One of the best known passages of in Plato's writings is that of `Plato's
Cave' at the beginning of the seventh book of the Republic [VII, 514a
ff.]: but perhaps its profundities are worth exploring again because, I believe,
it provides a key to the philosophic life, which is also the happy and creative
life.
We must begin by reclaiming the word `philosophy' since it has been
belittled by misuse in the west over many centuries, so that for most seekers of
living spiritual truths and beauties the word means nothing more than a series
of arid arguments on semantic issues. But when Pythagoras first introduced
philosophy to the Greek language it denoted a nobility and a greatness
of aspiration to which many great men and women have gladly given their lives.
The word, of course, means `love of wisdom' and because wisdom is a Goddess, it
denotes the love of the mortal for the immortal. It led Maximus Tyrius to
write [dis. vi; TTS vol. VI, p. 71.] these delightful words in praise of true
philosophy and its destiny: "But to what shall I compare the spectacles of
a philosopher? to a clear dream by Zeus, circularly borne along in all
directions; in which, indeed, the body does not move, but the soul travels round
the whole earth, from earth ascends to heaven, passes over every sea, flies
through every region of the air, runs in conjunction with the sun, revolves with
the moon, is carried round with the choir of the other stars, and nearly governs
and arranges the universe, in conjunction with Zeus! O blessed journey,
beautiful visions, and true dreams!" We will consider a little later why
the philosopher who has made progress in his love of wisdom does indeed "nearly
govern and arrange the universe."
To return, however, to the Cave of the Republic in which
Socrates describes prisoners chained to a bench in such a way as to limit their
sight to the wall furthest from the cave's entrance. On this wall appear a
procession of shadows caused by a series of objects being carried along a walled
path behind the prisoners and which lies between them and a fire. The objects -
artificial representations - are numerous and of many different species of
things. Since the prisoners have known nothing but the procession of flickering
shadows they know no greater reality and cleverest amongst them are able to make
the most erudite analysis of these shadows: many win prizes for the remarkable
ability to predict which shadow will follow which.
From this strange prison one man escapes, and turning to explore what
has lain behind him during his imprisonment, sees first the procession of actual
objects, then the fire: this is enough to cause him considerable confusion and
some hurt to his eyes, and perhaps he would have sat down again had it not been
that someone took hold of him and forced him beyond the fire into the light of
day, beyond the cave. Here he saw living objects - the originals of which the
procession in the cave had been copies. Due to the enfeebled nature of his eyes,
unable to endure bright lights after a lifetime in the darkness of a cave, he
must first accustom his sight by a gradual series of increasingly bright
objects: at first he can only look at shadows, then at images of things
reflected in water, and finally the real things. Once he has a clear vision of
the upper world his last task is to look to the heavens themselves, to see
celestial lights, more beautiful than the things of the earth. Once again this
is to be accomplished by degrees: at first he can behold only the heavens at
night when the light of the stars dance their perfect rhythms, but finally, as
his eyes adapt, he is able to look upon the sun and is able to recognise the
truth that it is this single dazzling object which is the source and governor of
all things.
The former prisoner returns to the cave to tell his wonderful news
to his erstwhile companions, but such is the condition of his eyes, now used to
the full light of the sun, that the darkness of the cave makes him stumble and
appear the most benighted of fools: the chained prisoners at best laugh at him
and at worst become enraged at his ravings, promising that if they are able to
loosen their chains a little they will kill the madman.
Now to many
this allegory delivers a simple message: that our present condition is one of
shadowy unreality, and that the enlightened life awaits us if we are able to
free ourselves from our chains and find our way to the upper world. This is
certainly an important part of Plato's message to his readers, but a part only.
If we only read Plato himself it is easy to miss the rest of the message; it is
the great philosopher-mystics of late antiquity who give us the key to the
allegory's subtlety.
Proclus, perhaps the last great flowering of western antiquity's
wisdom, gives us in relatively clear language the metaphysical pattern which is
implicit within the writings of Plato and his immediate followers. It is this
metaphysical scheme which we must have if we are to follow every step of
Socrates' escaping prisoner. Briefly, the scheme of the universe can be
analyzed, according to Proclus, into six conditions or orders of being [note 1]:
Firstly unconditioned being, or "authentic
reality" an eternal and therefore immutable world of pure causes. This
world is derived from and ruled by the intelligible Gods.
Secondly
being conditioned or clothed in life, again eternal but especially
characterised by a dynamic quality which `pushes,' as it were, stable being into
a procession of archetypal ideas. Derived from and ruled by the
intelligible-intellectual Gods.
Thirdly
being and life conditioned or clothed in intellect; this, too, is
eternal and carries the causal and dynamic qualities of the first two worlds
further outwards: its own particular characteristic is creativity and ordered
thought. Derived from and ruled by the Intellectual Gods.
