Chapter XIII: Section II (1)

Porphyry the favourite disciple of Plotinus next demands our attention: but unfortunately we have scarcely any other particulars of his life, worthy our attention, than those we have already delivered in the history of Plotinus. I shall, therefore, only add, that he was born at Tyre, in the twelfth year of the emperor Alexander Severus, and of Christ 233; and that he died at Rome more than seventy years old, in the latter part of the emperor Dioclesian’s reign. Of his great abilities we have already given ample testimony: it now remains that we shew how much he contributed to the restoration and perfection of the Platonic theology. We are informed by Proclus[69], that it was usual with Plato, and his most genuine associates, to call all beings, by the appellation of intellect. “Hence (says he), in many places they establish _the good intellect, and soul_, as the three principles of things, calling intellect _every being_.” Now this was eminently the case with Plotinus, who in intellect or the intelligible world, comprehends all the intelligible gods, all true beings, and the multiform variety of ideas. Hence, he was more anxiously employed in profoundly investigating the nature of this divine world, than in scientifically unfolding the order of the beings it contains. Indeed, his genius on every subject was more adapted to an intimate perception of the occult essence of a thing, than to explaining its gradual evolution, and describing the mode of its participations. However, though he did not prosecute the more particular processions of divinity himself, yet he took care to insert the principles of this sublime investigation, in his writings; and to lay the foundation of that admirable and beautiful system, which was gradually revealed by succeeding Platonists, and at last received its ultimate perfection, by the subtile and elegant genius of Proclus.

Porphyry, however, appears to have been the first who wrote any thing explicitly on this interesting subject. “For he composed (says Proclus[70]) a treatise concerning principles, in which he demonstrates by many and beautiful reasons, that intellect is indeed eternal, but that it contains in itself something more ancient than intellect, which is conjoined with the one.” Now this something which is more ancient than intellect, but inferior to the one itself, can be nothing else than an Henad, or posterior monad; and if so there must be an order of Henades prior to that of intellects, which is most beautifully and copiously proved by Proclus, in his books on Plato’s Theology, and is demonstrated in the following theological institutions. But that this was likewise the doctrine of Plotinus is plain from his own words[71]. “It is necessary (says he) that the principle and cause of intellect, and the deity himself, should be present with the soul; and that this supreme principle should be present, not in any divisible manner, but perfectly stable, not indeed in place, but in himself. And, in the mean time, he must be considered in each of the natures capable of receiving him, as something different from their essence, just as the centre also abides in itself. But every line in the circle terminates its point in the centre, to which it tends. And by something analogous to this, which our essence contains, we also may touch, coalesce, and be conjoined with the supreme.” Hence it appears how egregiously Dr. Cudworth[72] is mistaken, in asserting that the doctrine of the Henades, was a figment of the Platonists posterior to Plotinus: for if they are the summits of our souls, and intellects, they must likewise be the very flowers, as it were, of universal souls and universal intellects.

As the most valuable of Porphyry’s works are unfortunately lost, and this most probably through the malice of sectaries, and the unjust interposition of regal authority, we can scarcely give any other proof of his great contributions to the advancement of the theology, than by enumerating his writings on this occasion. And in the first place, next to the two books on principles which we have already mentioned, his treatise, _Concerning the Philosophy from Oracles_, merits our attention. In this curious and valuable work (as we are informed by Eusebius[73]) he collects, a variety of the answers, as well of Apollo, as of other deities, and beneficient dæmons: proving by this means the virtue of theology, and promoting _theosophy_, or the study of divine wisdom.

2. In the next place, we may deservedly rank his _Explanation of many of Plotinus’s Books_ (according to the testimony of Eunapius.) For surely nothing could more contribute to the restoration of this theology, than a commentary on the writings of him who first uncovered its veil, and happily penetrated into the mysteries it contains.

3. To these succeed his _Commentaries on the Timæus of Plato_, which are every where cited by Proclus, with the praise they doubtless deserved. Indeed, if we consider the sanctity of Porphyry’s genius, his great abilities, and universal attainments, we cannot sufficiently regret the loss of his writings on a dialogue which has ever been esteemed uncommonly abstruse, and replete with the most mystical theology.

4. _Concerning the divine Names._ This work is mentioned by Suidas, and promises by its title, to have been an inestimable treasury of recondite wisdom.

5. _Concerning the Allegories of the Grecian and Egyptian Theology._ How much Porphyry, excelled in works of this kind, is sufficiently evident from his explanation of the Cave of the Nymphs in Homer, which is fortunately preserved; and the translation of which in the following pages, will both adorn the present history, and, I doubt not, be acceptable to the reader.

