pm ο ) I _ Ο * Τ I Kj Μ S Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2018 with funding from Wellcome Library https://archive.org/details/b29318178 <$02. SELECT WORKS OF PLOTINUS, THE GREAT RESTORER OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF PLATO : AND EXTRACTS FROM THE TREATISE OF SYNESIUS Dn ProtiiDencc. t TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK. WITH AN INTRODUCTION CONTAINING THE SUBSTANCE OF PORPHYRY’S LIFE OF PLOTINUS. BY THOMAS TAYLOR. A ρχα καί αίτια και κανών ςντι ras ανθρώπινα? ευζαιμοσυνα? α των Θειων και τιμιωτατων επηνωσιε, THEAGES PyTHAG. i. e. “ The knowledge of things divine and most honourable, is the principle, cause, and rule of human felicity.” He who has not even a knowledge of common things is a brute among men. He who has an accurate knowledge of human concerns alone, is a man among brutes. But he who knows all that can be known by intel¬ lectual energy, is a God among men. LonDon : PRINTED FOR, AND SOLD BY, THE AUTHOR, NO. 9, MANOR PLACE, WALWORTH. ALSO BY MESSRS. BLACK AND SON, TAVISTOCK STREET, COVENT GARDEN. 1817. >\ HISTORICAL J r LONDON : Printed by A. J. Valpyf Tooke's Court , Chancery Lane » 1817. TO GEORGE MEREDITH, ESQ. AS A TRIBUTE OF THE WARMEST GRATITUDE, \ i FOR THE ASSISTANCE WHICH HE HAS GIVEN, IN CONJUNCTION WITH HIS BROTHER, WILLIAM MEREDITH, TO THE PROMULGATION OF THE PHILOSOPHY OF PLATO AND ARISTOTLE, AND A TESTIMONY OF GREAT ESTEEM FOR HIS CHARACTER, THIS WORK IS DEDICATED BY THE TRANSLATOR, THOMAS TAYLOR. * . r :: /· , . . :· . ■ : · . - : · Ί ,.· ‘ ... ·. . ·?·,,_ v?· . / ·- ^ * - ' > I'J ' . ... - * - '.·> · . r.. .'... . ■·- i : ' ■ A - · .... j , . ■ ; V ■ . . : "···· V · . .· . : • · · v r f ' - 1 * a · . :· · -■ .. ■ · . i. • * . } . ■ · v . .·- i. \ ■ . ' ' f/*' ( The following is a List of Translations and Original Works BY T. TAYLOR. Cranslations. FROM THE GREEK. The Hymns of Orpheus, 12mo, 2s. 6d. Plotinus on the Beautiful, l2mo. Is. 6d. Proclus on Euclid, and his Elements of Theology, in which |he principal dogmas of a Theology coeval with the Universe are unfolded. 2 vols. 4to. 1/. 10s. Four Dialogues of Plato, viz. the Cratylus, Phaedo, Parme¬ nides, and Timseus. 8vo. *Js. 6d. The Phaedrus of Plato. 4to. 6s. Sallust on the Gods and the World. 8vo. 3s. Two Orations of the Emperor Julian, one to the Sovereign Sun, and the other to the Mother of the Gods. 8vo. 3s. Five Books of Plotinus, viz. on Felicity ; on the Nature and Origin of Evil; on Providence; on Nature, Contempla¬ tion, and the One ; and on the Descent of the Soul. 8vo. 5s. VI Pausanias's Description of Greece, with copious Notes, in which much of the Mythology of the Greeks is unfolded from genuine ancient sources. 3 vols. 8vo. 18s. Aristotle’s Metaphysics, with copious Notes, in which the Platonic doctrine of Ideas is largely unfolded. 4 to 2/. 2s. The Dissertations of Maximus Tyrius. 2 vols. 12mo. 12s. The Works of Plato, in which the substance is given of nearly all the existing Greek MSS., Commentaries and Scho¬ lia on Plato, and his most abstruse Dogmas are unfolded. 5 vols. 4to. 10/. 10s. The Works of Aristotle, accompanied with copious elucida¬ tions from the best of his Greek Commentators, viz. Alexander Aphrodisiensis, Syrianus, Ammonius Hermasas, Priscianus, Olympiodorus, Simplicius, &c. 9 vols. 4to. 47/. 5s. The six Books of Proclus on the Theology of Plato, to which a seventh Book is added by the Translator, in order to supply the deficiency of another Book on this subject, which was written by Proclus, but since lost. Also Proclus’s Elements of Theology. 2 vols. 4to. 5/. 10s. Select Works of Plotinus, and Extracts from Synesius on Providence. 8vo. 1 5s. FROM THE LATIN. The Fable of Cupid and Psyche from Apuleius, with an Introduction explaining the meaning of the Fable, and proving that it alludes to the descent of the Soul. 8vo. 5s. Proclus on Providence and Fate; Extracts from his Treatise entitled Ten Doubts concerning Providence ; and Extracts from his Treatise on the Subsistence of Evil; as preserved in the Bibliotheca Gr. of Fabricius. See Proclus on the The¬ ology of Plato. YII SDriffinal (BHorket. History of the Restoration of the Platonic Theology, by the genuine disciples of Plato. See the 2nd vol. of Proclus on Euclid. A Dissertation on the Eleusinian and Bacchic Mysteries, in which much new and important information, relative to those most venerable and august institutions, is given from Greek Manu¬ scripts. 