perfect mysteries and alone becomes truly perfect. But, as he
forgets earthly interests and is rapt in the divine, the vulgar deem him
mad, and rebuke him; they do not see that he is inspired.

Thus far I have been speaking of the fourth and last kind of madness,
which is imputed to him who, when he sees the beauty of earth, is
transported with the recollection of the true beauty; he would like to
fly away, but he cannot; he is like a bird fluttering and looking upward
and careless of the world below; and he is therefore thought to be mad.
And I have shown this of all inspirations to be the noblest and highest
and the offspring of the highest to him who has or shares in it, and
that he who loves the beautiful is called a lover because he partakes of
it. For, as has been already said, every soul of man has in the way of
nature beheld true being; this was the condition of her passing into the
form of man. But all souls do not easily recall the things of the other
world; they may have seen them for a short time only, or they may have
been unfortunate in their earthly lot, and, having had their hearts
turned to unrighteousness through some corrupting influence, they may
have lost the memory of the holy things which once they saw. Few only
retain an adequate remembrance of them; and they, when they behold
here any image of that other world, are rapt in amazement; but they
are ignorant of what this rapture means, because they do not clearly
perceive. For there is no light of justice or temperance or any of the
higher ideas which are precious to souls in the earthly copies of them:
they are seen through a glass dimly; and there are few who, going to the
images, behold in them the realities, and these only with difficulty.
There was a time when with the rest of the happy band they saw beauty
shining in brightness,--we philosophers following in the train of Zeus,
others in company with other gods; and then we beheld the beatific
vision and were initiated into a mystery which may be truly called most
blessed, celebrated by us in our state of innocence, before we had
any experience of evils to come, when we were admitted to the sight
of apparitions innocent and simple and calm and happy, which we beheld
shining in pure light, pure ourselves and not yet enshrined in that
living tomb which we carry about, now that we are imprisoned in the
body, like an oyster in his shell. Let me linger over the memory of
scenes which have passed awa