6. _On the Regress or Re-ascent of the Soul._ The design of this excellent work, as we are informed by St. Augustin, who often cites it, in his City of God[74], was to admonish us, that we should fly from all body, that the soul may abide in felicity with the deity. According to the same Augustin too, in this book there was a copious discourse concerning the purgation of the soul by the _theurgic_ art, which we cannot wonder this _reverend father_ should both ridicule and disclaim: for how can the faith of a _bishop_ agree with the dogmata of a _philosopher_? But it is here necessary to inform the reader that the theurgical art, explained and recommended by Porphyry in this treatise, consists in purifying the imaginative spirit or vehicle of the soul, which according to its various condition either elevates the soul to a superior state, or draws it down into the darkest recesses of the earth. Lucas Holstenius in his account of the life and writings of Porphyry, is very diffuse in relating and defending the opinions of Augustin on this particular, but takes no notice of the Platonic Synesius[75], who in his admirable book on dreams, speaks so appositely and fully on this most interesting subject, that I cannot refrain from presenting the English reader with a translation of his doctrine concerning this phantastic spirit, or as he calls it spiritual soul. “In what the disease (says he) of this spirit consists, by what means it languishes and is dulled, and how it becomes purified and defecated, and restored to its natural simplicity and perfection, must be learned from the arcana of philosophy; from which being purified by the lustrations of mysteries it passes into a divine condition of being. But it is requisite to banish all influxions externally, before the phantastic spirit can superinduce the divinity. And whoever preserves it pure by a life according to nature, will render it prompt for this most exalted employment. For this spirit understands the affection of the soul, and is not destitute of sympathy towards it, like its testaceous vestment the body, which has a condition opposite to the more excellent affections of the soul. But the primary and proper vehicle of this phantastic spirit, when the soul is in a flourishing condition, is attenuated and etherial: but when the soul is badly affected, then this vehicle is dulled, and becomes terrene. For this phantastic spirit is situated in the confines of the rational and brutal nature, is of an incorporeal and corporeal degree; and is the common boundary of both, and the medium which conjoins divine natures with the lowest of all. On this account it is difficult to comprehend its nature by philosophy: for it collects that which accords with itself, as it were from neighbouring natures, and from the extremes of each; and comprehends in one essence things separated by so great an interval from its own. But nature extends the latitude of a phantastic essence, through many conditions of things: for it descends even to animals to whom intellect is not present. In this case, however, it is no longer the vehicle of a diviner soul, but presides over its subject powers, becomes the reason of the animal with which it is connected, and is the occasion of its acting with much wisdom and propriety.

“But this phantastic spirit may be even purified in brutes, so that something better may be induced; and all the genera of dæmons derive their essence from a life of this kind, for their whole essence is composed from the phantasy, and from inward imaginations. But many of the energies of the human nature consist from this alone, or if from something else, yet this prevails the most: for we are not accustomed to cogitate without imagination, unless some one should perhaps for a moment be able to pass into contact with an immaterial form. But to transcend the phantasy in rational energies, is not less difficult than blessed. Hence (says Plato) the possession of intellect and wisdom in old age is desirable above all things, signifying by this, intelligence shining without imagination; because intelligence when conversant with a common life, belongs to the phantasy, or at least to an intellect energizing through the medium of the phantasy. Hence too, this animal spirit which divine men have denominated the spiritual soul, becomes a god, and an omniform dæmon, and an image, in which the soul suffers the punishment of its guilt. And in conformity with this the oracles also compare the life of the soul in this animal spirit to the imaginations of dreams. Philosophy too, agrees in asserting, that preceding lives are certain preparations to those in a subsequent order, while the possession of the best habit in souls renders this spirit more adapted to elevation, and wipes away the profound stains of a baser affection. Hence by natural allurements, this spirit is either elevated on high, on account of its heat and dryness, which Plato signifies by the wings of the soul, and Heraclitus when he says, _that a dry soul is the wisest_: or becoming bulky and humid, it merges itself in the recesses of the earth by a natural gravity; and is thus concealed in darkness, and hurled into a subterranean region[76]. For a place of this kind is peculiarly adapted to humid spirits; and the life there is unhappy, and obnoxious to punishment. It is however possible by labour and time, and a transition into other lives, for the imaginative soul when purified, to emerge from this dark abode: for it passes its course through lives of a two-fold nature; and alternately approaches to superior and subordinate conditions of being.

“But the soul in its first descent, derives this spirit from the planetary spheres, and entering this as a boat associates itself with the corporeal world, earnestly contending that it may either at the same time draw this spirit after it, in its flight, or that they may not abide in conjunction. Indeed it is rarely though possible to be accomplished, that the one deserts the other in descending to the earth: for it is unlawful not to believe in mysteries of known credibility and truth. But the souls’ regression will be base, if she neglects to restore, that which is foreign from her nature, and leaves about the earth, what she had received from on high. And this indeed one or two may obtain as a gift of divinity and initiation. For it is instituted by nature, that the soul, once seated in this phantastic spirit, should either follow, or draw, or be drawn, yet so as to remain copulated with this spirit, till it again ascends from whence it came. Hence when on account of its depravity this spirit grows heavy, at the same time, it draws down the soul, which had yielded to its gravitation. And the dread of this is what the oracles announce to our intellectual conceptions, when they advise: _Nor decline beneath, into the obscure world, whose depth is always an unfaithful bottom, and an infernal darkness, squalid, rejoicing in shadows, and full of stupidity and folly_. For how can a stupid and foolish life be expedient to intellect? But the inferior region, accords with the image, or spiritual soul, on account of an affection of spirit corresponding with such a place: for like rejoices in like.