Because of this
characteristic creativity three further worlds, or conditions of being are
projected by the powers of the intellectual world: the fourth world is
that of
being-life-intellect conditioned or clothed in the individuating actions of
soul. The world of soul, while at its highest touching tri-une world of
being-life-intellect, is the first projected order, and its quality of activity
necessarily involves some contact with the processions of time. (Plotinus
defines time, by the way, as the `measure of the soul's activity.) Derived from
and ruled by the Supermundane Gods.
The fifth condition is that of being-life-intellect acted
upon by soul and given the conditioning and clothing of the appetencies, laws
and forms of nature; this world is central to the projected or manifested
cosmos, and, therefore, its leading characteristic is that of generative
dynamism. Derived from and ruled by the Liberated Gods.
The sixth and final condition of being is the world of matter:
or more properly matter upon which the five previous worlds' causes are
impressed, so that being-life-intellect-soul-nature are clothed in matter.
Derived from and ruled by the Mundane Gods.
You will see that at
each succeeding lower level the simplicity of the higher become more and more
complex, until in the material or mundane order everything is a complex entity
wrapped in many layers and is, therefore, difficult to understand.
But Proclus also says [note 2] that one thing, and one thing only,
is higher than Being Itself - and that is Unity. So above these six orders is a
super-order of Unity and Unities, which we may call the order of God, and the
Gods. Each order descending from the super order of unity down to the mundane
order of material existences is diminished in power and beauty: thus the highest
order is that in which the greatest power, the deepest beauties, the fullest
truths reside. It is worth noting that although each of the six orders is
derived from the various choirs of Gods, the Gods themselves are not a part of
these orders, because they are above being: although we come to know them
through their characteristic qualities of being, life, intellect, soul, nature
and body, the Gods are part of the super-order of unity and are not themselves
bounded by these qualities.
Now let us return to the Cave, and see if the different conditions
of being are implied in the ever higher perceptions of the freed prisoner:
Starting at the lowest level, the shadows on the cave wall have the
least reality - they are as close to nothingnesses as it is possible for
discernable things to be: we will see as we rise with our prisoner how these
shadows are the final result of a series of different levels of reality. While
the prisoners look at the wall with its dancing shadows they are almost entirely
ignorant, and are not able to see themselves, so that the terrible ignorance
which is self-ignorance is their lot: this is the state of each of us when our
perception is only of materiality.
Now when the prisoner first turns around he sees the statues,
furniture and other objects which are being carried along the walled path: these
are the representations of higher things. The forms in nature, which
continually give rise to actual physical lives and things, are distant echoes of
the archetypal ideas of the second order (that of Life). They are in continual
movement and still have a high degree of illusiveness about them - Plato says
this walled path is like the "hedges in the stage of mountebanks on which
they exhibit their wonderful tricks."
Beyond the procession of
objects is the fire which allows the cave to be a habitable place - a place with
a degree of reality and light: the cave without fire would be in utter
darkness, and any procession would go undetected. The fire represents the order
of soul - each soul being a microcosm of the great sun which the prisoner has
not yet glimpsed. The Timæus explicitly says that the purpose of souls is
to vivify and order the manifested cosmos, which was so often symbolised by the
ancients as a cave.
Now when our former prisoner has be led to the upper world Socrates
says "And, first of all, he would most easily perceive shadows, afterwards
the images of men and of other things in water, and after that the things
themselves." The prisoner, then, is at first obliged to look at shadows
again - but this time they are shadows of real things, rather than artificial
copies. The third (intellectual) order is a perfect reproduction of the two
higher orders and the three great intellective gods of the Greek Pantheon -
Cronos, Rhea and Zeus - are, respectively Intellective Being, Intellective Life,
and Intellect itself.
The next step is to look at the images of real things reflected in
water: the archetypal ideas of the second order of being are the images of the
unconditioned beings of the first order. Socrates uses the theme of water here,
I think, to indicate the living quality of this vision, for water is the great
life-giving element.
Finally the prisoner is able to see the "things themselves"
- in other words the authentic and unconditioned eternal beings of the first
order.
This might be the end of the increasing brilliant vision of the
former prisoner, but Socrates adds to his joys the contemplation of the heavens:
first the lesser lights of the night, and finally the vision of the day-star
from which the prisoner, now enlightened in every sense, understands all other
things have arisen.