8vo. 5s. A Second Edition of this work is printed in Nos. XV. and XVI. of the Pamphleteer. A complete Collection of all the existing Chaldaean Oracles, with concise explanations. See the 3d vol. of the Old Monthly Magazine. A Dissertation on Nullities and Diverging Series, in which Nullities are proved to be infinitely small quantities, and the Platonic doctrine of to ev, or the One , is illustrated. See the end of the first edition of the Translation of Aristotle's Meta¬ physics. An Answer to Dr. Gillies’s Supplement to his Translation of Aristotle's Ethics and Politics, in which the extreme unfaith¬ fulness of that translation is unfolded. 12mo. 2s. 6d. A poetical Paraphrase on the Speech of Diotima on the Beautiful, in the Banquet of Plato. See the Translation of the Fable of Cupid and Psyche. Hymns. See the before-mentioned Sallust, Julian, Plotinus, and Cupid and Psyche. A new edition of Hederic's Greek Lexicon, in which many words are inserted, not found in other modern Lexicons, and an Explanation is given of some words agreeably to the Plato¬ nic Philosophy. 4to. 1803. 2l. 2s. The Elements of the true Arithmetic of Infinites, in which all the Propositions in the Arithmetic of Infinites invented by Dr. Wallis, relative to the summation of infinite series, and also the principles of the doctrine of Fluxions, are demonstrated to be false; and the nature of Infinitesimals is unfolded, 4to. 5s. VIII Miscellanies in Prose and Verse ; containing the Triumph of the Wise Man over Fortune, according to the doctrine of the Stoics and Platonists ; The Creed of the Platonic Philoso¬ pher; A Panegyric on Sydenham, &c. &c. 12mo. 2s. 6d . A Dissertation on the Philosophy of Aristotle, in four Books ; in which his principal Physical and Metaphysical dogmas are unfolded ; and it is shown from indubitable evidence, that his Philosophy has not been accurately known since the destruction of the Greeks. The insufficiency also of the Philosophy that has been substituted by the moderns for that of Aristotle, is demonstrated. This volume was written as an Introduction to the Translation of Aristotle's works. 4to. 51. 5s. Theoretic Arithmetic, in three Books ; containing the sub¬ stance of all that has been written on this subject by Theo of Smyrna, Nicomachus, Iamblichus, and Boetius. — Together with some remarkable particulars respecting perfect, amicable, and other numbers, which are not to be found in the writings of any ancient or modern mathematicians. Likewise a specimen ©f the manner in which the Pythagoreans philosophized about numbers ; and a developement of their mystical and theologi- fcal arithmetic. 8vo. 14i. erratum. p. 161. note, for πλ*ιν read 7r«p. INTRODUCTION · The philosophy of Plato is deeply in¬ debted to two very extraordinary men, who rank among the chief of its leaders and hierophants, viz. Plotinus and Proclus ; to the former for its restoration, and to the latter for the complete developement of all its sublimities and mysteries. It is indeed a remarkable historical fact, though but little known, that the depths of this philosophy, as I have elsewhere observed,1 were not perfectly fathomed, 1 See the General Introduction to my translation of Platp, Plot » b INTRODUCTION. Λ i except by his immediate disciples, for more than five hundred years after its first pro¬ pagation. 