“On this account, if by conjunction, one is produced from the two, intellect also will be merged in pleasure. But the extremity of all evils consists in not perceiving the present evil: for this belongs to such as have no desire to emerge, but like those whose skin is hardened by disease, as they are no longer tormented with pain, so neither are they anxious to be cured. Hence penitence possesses a peculiar power of re-elevating the soul. For he who endures his present state with sorrow and remorse, will meditate his flight: _and the will is the greatest part of purgation_. Indeed through the means of this both our deeds and discourses extend their hands to assist us in our ascent: but this being taken away the soul is deprived of every purifying machine, because destitute of assent, which is the greatest pledge of reconciliation. Hence both here and elsewhere, punishments bring with them the greatest utility to the order of things, while they oppose molestation to delight, and banish stupid pleasure from the soul. Misfortunes too, which are said to happen contrary to our deserts, are of the greatest advantage in extirpating the affections by which we are captivated with externals: and thus the doctrine of a providence is confirmed to the intelligent, from the very circumstances which produce diffidence in the ignorant. For no place would be left for the soul to take her flight from the dominion of matter, if in the present state she lived free from the incursions of evil: and hence it is proper to believe, that the præfects of the infernal regions have invented vulgar prosperities, as the snares of the soul. It may therefore be said that souls emigrating from hence drink of oblivion: but the cup of oblivion is extended to souls entering into the present life, by pleasure and delight. For when the soul descends spontaneously to its former life, with mercenary views, it receives servitude as the reward of its mercenary labours. But this is the design of descent, that the soul may accomplish a certain servitude to the nature of the universe, prescribed by the laws of Adrastia, or inevitable fate. Hence when the soul is fascinated with material endowments, she is similarly affected to those, who though free born, are for a certain time hired by wages to employment, and in this condition captivated with the beauty of some female servant, determine to act in a menial capacity under the master of their beloved object. Thus in a similar manner, when we are profoundly delighted, with external, and corporeal goods, we confess that the nature of matter is beautiful, who marks our assent in her secret book: and if considering ourselves as free we at any time determine to depart, she proclaims us deserters, endeavours to bring us back, and openly presenting her mystic volume to the view, apprehends us as fugitives from our mistress. Then indeed the soul particularly requires fortitude, and divine assistance, as it is no trifling contest, to abrogate the confession and compact which she made. Besides in this case, force will be employed: for the material inflicters of punishments will then be roused to revenge, by the decrees of fate, against the rebels to her laws. And this is what the _sacred discourses_ (ἱεροὶ λόγοι)[77] testify by the labours of Hercules, and the dangers which Hercules was required to endure; and which every one must experience who bravely contends for liberty, till the phantastic spirit becomes superior to the dominion of nature, and is placed beyond the reach of her hands.

“But if this leap from matter should happen within the boundaries of nature, the soul will be depressed, and require more weighty contests: for matter now fully convinced that we are fugitives, will not be sparing of punishment; and though we may despair of our ascent, she will chastize us for the endeavour, and no longer propose our choice of living from two urns, which Homer occultly intimates are two portions of matter. And Jupiter himself in this place, according to the same divine poet, is the moderator of matter, distributing a two-fold condition of fate; from which good is never found sincere, and without a mixture of evil, though it is possible that some unfortunate being may participate of the worse condition without any portion of good.

“In short all lives are conversant with the fluctuations of error, when the soul does not speedily return, after its first descent. But consider with how great an interval, this spirit energizes in our nature: for when the soul is inclined downwards, _the spirit also (according to the sacred discourse) grows heavy, and sinks, till it falls into a region profoundly dark: but when the soul rises from this obscurity, the phantastic spirit also attends it, as far as it is able to follow_. And it will attend, till the soul arrives at a condition of being the most opposite from its nature. Hear too, what the oracles declare on this occasion. _Nor should you leave the most abject part[78] in the precipice of matter: for there is a place for the image in the region every where resplendent with light._ But this place is opposed to the region totally dark; and to him who acutely perceives, a still deeper meaning will be found in the words. For the oracle not only seems to recal into the spheres, the nature which had proceeded from thence, but also intimates that whatever of sublime fire or air, the soul descending from on high, had attracted into a phantastic essence, before she was invested with this terrene bark, must be elevated together with the more exalted part. For the dregs of matter, or the most abject part, cannot signify a divine body. But reason dictates that things which communicate, and conspire in unity, cannot be destitute of mutual relation, and connection with each other, particularly when the places of their residence have a kindred position: as fire is proximate to an orbicular body, and does not like the earth possess the extremity of things.

“Again, if better natures yielding to the subordinate, should at any time unite in conjunction with these, they would produce in matter an indissoluble body, from their superior dominion: and in this case perhaps, the baser nature, no longer opposing the energy of the soul, but becoming gentle, obedient, and obsequious, and exhibiting the middle nature of the phantastic spirit without dissipation, may become etherial together with the dominion of the rational soul; may be the attendant of its elevation; and may ascend if not to the summit of all, at least to the extremity of the elements, and arrive at the region in every part lucid, and divine. For it possesses says the Oracle a certain place in this region; i.e. it is received into a certain order of an orbicular body. And thus much may suffice, concerning the parts and condition of the elements, which the reader may either believe, or reject as he pleases.