The last phase of the Cave story is that in which the prisoner
voluntarily descends again for the sake of the remaining enchained men in the
cave: and this reconciles two apparently conflicting theories identified in
Plato's writings: that the destiny of the soul is to flee the material and rise
to a perpetual contemplation of the beauties of the celestial realms (cf. the
Phædrus 250a); and that the destiny of the soul is to vivify and
order the Cosmos (cf. the Timæus 41c). The voluntary prisoner,
whose eyes are now filled with the dazzling vision of the Sun, of the heavenly
bodies and of `real being' descends again taking with him this vision: for to
contemplate real being and that which generates real being is to become active
in a new sense. Actions are either accomplished when the attention is turned
outwards and downwards or when turned inwards and upwards: in the first case the
resulting activity is one of process, but in the second case the activity verges
into the essential creativity of the Gods who, in the words of Proclus [note 3],
"led and perfect all things in a silent path by their very being."
The best analogy we have to this essential creativity is to consider the way in
which the sun as the centre of the solar system controls the orbits of the
various planets by remaining still within the centre: the very mass of the sun
allows it to govern its satellites without the expenditure of energy. It is
this form of activity which enabled Maximus Tyrius to claim that we will "nearly
govern and arrange the universe in conjunction with Zeus." This we may say
then: the contemplative life is the most truly active life, for our actions
become creative only insofar as they arise from real contemplation. Our task
then - to spiritualise the mundane realm under the guidance of the Divine powers
- is not incompatible with the flight from material concerns to the orb of
light, the homeland of our exiled souls.
What turns our attention inward? Plotinus wrote a passage in his
Enneads (VI, v, 7) which refers to the verses of Homer in the first book of the
Iliad (Il. I, 199) in which Athene takes hold of Achilles' hair and jerks his
head around so that he sees her "with eyes blazing" in order to
prevent the hero from killing Agamemnon; Plotinus' words are: "Were one
able to be spun around, either by his own effort or through the good fortune of
being yanked by Athena herself, he will find himself face to face with the god,
with himself, and with the universe. He will not at first perceive what he sees
as the universe, but when he finds that he is unable to locate and define
himself and his limits, then, abandoning the definition of himself as something
separate from the entire One, he will enter the total universe without making a
single move, but by remaining there, where the universe has its foundations."
Let me repeat that last phrase: without making a single move. It is
the cultivation of stillness which is the exercise of the cathartic virtues, and
the reaping of the rewards of stillness in the exercise of the theoretic virtues
which Plato hints at in the Phædo where Socrates says: "Those who are
conversant with philosophy in a proper manner, seem to have concealed from
others that the whole of their study is nothing else than how to die and be
dead." As Olympiodorus says in his commentary [III, i] on this passage "to
die differs from to be dead. For the cathartic philosopher dies in consequence
of meditating death; but the theoretic philosopher is dead, in consequence of
being separated from the passions." The passions - those things external
to the essential unity of the soul and which cause the soul to be moved - always
arise when she identifies with the worlds which are lower than her own proper
order; it is the movement of the soul involved with the world which prevent her
from reaching the stillness of contemplation. Passions are the result of
appetites, which we have already defined as being an intrinsic part of the order
of nature, or that order which is immediately below that of the soul.
The path of philosophy is the stripping away of the clothes of real
being: anything can be the starting point of our journey inwards - Blake's grain
of sand or flower, for example - and then the process of simplification must
take over: this is not the material which surrounds it; this is not the natural
laws which give it definition; this is not the soul which gave it movement; this
is not the intellect which ordered it; this is not the life which impelled it
outwards; this is that which IS. When we have arrived at the purest being we
may then, if the Gods are willing, press beyond the final veil and find the
unity which is the root of being: the Nirvana state, if you like, in which even
being itself is revealed as a dream. Each level of being experienced is a new
level of perception, for although Proclus says [in Parmen.] that things are
known not according to their own quality but according to the quality of the
knower, the power of the soul is to be self-creative: therefore as each level is
reached so in some fashion the nature of the soul is changed. From this point
of view we are what we think. This is the reason why Aristotle says that man is
created by God and man - in other words man is started by God but finished by
his own powers.
When this simplification is finished we are not
longer beholding separate beauties, but Beauty herself. And the divine
priestess, Diotima, when directing Socrates to this final vision says [note 4]:
" . . what effect, think you, would the sight of beauty itself have upon a
man, were he to see it pure and genuine, not corrupted and stained all over with
the mixture of flesh, and colours, and much more of like perishing and fading
trash; but were able to view that divine essence, the beautiful itself, in its
own simplicity of form? Think you that the life of such a man would be
contemptible or mean; of the man who always directed his eye toward the right
object, who looked always at real beauty, and was conversant with it
continually? Perceive you not, said she, that in beholding the beautiful with
that eye, with which alone it is possible to behold it, thus, and thus only,
could a man ever attain to generate, not the images or semblances of virtue, as
not having his intimate commerce with an image or a semblance; but virtue true,
real, and substantial, from the converse and embraces of that which is real and
true. Thus begetting true virtue, and bringing her up till she is grown mature,
he would become a favourite of the Gods; and at length would be, if any man ever
be, himself one of the immortals."
