descent. For this is the proper order according to nature, neither

to make more, nor less intelligibles than these three. For he who

contracts the number of these, must of necessity either suppose soul,

and intellect to be the same, or else intellect and the first good.

But that all these three are different from each other we have often

asserted and proved.”

It must here, however, be observed, as Dr. Cudworth justly

remarks[67], that this third hypostasis or principle, is not the

immediate soul of the world (according to Plotinus, and the best of

the Platonists) but ψυχὴ ὑπερκόσμιος, a super-mundane soul. For thus

Proclus plainly asserts[68], not only of Amelius, but also of Porphyry,

who followed Plotinus in this particular. “After Amelius, Porphyry,

thinking to agree with Plotinus, calls the super-mundane soul, the

demiurgus of the world, and that intellect to which it is converted

not the demiurgus, but the paradigm of the world.” Indeed, this

super-mundane soul must be too nearly allied to the supreme intellect,

to become the immediate animating principle of the world; and as the

gradation of things throughout the universe, subsists by the most

gentle and easy declension, the descent would be precipitate, to make

the highest soul connected with the mundane body. Besides as multitude

subsists retired and concealed in the supreme intellect, such an

intellect cannot be the artificer of the world, since all forms reside

there in stable and indivisible union: but a procession and extension

of these forms is requisite to the production of the visible universe.

And as every cause is superior to its effect, and as the mundane soul

must be connate with the world, hence the demiurgus of the world, must

be superior to the mundane soul.

Such then is the Platonic triad, composed from three distinct, and

different principles; and having no similitude except in name, to

the trinity of the Christian faith, as established by _law_. The

Platonic philosophers indeed took a bold flight, for they soared to the

principle of things, and drew abundantly from the ineffable and eternal

fountain of good: but they never rose so high as to discover that

the three persons of their triad were identically one. As men merely

assisted by the illuminations of intellect, they saw the necessity of

three principles, to the existence of the universe, but they had not

yet penetrated the awful veil of the most mystic theology, and beheld

the triple deity, seated on the tremendous throne of _unintelligible_

faith. They were capable of demonstrating that the principle of all

was perfectly _simple_ and _one_: but their eyes were not acute enough

to survey the _triplicity_ of the _one_. Had they but been blest with

the _light_ of the moderns, what wonders would have opened to their

view! They would then have understood the trinity in unity, and the

godhead in the manhood, absurdity involved in mystery, and mystery in

absurdity. In short, they would have discovered, that the supreme so

far from being separate from multitude, and superior to essence itself,

as they fondly imagined, took upon himself the actual form of a man,

that he might enlighten the vilest and most obscure of mankind, and

that by suffering an ignominious death, he might appease his own wrath,

and satisfy the vengeance of his injured deity. However, an impartial

reader must confess, that considering their ignorance of these sublime

particulars, their discoveries were admirable and profound; and a

sagacious modern will doubtless rejoice to find that they believed in a

god, who was the principle of things, though at the same time they were

so blind, as not to perceive that like _Cerberus_ he was triple!