“But it cannot be denied that the corporeal essence of the phantastic spirit, when arrived at this place, is at the same time elevated with the returning soul, and adapted to the spheres; or in other words it is brought back to its proper nature and pristine condition. These two regions, therefore, are situated in perfect opposition to each other: the one profoundly obscure, but the other every way lucid, obtaining the extremities[79] of felicity and misery. But how many middle regions do you think are situated in the concave space of this mundane orb, partly lucid, and partly dark, in all which the soul lives, with this phantastic spirit, and alternately changes its forms, and manners, and life? When, therefore, it returns to its proper nobility, it becomes the storehouse of truth: for it is then pure and pellucid, and perfectly immaculate; and has power, if willing, to become a god and a prophet. But when it falls from this elevation, it becomes dark, erratic, and fictitious: for the obscurity of the spirit, cannot perceive the perspicuity of true beings. Lastly, when it possesses a middle situation, it partly wanders, and partly pursues the truth. You may also by this means, explore a demoniacal nature, and its order: for to pursue truth entirely, or to wander but a little from its contemplation, is divine, or nearly divine. But a condition of being, erroneous in predictions, necessarily belongs to such as are assiduously inclined to nature, who are obnoxious to passion, and perfectly ambitious: for by this means such a condition becomes subterranean[80], and forsakes divinity, and its more ancient dæmon; though by a contrary mode of proceeding it may resume its pristine associations, and occupy the place prepared for a more excellent nature.

“And from hence we may apprehend the state of the soul while connected with the present body: for he whose phantastic spirit, is pure and composed, and who, both waking, and sleeping, receives true resemblances of things, he indeed, possesses a token that the figure of his soul will pass into a better condition of being. Nor is the judgment trifling which we may form respecting the affection of the animal spirit, from the imaginations which it principally produces, and in which it is employed, when free from external pulsation; philosophy supplying us with judgment and admonition, respecting its nutriment, and the diligent care we should employ to prevent its deviation from the right. But its best education, consists in always energizing according to an intuitive and perceptive power, and in taking care that the principal energy of the soul is always intellectual; and that as much as possible we always pre-occupy the absurd and rash impetuosities of the phantasy. But this is no other than a conversion of the soul to that which is best, and forsaking all communion with an inferior nature, except what the strongest necessity compels us to adopt. But an intellectual perception above all things separates, whatever is contrary to the true purity of the phantastic spirit: for it attenuates this spirit in an occult and ineffable manner, and extends it to divinity. And when it becomes adapted to this exalted energy, it draws by a certain affinity of nature, _a divine spirit_, into conjunction with the soul: as on the contrary when it is so contracted and diminished by condensation, that it cannot fill the ventricles of the brain, which are the seats assigned to it by providence, then, nature not enduring a vacuum, _an evil spirit_ is insinuated in the place of one divine. And what will not the soul suffer, when assiduously pressed by such an execrable evil? For such is the constitution of things, that the regions of the phantastic spirit must either be filled with a superior or subordinate nature: but the latter is the punishment of the impious, who defile the divine part of their essence; and the former is either the end of piety, of proximate to the end.” Thus far the excellent Synesius, who, I doubt not, was greatly indebted to Porphyry’s book on the regress of the soul, for this admirable discourse; as it is evidently pregnant with the most recondite theology. But let us consider this interesting subject more minutely.

Though the theurgical art is unfortunately lost, by means of which we might obtain the best method of purifying the phantastic spirit; yet we must not suppose that it is utterly impossible to accomplish this desirable end, without its assistance. Synesius in the preceding beautiful quotation informs us, “that an intellectual perception attenuates this spirit, in an occult and ineffable manner, and extends it to divinity.” Indeed, nothing can so effectually contribute to separate the phantasy from this terrene body, as a continual intellectual illumination. Now this can only be acquired by long habits of meditation, accompanied with a vehement thirst after truth, which gradually withdraw the soul from sensible perturbations, produce the contemplative virtues, and dispel the darkness of corporeal imaginations. Science, indeed, is the first requisite in acquiring this purification of the phantasy, I mean the mathematical science; by whose assistance, we first recognize the glimmerings of truth, and discover the dawning beams of intellect emerging, as it were, from the night of oblivion. When the liberal soul first discovers this light, though but feeble and transient, she rejoices at the happy event, and is anxious to procure its continuance and increase. She now despises outward corporeal form, and becomes deeply enamoured with those purer forms in the phantasy, which she has found to be the receptacles of truth. And this is the first degree of purification. But after this if by a fortunate event, from contemplating universals in imaginative figures, she should rise to speculate their subsistence in cogitation, and in the rational soul, she will then discover a much brighter light; though even this will not be constant and serene: for it will be present only when she is deeply engaged in such _middle contemplations_. Indeed, as cogitation is the medium between sense and intellect, so the light attending its energies, has a middle subsistence between the obscurity of the former, and the invariable splendors of the latter. This light, however, will so purify the phantastic spirit, that all its images will possess a considerable degree of perspicuity and lustre. There now remains only the third step, in order to produce the perfection of purity, and to conjoin the phantasy with divinity: and this is no other than an intimate conversion of the soul to the energies of intellect. For by a long and vigorous exercise of this kind, a constant and ineffable light will continually illuminate the phantasy, so as to render all its images pure and pellucid, and perfectly abolish the obscurity of sensible impressions. We may add too, as a symbol of this exalted purgation, that a perpetual serenity, unceasing delight, and occasional rapture will be produced in the soul. The _will_, now entirely free will be intimately converted to that which is best; the desires will breathe nothing but the ardour of intellectual energy; and the passions will no longer be at variance with reason. In this delightful state, the vehicle of the phantastic spirit will become so attenuated and etherial, that all sensible harmony will waken the soul to an immediate recollection of ideal harmony; all external figures will recall to her memory ideal form; and all lucid bodies will represent with advantage to her inward eye the brighter light reflected in the mirror of imagination. Indeed, sensible light, will be found to possess a remarkable sympathy with this purer light of the soul. For when this intellectual splendor is firmly introduced, and illuminates every part of the phantasy, the smallest spark, and the most glimmering ray of external light, will call forth into energy that sacred light, which is now perfectly seated in the sanctuary of the soul. Such too will be the temperament of the soul in this case, that she will spontaneously utter musical sounds, as indications of the harmony within; and as echoes of the perpetual felicity she enjoys. And such are the methods of acquiring, and such the tokens of possessing purity of imagination, which he who obtains will understand; but which will appear incomprehensible, and ridiculous to him, who is not advancing in its acquisition.