1 For though Grantor, Atticus, ♦ 1 This fact must necessarily be very little known at pre¬ sent, as the philosophy of Plato is no longer studied as it was in ancient times, having become for many centuries obsolete. And yet it is no uncommon thing with the literati, and particularly with the critics of the present age, to decide with as much confidence on the dogmas of this philosophy, and on the writings of its most celebrated votaries, as on the nugatory and fungous productions of the day. These men forget, when they boast of having consumed the best part of their life in the study of the Greek and Latin languages, that philology is a very different thing from* philosophy, and that there is extreme danger in being well-grounded at great Grammar schools, of being at the same time well-ground . Their presumption however is by no means wonderful when we consider that they have been disciplined by the spectre of the Dunciad, “ Whose beaver’d brow a birchen garland wears. Dropping with infants’ blood, and mothers’ tears/’ And whose language is, • — — “ Since man from beast by words is known. Words are man’s province, words we teach alone. When Reason doubtful, like the Samian letter. INTRODUCTION. β VII Albinus, Galen and Plutarch, were men of great genius, and made no common pro¬ ficiency in philosophic attainments, yet they appear not to have developed the profundity of Plato's conceptions; they* withdrew not the veil which covers his secret meaning, like the 'curtains* which Points him two ways, the narrower is the better. Plac'd at the door of learning, youth to guide» We never suffer it to stand too wide . To ask, to guess, to know as they commence, As Fancy opens the quick springs of Sense, We ply the memory , we load the brain , Bind rebel Wit, and double chain on chain ; Confine the thought, to exercise the breath , And keep them in the pale of Words till death , Whate’er the talents, or howe’er design’d , We hang one jingling padlock on the wind . Punciad, Book IV. 3 Έπι των Χεγομενων τεΧετων, τα μεν α bvra ην, ως δηΧοι και τοννομα, τα be παραπετάσματα προβεβΧηνται, αθέατα τα εν tois abvrois <ρν\αττοντα, Psellus in Alleg. de Sphina viii INTRODUCTION, guarded the adytum of temples from the profane eye ; and they saw not that all behind the veil is luminous, and that there divine spectacles * every where present themselves to the view. This task was reserved for men who were born indeed in a baser age, but who being allotted a nature similar to their master were the true interpreters of his sublime and mystic speculations. Of these Plotinus was the leader, and to him this philosophy is in·* debted for its genuine restoration, and for that succession of philosophic heroes, who were luminous links of the golden chain of deity. The commencement indeed of this restoration of philosophy originated from Ammonius Saccas, but the completion of 1 See ray dissertation on the Eleusinian and Bacchie Mysteries in Numbers XV and XVI of the Pamphleteer. INTRODUCTION. IX « it was the work of Plotinus. For the former of these, who was by birth an Alex¬ andrian, and at first nothing more than a porter, opened a philosophical school at Alexandria, but with a determination not to commit the more abstruse and theologi¬ cal dogmas of his philosophy to writing. Indeed, this truly great man was so fearful of profaning these sublime mysteries, by exposing them to vulgar inspection, that he revealed them to his disciples Erennius, Origen, and Plotinus, on the condition of inviolable secrecy, and under the guard of irrevocable oaths. However, fortunately for posterity, Erennius dissolved the compact, and Origen (not the Christian father of that name) imitating Erennius, disclosed a part of his master s secrets, in a curious treatise on Daemons, which unfortunately is lost. But INTRODUCTION X the publications of these two great men were but trifling efforts to restore the mystic wisdom of antiquity, since the evolution of it into light free from the enigmas in which it had been before enve¬ loped, was reserved for the divine genius of Plotinus* ♦ Of this very extraordinary man there is a long and interesting life extant by his disciple Porphyry, from which the follow* ing particulars are selected for the informa¬ tion of the English reader* Plotinus was by birth an Egyptian, and was a native of Lycopolis, as we are in¬ formed by Eunapius ; for Porphyry is wholly silent as to this particular. Indeed, this is not wonderful, if we consider