Part 25

Hitherto we have followed Ulysses in his voyage over the turbulent and dangerous ocean of sense; in which we have seen him struggling against the storms of temptation, and in danger of perishing through the tempestuous billows of vice. We must now attend him in the region of imagination, and mark his progress from the enchanted island, till he regains the long-lost empire of his soul. That the poet then, by Calypso, occultly signifies the phantasy or imagination, is, I think, evident from his description of her abode. For she is represented as dwelling in a cavern, illuminated by a great fire; and this cave is surrounded with a thick wood, is watered by four fountains, and is situated in an island, remote from any habitable place, and environed by the mighty ocean. All which particulars correspond with the phantasy, as I presume the following observations will evince. In the first place, the primary and proper vehicle of the phantasy, or, as it is called by the Platonic philosophers, _the imaginative spirit_, is attenuated and ethereal, and is therefore naturally luminous. In the next place, the island is said to be surrounded with a thick wood, which evidently corresponds to a material nature, or this body, with which the phantasy is invested. For υλη, or _matter_, also signifies _a wood_. But the four fountains, by which the cave is watered, occultly signify the four gnostic powers of the soul, _intellect_, _the discursive energy of reason_, _opinion_, _and sense_; with all which the phantasy, being also a gnostic power, communicates; so that it receives images, like a mirror, from all of them, and retains those which it receives from the senses, when the objects by which they were produced are no longer present. Hence the imagination, or the phantasy, [φαντασια,] is denominated from being των φανεντων στασις, _the permanency of appearances_. And, in the last place, the island is said to be environed by the ocean; which admirably accords with a corporeal nature, for ever flowing, without admitting any periods of repose. And thus much for the secret agreement of the cavern and island with the region of imagination.

But the poet, by denominating the Goddess Calypso, and the island Ogygia, appears to me very evidently to confirm the preceding exposition. For Calypso is derived from καλυπτω, which signifies _to cover as with a veil_; and Ogygia is from ωγυγιος, _ancient_. And as the imaginative spirit is the primary vehicle of the rational soul, which it derived from the planetary spheres, and in which it descended to the sublunary regions, it may with great propriety be said to cover the soul as with a fine garment or veil; and it is no less properly denominated _ancient_, when considered as the first vehicle of the soul.

In this region of the phantasy, then, Ulysses is represented as an involuntary captive, continually employed in bewailing his absence from his true country, and ardently longing to depart from the fascinating embraces of the Goddess. For thus his situation is beautifully described by the poet:

But sad Ulysses, by himself apart, Pour’d the big sorrows of his swelling heart; All on the lonely shore he sat to weep, And roll’d his eyes around the restless deep; Tow’rd his lov’d coast he roll’d his eyes in vain, Till dimm’d with rising grief they stream’d again[196].

His return, however, is at length effected through Mercury, or reason, who prevails on the Goddess to yield to his dismission. Hence, after her consent, Ulysses is, with great propriety, said to have placed himself on the throne on which Mercury had sate: for reason then resumes her proper seat when the reasoning power is about to abandon the delusive and detaining charms of imagination. But Homer appears to me to insinuate something admirable when he represents Ulysses, on his departure from Calypso, sailing by night, and contemplating the order and light of the stars, in the following beautiful lines:

And now, rejoicing in the prosperous gales, With beating heart Ulysses spread his sails; Plac’d at the helm he sate, and mark’d the skies, Nor clos’d in sleep his ever watchful eyes. There viewed the Pleiads, and the northern team, And great Orion’s more refulgent beam; To which around the axle of the sky The Bear, revolving, points his golden eye; Who shines exalted on the ethereal plain, Nor bathes his blazing forehead in the main[197].