And here it may not be improper to observe, that the phantasy in this purified state, affords indubitable tokens of the possession of truth; and serves as an instrument by which we may discover false opinions from such as are true. For the images attending the perceptions of reality, will always be lucid; and this in proportion to the certainty they contain. Hence, whenever the soul is full, and as it were, pregnant with true conceptions, certain bright phantasms, as the progeny of her rational energies, will drop into the mirror of imagination, and appear like images clothed with light. For the phantasy will now no longer be similar to the dark and irriguous cavern of Calypso (which appears to be the emblem of imagination in an unpurified state), illuminated by sense as by an artificial fire; but it will be totally diaphanous and full of light. It will, indeed, in every respect resemble the palace of Ithaca, when enlightened by the golden lamp of Minerva, during the removal of the arms by Ulysses and Telemachus. Of which we may say with the greatest propriety:

Not such the sickly beams which unsincere,
Gild the gross vapour of this nether sphere[81].

And he who knows the truth of what I assert, may exclaim with rapture, like Telemachus:

What miracle thus dazzles with surprise!
Distinct in rows the radiant columns rise:
The walls where-e’er my wond’ring sight I turn,
And roofs amidst a blaze of glory burn!
Some visitant of pure etherial race,
With his bright presence deigns the dome to grace.

7. In the last place, we may deservedly rank among the theological writings of Porphyry, his treatise _Concerning the Cave of the Nymphs_, in the 13th book of the Odyssey. This admirable work is fortunately preserved: and as it contains some deep arcana of the natural and symbolical theology of the ancients, together with some beautiful observations respecting the allegory of Ulysses, I persuade myself the following paraphrased translation of this work, will be acceptable to the lovers of ancient learning and philosophy.

“[82]What are we to understand by the Cave, in the island of Ithaca, which Homer describes in the following verses?

High at the head a branching olive grows,
And crowns the pointed cliffs with shady boughs.
A cavern pleasant, though involv’d in night,
Beneath it lies, the Naiades delight.
Where bowls and urns, of workmanship divine,
And massy beams in native marble shine;
On which the Nymphs amazing webs display,
Of purple hue, and exquisite array.
The busy bees, within the urns secure
Honey delicious, and like nectar pure.
Perpetual waters thro’ the grotto glide,
A lofty gate unfolds on either side;
That to the north is pervious by mankind:
The sacred south t’ immortals is consign’d.

i.e. “an olive with spreading branches stands at the head of the Ithacensian port; and near it is a cave both pleasant and obscure, which is sacred to the nymphs who are called Naiades. Within the cavern, bowls and capacious amphora are formed from stone, in which the bees deposit their delicious honey. There are likewise within the cave long stony beams, on which the nymphs weave purple webs wonderful to the sight. Perpetual waters flow within the grotto. But there are two gates: one towards the north gives entrance to mortals descending: but the other towards the south which is more divine, is impervious to mankind; and alone affords a passage to ascending immortals.”

