hem in an ineffable manner, exempt from the
universality of things. Hence, every being entering into the ineffable
sanctuary of its own nature finds there a symbol of the Father of all.
And by this mystical impression which corresponds to his nature
they become united with their original, divesting themselves of their
own essence and hastening to become his impression alone; and,
through a desire of his unknown nature and of the fountain of good,
to participate in him alone. And when they have ascended as far as
to this cause they enjoy perfect tranquillity and are conversant in the
perception of his divine progeny and of the love which all things
naturally possess, and goodness, unknown, ineffable, without
participation and transcendently full."

12 But before I take my leave of Plotinus, I cannot refrain from
addressing a few words to the Platonical part of my readers. If such
then is the wisdom contained in the works of this philosopher, as we
may conclude from the present specimen, is it fit so divine a treasure
should be concealed in shameful oblivion? With respect to true
philosophy you must be sensible that all modern sects are in a state
of barbarous ignorance; for Materialism and its attendant Sensuality
have darkened the eyes of the _many_ with the mists of error, and
are continually strengthening their corporeal tie. And can anything
more effectually dissipate this increasing gloom than discourses
composed by so sublime a genius, pregnant with the most profound
conceptions, and everywhere full of intellectual light? Can anything
so thoroughly destroy the phantom of false enthusiasm as
establishing the real object of the true? Let us then boldly enlist
ourselves under the banners of Plotinus, and, by his assistance,
vigorously repel the encroachments of error, plunge her dominions
into the abyss of forgetfulness, and disperse the darkness of her
baneful night. For indeed there never was a period which required so
much philosophic exertion, or such vehement contention from the
lovers of Truth. On all sides nothing of philosophy remains but the
name, and this is become the subject of the vilest prostitution; since
it is not only engrossed by the naturalist, chemist, and anatomist, but
is usurped by the mechanic in every trifling invention, and made
subservient to the lucre of traffic and merchandise. There cannot
surely be a greater proof of the degeneracy of the times than so
unparalleled a degradation and so