what INTRODUCTION. XI Porphyry asserts of him in the beginning of his life, viz. that he was ashamed that his soul was in body . Hence, says he, he would neither tell the race, nor the parents from whom he originated, nor would he patiently relate in what country he was born. This I know will be considered by a genuine modern, as either rank enthusiasm, or gross affectation ; but he who has fathomed the depth of his writings will immediately sub¬ scribe to its truth. The same vehement love for intellectual pursuits, and contempt for body, made him disdain to sit for his picture; so that when Amelias, one of his disciples* begged that he would permit his likeness to be taken, his answer expressed the true greatness of his mind : “ As if (says he) it was not sufficient to bear this image, with which nature has surrounded Xll INTRODUCTION. us, you think that a more lasting image of this image should be left as a work worthy to be inspected.” However, the wish of Amelius was at length accomplished, by the ingenious contrivance of one Carterius a painter, who by frequenting the school of Plotinus, and viewing his countenance with fixed attention, produced at length from his memory a happy likeness of the philosopher. Though he was often afflicted with the colic, he always refused the assist¬ ance of clysters, asserting that remedies of this kind were not fit for a man advanced in years. Nor would he ever receive the assistance of theriacal antidotes, since he said his nourishment was not derived from the bodies of even tame animals. He like¬ wise abstained from baths; but daily used frictions at home. But when a grievous INTRODUCTION* χία pestilence raged ‘ at Rome, and the servants who were accustomed to rub him* fell victims to the disease; from neglecting remedies of this kind, he gradually became a prey to the pestilence. So great was the violence of this distemper, and its effects so dreadful on Plotinus, as Eustochius in¬ formed Porphyry who was then absent, that through a very great hoarseness, all the clear and sonorous vigour of his musical voice was lost ; and what was still worse, his eyes were darkened, and his hands and feet were covered with ulcers. Hence, be¬ coming incapable of receiving the saluta- * This pestilence was in the time of the Emperor Gallienus, and raged so vehemently, according to Trebellius Pollio, that five thousand men perished through the same disease in one day. This happened in the year of Christ 262, and of Gallienus 9, 10 ; and not long after Porphyry applied him¬ self to Plotinus. XiV INTRODUCTION tions of his friends, he left the city, and went to Campania, to the estate of one Zethus, an ancient departed friend. Neces¬ saries were here administered to him from the hereditary possessions of Zethus, and were likewise brought from Minturnus, from the fields of Castricius. 1 But when this divine man drew near to his dissolu¬ tion, that period which is no less the dread of the vulgar than the transport of the philosopher, and which to Plotinus must have been the moment of extatic rapture, Eustochius, who dwelt at Puteolus, was not very hasty in his approaches ; doubtless not imagining that Plotinus was on the point of making his triumphant exit from a corporeal life. However, when he came 1 This is the Firmus Castricius to whom Porphyry in- scribes his treatise On Abstinence from Animal food. INTRODUCTION, XV into the presence of this departing hero, he was just in time to receive his dying words, and to preserve the sacred sentence to posterity. As yet (says he) I have ex·* x pected you , and now 1 endeavour · that my divine part may return to that divine nature which flourishes throughout the universe . Such were the last words of this mighty man, which like those contained in his writings, are great and uncommon, admir¬ able and sublime. He died at the conclu¬ sion of the second year of the reign of M· Aurelius Flavius Claudius ; and was at the time of his death in the sixty-sixth year of his age, according to the information given to Porphyry by Eustochius. Porphyry afterwards informs us, in