That the poet does not describe this cave according to truth, is evident from hence, says Cronius, that none of those who have handed down to us the situation of that island make any mention of such a cave. This likewise, says he, is manifest, that it would be very absurd for a mortal man, such as Homer, to expect, that in describing a cave fabricated merely by poetical licence, and thus arbitrarily opening by a new art a path to gods and men in the region of Ithaca, he should gain the belief of mankind. It is equally as absurd to suppose, that nature herself should point out in this place, one path for the descent of all mankind, and again another path for all the gods. For indeed the whole world is full of gods and men; but it is impossible to be persuaded that in the Ithacensian cave men descend, and gods ascend. Cronius, having promised thus much, affirms that it was evident not only to the wise, but also to the vulgar and unlearned, that the poet under the veil of allegory, concealed some mysterious signification. But the investigation of the particular meaning of these gates, and of the cave of the nymphs, he leaves to others more disposed to such curious enquiries, as likewise why it is both pleasant and obscure; since darkness is by no means delightful, but is rather productive of aversion and horror. Also why it is not simply sacred to nymphs, but it is accurately added, which are called Naiads. Why likewise the cave is represented as containing bowls and urns, when no mention is made of their receiving any liquor, but the bees are said to deposit their honey in these vessels, as in hives? Then again, why are oblong beams placed here for the nymphs; and these not formed out of wood, or any other ductile matter, but from stone, as well as the bowls and urns? Which last circumstance is indeed less obscure; but that on these stony beams, the nymphs should weave purple garments, is wonderful not only to the sight, but to the auditory sense. For who would believe that goddesses weave garments in a cave involved in darkness, and on stony beams; especially while he hears the poet affirming that the purple webs of the goddesses were exposed to human inspection. Besides this too is wonderful, that the cave should have a double entrance; one prepared for the descent of men, the other for the ascent of gods. And again, that the gate pervious by men should look to the north, but the portal of the gods to the south. Since the reason of this distribution affords just matter for surprize and enquiry: and why an eastern and western situation was not preferred. For almost all temples have their entrance and statues towards the east: but those who enter them look towards the west, when standing with their faces turned to the statues they honour and worship the gods. Hence since this narration abounds with obscurities, it follows that it is neither a fable, rashly devised for the purpose of procuring delight, nor contains a true and certain description of a place: but that something is signified by the poet, under its obscure disguise; who likewise places, with a mystic intent, an olive at the entrance of the cave. All which particulars the ancients thought very laborious to investigate and explain, and we who succeed them are of the same opinion, while endeavouring from our own inventions to unfold the concealed meaning of the allegory. Hence those men appear to have written very negligently concerning the situation of the place, who believe both the cave and its contents, to be a mere poetical figment. But the best and most accurate writers of geography, and among these Artemidorus the Ephesian, in the fifth book of his work, which consists of eleven books, thus writes: “The island of Ithaca, containing an extent of 85 stadii[83], is distant from Panormus, a port of Cephalenia, about 12 stadii[84]. It has a port named Phorcys; in which there is a shore, and on that shore a cave sacred to the nymphs, in which the Phæacians are reported to have placed Ulysses.”

By no means therefore is this cave a mere Homerical figment. But whether the poet describes it according to its real nature, or adds something of his own invention, yet the same questions remain to be solved; whether you are disposed to investigate the intention of the poet, or of those who consecrated the cave. Since neither did the ancients consecrate temples without fabulous symbols; nor is it usual with Homer to relate any thing rashly concerning their peculiarities. For indeed, by how much the more any one endeavours to shew, that this description of the cave is not an Homeric fiction, but was consecrated to the gods, before Homer’s time; by so much the more he evinces, that this sacred cave is filled with ancient wisdom. On which account it is highly worthy our investigation, and necessary that its symbolical consecration and obscure mysteries should be rendered evident by the light of philosophical enquiry.

Antiquity then with great propriety consecrated caves and dens to the world, whether taken collectively as the universe, or separately according to its parts. Hence they considered earth as the symbol of that matter from which the world is composed; so that, according to the opinion of some, matter and earth are the same: by the symbol of a cave, signifying the formation of the world from matter. For indeed caves are most commonly spontaneous productions, congenial with the earth herself, and comprehended by one uniform stone; whose interior part is concave, and whose exterior parts are extended over an immense space of earth. But the world being self-born, (i.e. produced by no external cause but from a principle within,) and in perfect symphony with itself, is allied to matter which they call, according to a secret signification; a stone and a rock. For like these hard bodies it is sluggish and inert, and receives the impression of ornamenting form: at the same time they considered it as infinite on account of its formless nature. But since it is continually flowing, and of itself destitute of the supervening investments of species by which it is formed and becomes visible, the flowing waters, darkness, or, as the poet says, obscurity of the cavern exhibit apt symbols of what the world contains on account of that matter with which it is connected. Hence through the dark union of matter, the world is obscure and dark, but from the presence and supervening ornaments of form (from which it derives it name) it is beautiful and pleasant. The world therefore may with great propriety be called a cave; agreeable indeed, at its first entrance, on account of its participation of form, but involved in the deepest obscurity to the intellectual eye which endeavours to discern its dark foundation. So that its exterior and superficial parts are pleasant, but its interior and profound parts obscure: and its very bottom is darkness itself. After the same manner the Persians mystically signifying the descent of the soul into an inferior nature, and its ascent into the intelligible world, initiate the priest or mystic in a place which they denominate a cave. For according to Eubulus, Zoroaster first of all among the neighbouring mountains of Persia, consecrated a natural cave, florid and watered with fountains, in honour of Mithras the father of all things: a cave in the opinion of Zoroaster bearing a resemblance of the world fabricated by Mithras. But the things contained in the cavern, being disposed by certain intervals, according to symmetry and order, were symbols of the elements and climates of the world. We find too that after Zoroaster it was usual with others to perform initiatory rites in caves and dens, whether natural or artificial. For as they consecrated temples, groves, and altars to the celestial gods; but to the terrestrial gods and to heroes altars alone, and to the subterranean divinities vaults and cells; so to the world they dedicated caves and dens; as likewise to nymphs, on account of the waters trickling, and dispersed through caverns, in which the nymphs called Naiads, as we shall shortly observe, preside. But the ancients not only considered a cave as the symbol of this generated and sensible world, but as the representative of every invisible power: because as a cave is obscure and dark, so the essence of these powers is unknown. Hence Saturn fabricated a cave in the ocean itself, and concealed his children in its dark retreats. Thus Ceres educated Proserpine with her nymphs in a cave; and many other particulars of this kind may be found by any one who peruses the writings of Theologists. But that caves are attributed to nymphs, and especially to Naiads, who dwell near fountains, and are called Naiads from the waters over whose flowing streams they preside, the hymn to Apollo indicates in these words:

[85]“The nymphs residing in caves shall deduce fountains of intellectual waters to thee, (according to the divine voice of the Muses,) which are the progeny of a terrene spirit. Hence waters bursting through every river, shall exhibit to mankind perpetual effusions of sweet streams.” From hence as it appears to me the Pythagoreans, and after them Plato took occasion to call the world a cave and a den. For the powers which are the leaders and guides of souls thus speak in a verse of Empedocles.