This vision of the Beautiful, the ultimate object of all love, is the
continual test of the philosopher who pursues truth: all truth is beautiful, and
no one who ever gazed upon a great truth has come away from it without feeling
quickened by it. Speaking personally I use this as the most certain check
whenever I think I have discovered a new truth: the question is always "is
this idea beautiful?"
The removal of the accretions with which the universe surrounds pure
being is not a process of deadening negation but rather, if we follow Diotima's
path of Eros, an affirmation and love of the real. Proclus, in his commentary
on the Parmenides [note 5], says of this approach: "But our intention in
pursuing these mysteries is no other than by the logical energies of our reason
to arrive at the simple intellection of beings, and by these to excite the
divine one resident in the depths of our essence, or rather which presides over
our essence, that we may perceive the simple and incomprehensible one. For
after, through discursive energies and intellections, we have properly denied of
the first principle all conditions peculiar to beings, there will be some
danger, lest, deceived by imagination after numerous negations, we should think
that we have arrived either at nothing, or at something slender and vain,
indeterminate, formless, and confused; unless we are careful in proportion as we
advance in negations to excite by a certain amatorial affection the divine
vigour of our unity; trusting that by this means we may enjoy divine unity, when
we have dismissed the motion of reason and the multiplicity of intelligence, and
tend through unity alone to The One Itself, and through love to the supreme and
ineffable good."
Our highest destiny is, then, to come into the presence of the One
and the Good. But a word of caution here, for in a culture which is still
largely conditioned by the monotheism which grew in the place of the ancient
world's theology of `the One and the Gods' it is easy to dismiss the cultivation
of the Gods as being unnecessary. The Chaldean oracles [note 6] tell us that a
disordered approach to divinity is worthless, perhaps dangerous: the path to the
ineffable One is through his first progeny, the Gods, the divine unities who
unfold into light that which is forever hidden in the One alone. The worship of
the Gods is the most certain source of inspiration, as the art, architecture,
literature, and philosophy of Ancient Greece testify. The former prisoner,
nearing the perfect vision of the Sun, has as a final step, the survey of the
night sky - and only those who have been trapped all their lives in light
polluting modern cities will be ignorant of the joy which such a vision affords
the soul.
Let me end with another quote from Proclus [note 7]; one that I feel
ranks among the finest in all the world's scriptures. In it Proclus calls us to
the highest state of contemplation, that of The One, which he says is `hidden in
the intelligible Gods' or those Gods who govern the highest realm of pure being:
"Let us now therefore, if ever, abandon multiform knowledge,
exterminate from ourselves all the variety of life, and in perfect quiet
approach near to the cause of all things. For this purpose, let not only
opinion and phantasy be at rest, nor the passions alone which impede our
anagogic impulse to the first, be at peace; but let the air be still, and the
universe itself be still. And let all things extend us with a tranquil power
to communion with the ineffable. Let us also, standing there, having
transcended the intelligible (if we contain any thing of this kind,) and with
nearly closed eyes adoring as it were the rising sun, since it is not lawful for
any being whatever intently to behold him - let us survey the sun whence the
light of the intelligible Gods proceeds, emerging, as the poets say, from the
bosom of the ocean; and again from this divine tranquillity descending into
intellect, and from intellect, employing the reasonings of the soul, let us
relate to ourselves what the natures are from which, in this progression, we
shall consider the first God as exempt. And let us as it were celebrate him,
not as establishing the earth and the heavens, nor as giving subsistence to
souls, and the generations of all animals; for he produced these indeed, but
among the last of things; but, prior to these, let us celebrate him as unfolding
into light the whole intelligible and intellectual genus of Gods, together with
all the supermundane and mundane divinities - as the God of all Gods, the unity
of all unities, and beyond the first adyta, - as more ineffable than all
silence, and more unknown than all essence, - as holy among the holies, and
concealed in the intelligible Gods."
NOTES
1 For a fuller explanation of these six orders see p. 247 of Thomas Taylor Series Works of Platovol. III (TTS XI), note 101; and for a more modern exposition see chapter 3 of L Siovanes' Proclus, Neoplatonic Philosophy and Science.
2 See propositions 1- 6 of Proclus Elements of Theology (TTS vol. I).
3 Proclus' Theology of Plato I, 14, TTS vol. VIII,
4 The Banquet212a
5 See p. 34 of the Thomas Taylor Series Works of Platovol. IV (TTS XII).
6 "Divinity is never so much turned away from man, and never so much sends him novel paths, as when we make our ascent to the most divine of speculations, or works, in a confused and disordered manner, and as it adds, with unhallowed lips, or unbathed feet. For of those, who are thus negligent, the progressions are imperfect, the impulses are vain, and the paths are blind." TTS vol. VII, p. 49.
7 Proclus' Theology of Plato II, 11, TTS vol. VIII, p.166
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