For what he here says of Ulysses, is perfectly conformable to what is said by Plato in the 7th book of his Republic, respecting the man who is to be led from the cave, which he there describes, to the light of day, _i.e._ from a sensible to an intellectual life, viz. “that he will more easily see what the heavens contain, and the heavens themselves, by _looking in the night to the light of the stars and the moon_, than by day looking on the sun, and the light of the sun.” For by this, as Proclus well observes, “Plato signifies the contemplation of intelligibles, of which the stars and their light are imitations, so far as all of them partake of the form of the sun, in the same manner as intelligibles are characterized by the nature of _the good_. These, then, such a one must contemplate, that he may understand their essence, and those summits of their nature, by which they are deiform processions from the ineffable principle of things.” Ulysses, therefore, who is hastening to an intellectual life, contemplates these lucid objects with vigilant eyes, rejoicing in the illuminations and assistance they afford him while sailing over the dark ocean of a sensible life.

But as he is now earnestly engaged in departing from sense, he must unavoidably be pursued by the anger of Neptune, the lord of generation and a sensible life, whose service he has forsaken, and whose offspring he has blinded by stratagem, and irritated by reproach. Hence, in the midst of these delightful contemplations, he is almost overwhelmed by the waves of misfortune, roused by the wrath of his implacable foe. He is, however, through divine assistance, or Leucothea, enabled to sustain the dreadful storm. For, receiving from divinity the immortal fillet of true fortitude, and binding it under his breast, (the proper seat of courage,) he encounters the billows of adversity, and bravely shoots along the boisterous ocean of life. It must, however, be carefully observed, that the poet is far from ascribing a certain passion to a divine nature, when he speaks of the anger of Neptune: for, in thus speaking, he, as well as other theologists, intended only to signify our inaptitude to the participation of its beneficent influence.

Ulysses therefore, having with much difficulty escaped the dangers arising from the wrath of Neptune, lands at length on the island of Phæacia, where he is hospitably received, and honourably dismissed. Now, as it is proper that he who, like Ulysses, departs from the delusions of imagination, should immediately betake himself to the more intellectual light of the rational energy of the soul, the land of Phæacia ought to correspond to our intellectual part, and particularly to that portion of it which is denominated in Greek _dianoia_, and which is characterized by the power of reasoning scientifically, deriving the principles of its discursive energy from intellect. And that it has this correspondence, the following observations will, I persuade myself, abundantly evince. In the first place, then, this island is represented by the poet as enjoying a perpetual spring, which plainly indicates that it is not any terrestrial situation. Indeed, the critical commentators have been so fully convinced of this, that they acknowledge Homer describes Phæacia as one of the Fortunate Islands; but they have not attempted to penetrate his design, in such a description. If, however, we consider the perfect liberty, unfading variety, and endless delight, which our intellectual part affords, we shall find that it is truly the Fortunate Island of the soul, in which, by the exercise of the theoretic virtues, it is possible for a man, even in the present life, to obtain genuine felicity, though not in that perfection as when he is liberated from the body. With respect to the Fortunate Islands, their occult meaning is thus beautifully unfolded by Olympiodorus, in his MS. commentary on the Gorgias of Plato: Δει δε ειδεναι οτι αι νησοι υπερκυπτουσι της θαλασσης ανωτερω ουσαι, την ουν πολιτειαν την υπερκυψασαν του βιου και της γενησεως, μακαρων νησους καλουσι· ταυτον δε εστι και το ηλυσιον πεδιον. δια τοι τουτο και ο Ηρακλης τελευταιον αθλον, εν τοις εσπεριοις μερεσιν εποιησατο, αντι κατηγωνισατο τον σκοτεινον και χθονιον βιον, και λοιπον εν ημερα, ο εστιν εν αληθειᾳ και φωτι εζη: _i.e._ “It is necessary to know that islands are raised above, being higher than the sea. A condition of being, therefore, which transcends this corporeal life and generation, is denominated the islands of the blessed; but these are the same with the Elysian fields. And on this account, Hercules is reported to have accomplished his last labour in the Hesperian regions; signifying by this, that having vanquished an obscure and terrestrial life, he afterwards lived in open day, that is, in truth and resplendent light.” In the next place, the poet, by his description of the palace of Alcinous, the king of this island, admirably indicates the pure and splendid light of the energy of reason. For he says of it:

The front appear’d with radiant splendours gay, Bright as the lamp of night, or orb of day. The walls were massy brass: the cornice high Blue metals crown’d in colours of the sky. Rich plates of gold the folding doors incase; The pillars silver on a brazen base. Silver the lintels deep projecting o’er, And gold the ringlets that command the door. Two rows of stately dogs on either hand, In sculptur’d gold, and labour’d silver, stand. These Vulcan form’d intelligent to wait Immortal guardians at Alcinous’ gate[198].