“We will enter into this cave covered with rocks.”

And Plato in the seventh book of his Republic, speaking of the condition of mankind in this sensible world, says, “Behold men as if dwelling in a subterranean cavern, whose entrance opens through the whole cave to the admission of the light.” But when the other person in the dialogue says, you relate an absurd similitude, he subjoins: “It is requisite, friend Glaucus, to apply this similitude to all that has been previously said: assimilating this terrene habitation which is the object of corporeal fight, to the dark residence of a prison: but accomodating the fire shining in the recesses of the cavern to the solar light.” And thus it is sufficiently evident, that theologists have considered a cave as a symbol of the world, and of the powers it contains. But we observed that they likewise considered a cave as the symbol of an intelligible essence; led to this opinion by reasons very different from the former. For they placed it as a symbol of the sensible world, because caverns are dark, stony and humid; resembling in all these respects the world on account of the obscure nature of that matter from which it is composed, the continual impression of forms to which it is obnoxious, and the constant flowing of all its parts. But a cave resembles intelligible essence, both because invisible to the eyes and sense, and because its substance is solid, firm, and durable. And in the same manner particular virtues or powers are inconspicuous, especially such as are united with matter. For they did not consider a cave as the symbol of a material and immaterial nature on account of its figure as some have suspected: (since every cave is not circular as appears from this Homeric cavern with a double entrance) but from surveying the natural condition of caves, involved in the depths of obscurity and night, and formed from the union of a hard and stony substance. Again, since a cave has a two-fold similitude, it must agree in some particulars with sensible substance, but in others with an intelligible essence. Thus the present cave since it contains perpetual waters, in this respect resembles a substance united with matter, and not that which is immaterial and intelligible. On this account the cave is not sacred to mountain divinities, to those who dwell on hills, or to other deities of this kind, but to Naiads so called by the Greeks from νάματα, fountains; because they preside over waters: and this term is commonly applied to all souls passing into the humid and flowing condition of a generative nature. These souls they considered as incumbent on the water, which is nourished by a divine spirit as Numenius affirms: and hence a prophet said, _that the spirit of God moved on the waters_. The Egyptians likewise on this account place all dæmons, not connected with any thing solid or stable, but raised on a sailing vessel; and it is known that humor invades the sun itself, and all animals descending into generation. Hence Heraclitus observes “that it appears delightful, and not mortal to souls, when they are born connected with humidity.” And he says in another place, speaking of unembodied souls, “we live their death, and we die their life.” Hence the poet calls men existing in generation διερούς, i.e. humid, because their souls are drenched in moisture. On this account too, such souls delight in blood and humid seed: but water administers nutriment to the souls of plants. Besides, according to the opinions of some men aerial and celestial bodies, are nourished by the vapours of fountains and rivers and other exhalations. Thus the Stoics assert that the sun is nourished by the exhalation of the sea; the moon from the effluvia of fountains and rivers; but the stars from the exhalation of the earth. Hence according to them the sun is a certain intellectual composition formed from the sea; the moon from river waters; and the stars from terrene exhalations. It is necessary therefore that souls, whether they are corporeal or incorporeal, while they attract bodies, must verge to humidity, and be incorporated with humid natures; especially such souls, as from their material inclinations ought to be united with blood, and confined in humid bodies as in a watery tegument. Hence the souls of the dead are evocated by the effusion of bile and blood: and souls insnared by corporeal love, and attracting to their nature a humid spirit, condense this watery vehicle like a cloud; for a cloud is nothing more than humour condensed in the air. But the pneumatic part thus condensed, through too great an abundance of humour becomes the object of corporeal sight. And among the number of these we must reckon those apparitions of images, which from a spirit coloured by the influence of imagination, present themselves to mankind. But pure souls are averse from generation; on which account the same Heraclitus observes “a dry soul is the wisest.” But souls thus desiring to be mingled with body, and attracting a humid vapour, by their propensity to generation render their pneumatic part moist and wet, and by thus verging to the ever-flowing waters of generation, are deservedly called Naiads. Hence it is customary with the Greeks to call nymphs γαμουμένας, or married, as those who are copulated to generation; and to wash in a bath whose waters are derived from fountains or perpetual rills. This world then is sacred and pleasant to nymphs, i.e. to souls proceeding into a material nature, and to genii participating of generation, although it is naturally dark and opake; on which account some are of opinion that souls are composed from a certain aerial opacity. Hence a cave is a habitation peculiarly adapted to such souls; since it is both pleasant and obscure, like this material region, in which souls reside. A cave likewise through which perpetual waters flow is well adapted to nymphs, the divinities of waters. The present cave therefore must be allowed sacred to souls, and to those more particular powers denominated nymphs, who from their being præfects of rivers and fountains are called πεγαιαὶ and ναιδὲς, i.e. fountain and river divinities. What then are the different symbols, some of which correspond to souls, and others to the divinities of waters, by which it may be manifest that this cave is at the same time dedicated and consecrated to both? We reply that the stony bowls and urns are symbols of the aquatic nymphs. For vessels of the same form are symbols of Bacchus; but their composition is testaceous, that is, from baked earth. And indeed such as these are correspondent to the gift of this god; since the fruit of the vine is brought to a proper maturity by the celestial fire of the sun. But the stony bowls and urns, are most admirably accommodated to nymphs presiding over waters which flow from rocks. And what symbol is more proper to souls descending into generation, and the tenacious vestment of body, than as the poet says, “Nymphs weaving on stony beams purple garments wonderful to behold?” For the flesh is generated in and about the bones, which in the bodies of animals may be compared to stones. On which account these textorial instruments, are fabricated from stones alone. But the purple garments plainly appear to be the flesh with which we are invested; and which is woven as it were and grows by the connecting and vivifying power of the blood, diffused through every part. Besides, purple garments are tinged with the blood of animals; and flesh is produced and subsists from blood. Add too that the body is a garment with which the soul is invested; a circumstance indeed wonderful to the sight, whether we regard its composition, or consider the connecting band by which it is knit to the soul. Thus according to Orpheus, Proserpine who presides over every thing generated from seed, is represented weaving a web; and the ancients called heaven by the name of πέπλος, which is as it were the veil or tegument of the celestial gods. But why are the amphora represented filled with honey-combs, and not with water? For in these as he says the bees deposit their honey. But the word τιθαιβώσσειν, signifies nothing more than τιθέναι τὴν βόσιν, i.e. to deposit aliment. And honey is the nutriment of bees.

