Chapter XI: Book IV (5)

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.