ABSTRACT

I have not, I regret to say, had the sound philosophical training which is given to students in the Oxford School of Literae Humaniores. At Eton, “my most kindly nurse,” we were not, in the seventies, encouraged to think that life has any problems to solve; and at Cambridge “the riddling Sphinx” (as (Œdipus says) “compelled us to attend to the matter in hand, and to let the unknown go.” I have often doubted since whether it was worth while to keep in such rigorous training for four years; but at least I routed the Sphinx; the examiners always placed me where I wished to be. As a classical tutor at Oxford I began to lament the gaps in my education, and to search for a philosophy by which I could live. This I found in those Christian mystics who were steeped in the Platonic tradition, and I soon discovered that Plotinus is the father of those who wish to climb the hill of the Lord by this path. My book on Plotinus was nearly ready when the invitation to a Gifford lectureship enabled me to publish under these pleasant auspices the fruits of over fifteen years’ study. I owe these biographical details to my readers; for though I have read much and thought earnestly, I cannot suppose that as a metaphysician I am quite worthy of the distinguished company in which I find myself between the covers of this volume.