Indeed, theologists have made honey subservient to many and various symbols, because it is indued with a variety of powers: for it possesses a purging and preserving quality. Hence bodies are kept from putrefaction by its use, and ulcers of long standing are purified: besides it is sweet to the taste, and bees produced from putrid oxen, collect it by a wonderful art from flowers. On this account when in the sacred rites called λεοντικά, those who are initiated, pour honey instead of water on their hands, it is signified by this practice, that their hands should be pure from every sorrowful, noxious, and abominable concern. Thus, others purify the initiated by a purgatorial rite from fire, but are averse from water as the enemy of fire. Besides they purify the tongue from all the defilement of evil with honey. But when the Persians offer honey to the guardian of fruits, they regard its preserving power as a symbol of its similitude to divine nature. In like manner when the poet pours nectar and ambrosia into the nostrils of the slain, for the purpose of preserving the body from putrefaction, some have interpreted honey as the aliment of the gods. For Homer in a certain place calls nectar yellow; which is also the colour of honey. But whether or not honey is to be taken for nectar, we shall hereafter more accurately examine. Again, we find in Orpheus that Jupiter employs stratagems against Saturn from honey. For Saturn full of honey is intoxicated, his senses are darkened as if from the effects of wine, and he sleeps: just as Porus, according to Plato, is distended with nectar; for wine (says he) was not yet known. But night admonishes Jupiter to employ the stratagem of honey, according to Orpheus, in these words,

“As soon as you behold him spread under the lofty oaks, intoxicated with the sweet honey produced by the bees, bind him in chains.”

Saturn, therefore, intoxicated with honey is bound by Jupiter; and castrated in the same manner as Cælum. But the theological poet intimates by this fable that the divine essences are, as it were, bound, and drawn down by delight into the fluctuating empire of generation; and that when resolved in pleasure, they produce certain powers by their seminal virtue. Thus Saturn castrates Cælum, who, by his desire of coition descends to earth. But the intoxication of honey, signifies among theologists nothing more than the desire of coition; by the ensnaring power of which Saturn is castrated. For Saturn and his orb is the first of the celestial spheres, which moves contrary to the course of Cælum or the heavens. But certain virtues descend as well from the heavens as from the wandering stars, and the influences of the heavens are received by Saturn, and those of Saturn by Jupiter. Hence, since honey is assumed in purgations, and as an antidote to putrefaction, and aptly represents the pleasure and delight of descending into the fascinating realms of generation, it is accounted a symbol well adapted to nymphs the divinities of waters; signifying the nature of the waters over which they preside free from putrefaction: intimating likewise the purgative quality of the waters and their co-operating in the business of generation. For water promotes generation. The poet, therefore, very properly represents the bees as depositing their honey in bowls and urns: since bowls signify fountains; and on this account a bowl or cup is placed next to Mythras instead of a fountain. But we draw the waters of fountains in Amphora; and fountains and rivers are proper to aquatic nymphs, and especially to the nymphs called by the ancients souls, which antiquity likewise peculiarly denominated μελίσσας, i.e. artificers of sweetness or bees: for souls are, indeed, the authors of all the pleasure peculiar to our nature.

Hence Sophocles does not speak improperly, when he says,

“The swarm of the dead utters a buzzing noise.”