To return to the education of Plotinus.  He was twenty-eight when he went up to the University of Alexandria.  For eleven years he diligently attended the lectures of Ammonius.  Then he went on the Emperor Gordian’s expedition to the East, hoping to learn the philosophy of the Hindus.  The Upanishads would have puzzled Plotinus, had he reached India; but he never did.  Gordian’s army was defeated in Mesopotamia, no “blessed word” to Gordian, and Plotinus hardly escaped with his life.  He must have felt like Stendhal on the retreat from Moscow.

From Syria his friend and disciple Amelius led him to Rome, and here, as novelists say, “a curious thing happened.”  There was in Rome an Egyptian priest, who offered to raise up the Demon, or Guardian Angel, of Plotinus in visible form.  But there was only one pure spot in all Rome, so said the priest, and this spot was the Temple of Isis.  Here the seance was held, and no demon appeared, but a regular God of one of the first circles.  So terrified was an onlooker that he crushed to death the living birds which he held in his hands for some ritual or magical purpose.

It was a curious scene, a cosmopolitan confusion of Egypt, Rome, Isis, table-turning, the late Mr. Home, religion, and mummery, while Christian hymns of the early Church were being sung, perhaps in the garrets around, outside the Temple of Isis.  The discovery that he had a god for his guardian angel gave Plotinus plenty of confidence in dealing with rival philosophers.  For example, Alexandrinus Olympius, another mystic, tried magical arts against Plotinus.  But Alexandrinus, suddenly doubling up during lecture with unaffected agony, cried, “Great virtue hath the soul of Plotinus, for my spells have returned against myself.”  As for Plotinus, he remarked among his disciples, “Now the body of Alexandrinus is collapsing like an empty purse.”

How diverting it would be, Lady Violet, if our modern controversialists had those accomplishments, and if Mr. Max Muller could, literally, “double up” Professor Whitney, or if any one could cause Peppmuller to collapse with his queer Homeric theory!  Plotinus had many such arts.  A piece of jewellery was stolen from one of his protegees, a lady, and he detected the thief, a servant, by a glance.  After being flogged within an inch of his life, the servant (perhaps to save the remaining inch) confessed all.

Once when Porphyry was at a distance, and was meditating suicide, Plotinus appeared at his side, saying, “This that thou schemest cometh not of the pure intellect, but of black humours,” and so sent Porphyry for change of air to Sicily.  This was thoroughly good advice, but during the absence of the disciple the master died.

Porphyry did not see the great snake that glided into the wall when Plotinus expired; he only heard of the circumstance.  Plotinus’s last words were:  “I am striving to release that which is divine within us, and to merge it in the universally divine.”  It is a strange mixture of philosophy and savage survival.  The Zulus still believe that the souls of the dead reappear, like the soul of Plotinus, in the form of serpents.