enlightened among them had agreed that it is an abyss of nature that one would not know how to fathom.[1]
31. . . . that these unfortunates Seek afar the goodness whose source within they bear.
The source of all goodness is wisdom, and wisdom begins
with the knowledge of oneself. Without this knowledge, one
aspires in vain to real goodness. But how is it obtainable?
If you interrogate Plato upon this important point, he will
respond to you, that it is in going back to the essence of
things—that is to say, in considering that which constitutes
man in himself. "A workman, you will say to this philosopher,
is not the same thing as the instrument which he
uses; the one who plays the lyre differs from the lyre upon
which he plays. You will readily agree to this, and the
philosopher, pursuing his reasoning, will add: And the eyes
with which this musician reads his music, and the hands
with which he holds his lyre, are they not also instruments?
Can you deny, if the eyes, if the hands are instruments, that
the whole body may likewise be an instrument, different
from the being who makes use of it and who commands?"
Unquestionably no, and you will comprehend sufficiently
that this being, by which man is really man, is the soul, the
knowledge of which you ought to seek. "For," Plato will
also tell you, "he who knows his body, only knows that it is
his, and is not himself. To know his body as a physician or
as a sculptor, is an art, to know his soul, as a sage, is a
science and the greatest of all sciences."[2]
From the knowledge of himself man passes to that of God; and it is in fixing this model of all perfection that he succeeds in delivering himself from the evils which he has attracted by his own choice.[3] His deliverance depends,