And he represents it as no less internally luminous by night.

Refulgent pedestals the walls surround, Which boys of gold with flaming torches crown’d; The polish’d ore, reflecting ev’ry ray, Blaz’d on the banquets with a double day.

Indeed Homer, by his description of the outside of this palace, sufficiently indicates its agreement with the planet Mercury, the deity of which presides over the rational energy. For this God, in the language of Proclus[199], “unfolds into light intellectual gifts, fills all things with divine _reasons_ [_i.e._ forms, and productive principles,] elevates souls to intellect, wakens them as from a profound sleep, converts them through investigation to themselves, and by a certain obstetric art and invention of pure intellect, brings them to a blessed life.” According to astronomers, likewise, the planet Mercury is resplendent with the colours of all the other planets. Thus Baptista Porta in Cœlest. Physiog. p. 88. “Videbis in eo Saturni luridum, Martis ignem, Jovis candidum, Veneris flavum, necnon utriusque nitor, hilaritasque, et ob id non peculiaris formæ, sed eorum formam capit, cum quibus associatur, ob id in describendo ejus colore astrologi differunt.” _i.e._ “You may perceive in this planet the pale colour of Saturn, the fire of Mars, the whiteness of Jupiter, and the yellow of Venus; and likewise the brilliancy and hilarity of each. On this account it is not of a peculiar form, but receives the form of its associates, and thus causes astrologers to differ in describing its colour.”

But that the island of Phæacia is the dominion of reason, is, I think, indisputably confirmed by Homer’s account of the ships fabricated by its inhabitants. For of these, he says:

So shalt thou instant reach the realm assign’d, In wond’rous ships self-mov’d, instinct with mind. No helm secures their course, no pilot guides, Like man intelligent they plough the tides, Conscious of ev’ry coast and ev’ry bay, That lies beneath the sun’s all-seeing ray; And veil’d in clouds impervious to the eye, Fearless and rapid through the deep they fly[200].

For it is absurd to suppose that Homer would employ such an hyperbole, in merely describing the excellency of the Phæacian ships. Hence, as it so greatly surpasses the bounds of probability, and is so contrary to the admirable prudence which Homer continually displays, it can only be admitted as an allegory, pregnant with latent meaning, and the recondite wisdom of antiquity. The poet likewise adds respecting the Phæacians:

These did the ruler of the deep ordain To build proud navies, and command the main; On canvas wings to cut the wat’ry way, No bird more light, _no thought more swift than they_.

The last of which lines so remarkably agrees with the preceding explanation, that I presume no stronger confirmation can be desired. Nor is the original less satisfactory:

των νεες ωκειαι ωσει πτερον ηε νοημα[201],

_i.e._ “The ships of these men are swift as a wing, or as _a conception of the mind_.” But the inhabitants of the palace are represented as spending their days in continual festivity, and unceasing mirth; in listening to the harmony of the lyre, or in forming the tuneful mazes of the joyful dance. For to the man who lives under the guidance of reason, or to the good man, every day, as Diogenes said, is a festival. Hence, such a one is constantly employed in tuning the lyre of recollection, in harmonious revolutions about an intelligible essence, and the never-satiating and deifying banquet of intellect.

And here we may observe how much the behaviour of Ulysses, at the palace of Alcinous, confirms the preceding exposition, and accords with his character, as a man passing in a regular manner from the delusions of sense, to the realities of intellectual enjoyment. For as he is now converted to himself, and is seated in the palace of reason, it is highly proper that he should call to mind his past conduct, and be afflicted with the survey; and that he should be wakened to sorrow by the lyre of reminiscence, and weep over the follies of his past active life. Hence, when the divine bard Demodocus, inspired by the fury of the Muses, sings the contention between Ulysses and Achilles, on his golden lyre, Ulysses is vehemently affected with the relation. And when the inhabitants of the palace, _i.e._ the powers and energies of the rational soul, transported with the song, demanded its repetition.