perfect agreement with the genius of Plotinus, that he would never tell to any one, the month, or day INTRODUCTION. Nvi in which he was born ; because he by no means thought it proper that his nativity should be celebrated with sacrifices and « banquets. Indeed we cannot suppose that he who had such a vehement contempt for a corporeal life» would be anxious that his entrance into mortality should be solem¬ nized with festivity ; but rather, considering himself with Empedocles, as Heaven's exile straying from the orb of light. he would be disposed to lament his capti» vity, and mourn the degradation of his nature. However, he was not averse to celebrate the nativities of Socrates and Plato ; for he assisted at the sacred rites, ahd invited his friends to a philosophic v * · banquet, where it was required that every introduction; XVII guest should recite a written oration, adapt¬ ed to the occasion of their amicable associa¬ tion. The few particulars which this great man condescended to relate of himself in familiar discourse, are the following : when he was eight years of age, and was even under the tuition of a literary preceptor, he used to frequent his nurse, and uncover her breasts, through an avidity of sucking her milk. And this custom he continued, till being accused of troublesomeness, and covered with shame through the reproof, he abandoned this extraordinary custom. This story, however trifling it may appear, indicates in my opinion, the native inno¬ cence, and genuine simplicity of manners which so eminently marked the character XV111 INTRODUCTION. of Plotinus. When he was in the twenty- eighth year of his age, being vehemently inflamed with the love of philosophy, he wras recommended to the most excellent masters of Alexandria; but he left their schools with sorrow and disappointment. By a fortunate event however, he told a certain friend, who was well acquainted with the disposition of his mind, the cause of his affliction, and he brought him to the celebrated Ammonias, whose school Ploti¬ nus had probably overlooked, among the great multitude with which that illustrious city abounded. But when he entered the school of Ammonias, and heard him philo¬ sophize, he exclaimed in transport to his friend, this is the man I have been seeking. Prom that day he gave himself up to Am¬ monias with sedulous attention for eleven INTRODUCTION. XIX 5Tears ; and made such rapid advances in his philosophy, that he determined to study also the philosophy of the Persians, and the wisdom particularly cultivated by the Indian sages. For this purpose, when the Emperor Gordian marched into Persia, in order to war upon that nation, Plotinus joined himself to the army, being at that time in the nine and thirtieth }^ear of his age. But after Gordian was destroyed about Mesopotamia, Plotinus fled to Antioch, where he received a fortunate shelter from the dangers and devastations * of war ; and in the reign of the Emperor Philip came to Rome, in the fortieth year of his age. It was a long time before Plotinus com» mitted his thoughts to writing; and gave XX INTRODUCTION. the world a copy of his inimitable mind. That light which was shortly to illuminate mankind, as yet shone with solitary splen¬ dor, or at best beamed only on a beloved few. It was now, however, destined to emerge from its sanctuary, and to display its radiance with unbounded diffusion. But a disciple like Porphyry, was requisite to the full perfection of its appearance. Amelius was indeed laborious, but he was at the same time verbose. He neither appears to have possessed the inquisitive spirit, nor the elegant genius of Porphyry ; and his commentaries were too voluminous f * to be exquisitely good. Porphyry gives a singular specimen of his endurance of labor, when he informs us that he committed to writing almost all the dogmas of Numenius, find retained a very considerable part of INTRODUCTION. XXI them in his memory. lie was not however, though an excellent philosopher, calculated to urge Plotinus to write, or to assist him in writing; hut this important task was reserved for