II. We still, therefore, repeat the question, what is the beauty of bodies? It is something, which, at first view, presents itself to sense; and which the soul familiarly apprehends, and eagerly embraces, as if it were allied to itself: But when it meets with the deformed, it hastily starts from the view, and retires abhorrent from its discordant nature. For since the soul in its proper state, ranks according to the most excellent essence in the order of things, when it perceives any object related to itself, or the mere vestige of a relation, it congratulates itself on the pleasing event, and astonished with the striking resemblance, enters deep into its essence,1 and, by rousing its dormant powers, at length perfectly recollects its kindred and allies. What is the similitude then between the beauties of sense, and that beauty which is divine? For if there be any similitude, the respective objects must be similar. But after what manner are the two beautiful? For it is by participation of species that we call every sensible object beautiful. Thus, since every thing void of form is by nature fitted for its reception, as far as it is destitute of reason and form, it is base, and separate from the divine reason, the great fountain of forms; and whatever is entirely remote from this immortal source, is perfectly base, and deformed. And such is matter,2 which by its nature is ever averse from the supervening irradiations of form. Whenever, therefore, form accedes, it conciliates in amicable unity, the parts which are about to compose a whole: for being itself one, it is not wonderful that the subject of its power should tend to unity, as far as the nature of a compound will admit. Hence beauty is established in multitude, when the many is reduced into one; and in this case it communicates itself both to the parts, and to the whole. But when a particular one, composed from similar parts, is received, it gives itself to the whole, without departing from the sameness and integrity of its nature. Thus at one and the same time, it communicates itself to the whole building, and its several parts; and at another time confines itself to a single stone: and then the first participation arises from the operations of art, but the second from the formation of nature. And hence body becomes beautiful, through the communion supernally proceeding from divinity.
Enters deep into its essence, etc. The Platonic philosophy insists much on the necessity of retiring into ourselves in order to the discovery of truth: and on this account, Socrates, in the first Alcibiades, says, that the soul entering into herself will contemplate whatever exists, and the divinity himself. Upon which Proclus thus comments, with his usual elegance and depth, (in Theology of Plato, page 7) “For the soul (says he) contracting herself wholly into a union with herself, and into the centre of universal life, and removing the multitude and variety of all-various powers, ascends into the highest (periope) place of speculation, from whence she will survey the nature of beings. For if she looks back upon things posterior to her essence, she will perceive nothing but the shadows and resemblances of beings: but if she returns into herself, she will evolve her own essence, and the reasons she contains. And at first indeed she will as it were only behold herself; but when by her knowledge she penetrates more profoundly in her investigations, she will find intellect seated in her essence, and the universal orders of beings: but when she advances into the more interior recesses of herself, and as it were into the sanctuary of the soul, she will be enabled to contemplate, with her eyes closed to corporeal vision, the genus of the gods, and the unities of beings. For all things reside in us, (psychikos) after a manner correspondent to the nature of the soul: and on this account we are naturally enabled to know all things, by exciting our uiherent powers, and images of whatever exists.” ↩
And such is matter, etc. There is nothing affords more wonderful speculation than latter, which ranks as the last among the universality of things, and has the same relation to being, as shade to substance. For, as in an ascending series of causes, it is necessary to arrive at something, which is the first cause of all, and to which no Perfection is wanting: so in a descending series of subjects, it is equally necessary we should stop at some general subject, the lowest in the order of things, and to which every perfection of being is denied. (For a further discussion of the nature of matter see Ennead III, vi, sect 7 on page 247 and Ennead II, iv on page 197). ↩