Again Ulysses veil’d his pensive head, Again, unmann’d, a shower of sorrow shed.

For to the man who is making a proficiency in virtue, the recollection of his former conduct is both pleasing and painful; pleasing, so far as in some instances it was attended with rectitude, but painful so far as in others it was erroneous.

Ulysses, also, is with the greatest propriety represented as relating his past adventures in the palace of Alcinous. For as he now betakes himself to the intellectual light of the reasoning power, it is highly necessary that he should review his past conduct, faithfully enumerate the errors of his life, and anxiously solicit a return to true manners, and perfect rectitude of mind. As likewise he is now on his passage, by the pure energy of reason to regain the lost empire of his soul, he is represented as falling into so profound a sleep in his voyage, as to be insensible for some time of its happy consummation; by which the poet indicates his being separated from sensible concerns, and wholly converted to the energies of the rational soul. Nor is it without reason that the poet represents Ithaca, as presenting itself to the mariners’ view, when the bright morning star emerges from the darkness of night. For thus he sings:

But when the morning star, with early ray, Flam’d in the front of heav’n and promis’d day; Like distant clouds, the mariner descries Fair Ithaca’s emerging hills arise[202].

Since it is only by the dawning beams of intellect, that the discursive energy of reason can gain a glimpse of the native country and proper seat of empire of the soul.

Ulysses therefore, being now converted to the energies of the rational soul, and anxious to commence the cathartic virtues, recognizes, through the assistance of Minerva, or wisdom, his native land: and immediately enters into a consultation with the Goddess, how he may effectually banish the various perturbations and inordinate desires, which yet lurk in the penetralia of his soul. For this purpose, it is requisite that he should relinquish all external possessions, mortify every sense, and employ every stratagem, which may finally destroy these malevolent foes. Hence, the garb of poverty, the wrinkles of age, and the want of the necessaries of life, are symbols of mortified habits, desertion of sensible pursuits, and an intimate conversion to intellectual good. For the sensitive eye must now give place to the purer sight of the rational soul; and the strength and energies of the corporeal nature must yield to the superior vigour of intellectual exertion, and the severe exercise of cathartic virtue. And this, Homer appears most evidently to indicate in the following beautiful lines:

Now seated in the olive’s sacred shade, Confer the hero and the martial maid. The Goddess of the azure eyes began: Son of Laertes! much experienc’d man! The suitor train thy earliest care demand, Of that luxurious race to rid the land. Three years thy house their lawless rule has seen, And proud addresses to the matchless queen[203]; But she thy absence mourns from day to day, And inly bleeds, and silent wastes away; Elusive of the bridal hour, she gives Fond hopes to all, and all with hopes deceives[204].

Hence:

It fits thee now to wear a dark disguise, And secret walk unknown to mortal eyes; For this my hand shall wither ev’ry grace, And ev’ry elegance of form and face, O’er thy smooth skin a bark of wrinkles spread, Turn hoar the auburn honours of thy head, Disfigure every limb with coarse attire, And in thine eyes extinguish all the fire; Add all the wants and the decays of life, Estrange thee from thy own; thy son, thy wife; From the loath’d object ev’ry sight shall turn, And the blind suitors their destruction scorn[205].

After this follows the discovery of Ulysses to Telemachus, which is no less philosophically sublime than poetically beautiful. For, by Telemachus, we must understand _a true scientific conception of things_; since this is the legitimate offspring of the energy of the rational soul, in conjunction with philosophy. Hence Ulysses, while employed in the great work of mortification, recognizes his genuine offspring, and secretly plans with him the destruction of his insidious foes. And hence we may see the propriety of Telemachus being represented as exploring his absent father, and impatient for his return. For the rational soul then alone associates with a true conception of things, when it withdraws itself from sensible delights, and meditates a restoration of its fallen dignity and original sway.

And now Ulysses presents himself to our view in the habits of mortification, hastening to his long deserted palace, or the occult recesses of his soul, that he may mark the conduct and plan the destruction of those baneful passions which are secretly attempting to subvert the empire of his mind. Hence, the poet very properly and pathetically exclaims:

And now his city strikes the monarch’s eyes, Alas! how chang’d! a man of miseries; Propt on a staff, a beggar, old and bare, In tatter’d garments, flutt’ring with the air[206].

However, as this disguise was solely assumed for the purpose of procuring ancient purity and lawful rule, he divests himself of the torn garments of mortification, as soon as he begins the destruction of occult desires; and resumes the proper dignity and strength of his genuine form. But it is not without reason that Penelope, who is the image of philosophy, furnishes the instrument by which the hostile rout of passions are destroyed. For what besides the arrows of philosophy can extirpate the leading bands of impurity and vice? Hence, as soon as he is furnished with this irresistible weapon, he no longer defers the ruin of his insidious foes, but

Then fierce the hero o’er the threshold strode; Stript of his rags, he blaz’d out like a God. Full in their face the lifted bow he bore, And quiver’d deaths a formidable store; Before his feet the rattling show’r he threw, And thus terrific to the suitor crew[207].

But Homer represents Penelope as remaining ignorant of Ulysses, even after the suitors are destroyed, and he is seated on the throne of majesty, anxious to be known, and impatient to return her chaste and affectionate embrace. For thus he describes her:

Then gliding through the marble valves in state, Oppos’d before the shining fire she sate. The monarch, by a column high enthron’d. His eye withdrew, and fixed it on the ground, Anxious to hear his queen the silence break: Amaz’d she sate, and impotent to speak; O’er all the man her eyes she rolls in vain, Now hopes, now fears, now knows, then doubts again[208].

By which Homer indicates, that Philosophy, through her long absence from the soul, and the foreign manners and habits which the soul had assumed, is a stranger to it, so that it is difficult for her to recognize the union and legitimate association which once subsisted between them. However, in order to facilitate this discovery, Ulysses renders all pure and harmonious within the recesses of his soul; and, by the assistance of Minerva, or wisdom, resumes the garb and dignity which he had formerly displayed.

Then instant to the bath (the monarch cries,) Bid the gay youth and sprightly virgins rise, Thence all descend in pomp and proud array, And bid the dome resound the mirthful lay; While the sweet lyrist airs of raptures sings, And forms the dance responsive to the strings[209].

And afterwards, Ulysses is described as appearing, through the interposition of Minerva, _like one of the immortals_.

So Pallas his heroic form improves, With bloom divine, and like a God he moves[210].

For, indeed, he who, like Ulysses, has completely destroyed the domination of his passions, and purified himself, through the cathartic virtues, from their defiling nature, no longer ranks in the order of mortals, but is assimilated to divinity. And now, in order that he may become entirely known to Philosophy, that chaste Penelope of the soul, it is only requisite for him to relate the secrets of their mystic union, and recognize the bower of intellectual love. For then perfect recollection will ensue; and the anxiety of diffidence will be changed into transports of assurance, and tears of rapturous delight.

And thus we have attended Ulysses in his various wanderings and woes, till, through the _cathartic_ virtues, he recovers the ruined empire of his soul. But, as it is requisite that he should, in the next place, possess and energize according to the theoretic or contemplative virtues, the end of which is a union with deity, as far as this can be effected by man in the present life, Homer only indicates to us his attainment of this end, without giving a detail of the gradual advances by which he arrived at this consummate felicity. This union is occultly signified by Ulysses first beholding, and afterwards ardently embracing his father with ecstatic delight. With most admirable propriety, also, is Ulysses represented as proceeding, in order to effect this union, by himself _alone_, to his father who is also _alone_.

_Alone_ and unattended, let me try If yet I share the old man’s memory[211],

says Ulysses. And afterwards it is said,

But all _alone_ the hoary king he found[212].