Porphyry, who, in the words of Eunapius, “ like a Mercurial chain let down for the benefit of mortals, by the assistance of universal erudition, explained every thing with clearness and precision/' Ploti¬ nus, indeed, began to write in the first year of the Emperor Galienus ; and he con¬ tinued to note such questions as occurred to him, for the ten following years, in the last of which he became acquainted with Porphyry, who was at that time in the thirtieth year of his age. He had then composed one-and-twenty books, which were in the hands but of a few : for the edition was difficult to be procured, and Plot . c INTRODUCTION. xxii was not universally known. Besides, Ploti¬ nus was neither hasty nor rash in his publi¬ cations ; but he gave those only to the light, which had been approved by a mature and deliberate judgment. The one- and-twenty books we have just mentioned, after various inscriptions, at length obtain*· ed the following titles. On the Beautiful. Ennead I. lib. 6. On the Immortality of the Soul. IV. 7® On Fate. III. 1. On the Essence of the Soul. IV. I, On Intellect, Ideas, and Being. V. On the Descent of the Soul into Bodies. IV. 8. IIow things posterior to the First, proceed from the First, and on the One. V. 4. Whether all Souls are one 1 IV. 9. On the Good , or the One. VI. 9. On the three Hypostases that rank as the Principles of Things, V. 1. On the Generation and Order of Things posterior to the First. V. INTRODUCTION. XXIII On the two Matters [i. e. the Intelligible and the Sensible}. II. 4. Various Considerations. III. 9. On the Circular Motion of the Heavens. II. 2. On the Daemon allotted to us» III. 4. On the reasonable Exit from the present Life. I. 9® On Quality. II. 6. Whether there are Ideas of Particulars. V. 7® On the Virtues. Ϊ, 2. On Dialectic. I. 3. How the Soul is said to be a medium between an impart¬ ible and partible Essence. IV. 2. These one-and-twenty books were finish¬ ed when Porphyry first became acquainted with Plotinus ; and when this great man was fifty-nine years old. During the six years in which Porphyry was his companion as well as disciple, many questions of a very abstruse nature were discussed in their philosophical conversations, which, at the joint request of Porphyry and Amelius^ XXIV INTRODUCTION. Plotinus committed to writing, and produ¬ ced from their investigation, two elaborate and admirable books, On true being, demon¬ strating that it is every where one and the same whole. Ennead vi. lib. 4, 5. And afterwards he wrote two others, one of which shows, That the nature which is beyond being is not intellective , and what that is which is primarily , and also that which is secondarily intellective. Ennead v. 6. But the other is, On that which is in capacity , and that which is in energy. Ennead ii. 5. He likewise wrote the following; books : O On the impassivity of Incorporeal Natures. 1 Ennead III. 6. 1 It is strange that Fabricius should think this treatise ought to be entitled, ττ epi της ατταΟείας των σωμάτων , On the Impassivity of Bodies. For the man of intellect who reads it, must immediately see that such a title would be ridiculous. INTRODUCTION. XXV On the Soul, two Rooks. IV. 3. 4. On the Soul, a third Rook, or On the manner in which we see. IV. 5. On Contemplation. III. 8. On Intelligible Reautv. V. 8. That Intelligibles are not external to Intellect ; and con¬ cerning Intellect and the Good. V. 5. Against the Gnostics. II. 9· On Numbers. VI. 6. Why things seen at a distance appear to be small. II. 8. Whether Felicity consists in an extension of Time. I. 5. On total Mixture. II. 7· How the multitude of Ideas subsists, and concerning the Good, VI. 7- On the Voluntary. VI. 8. On the World. II. 1. On Sense and Memory. IV. 6 . On the Genera of Reings, three Rooks. VI. 1. 2. 3« On Eternity and Time. III. 7» But while Porphyry resided in Sicily, and about the fifteenth year of the Emperor Galienus, Plotinus composed the five following Books, which he sent to Porphyry for his revision. XXVI INTRODUCTION. On Felicity. Ennead I. 4® On Providence, two Books. III. 2. 3. On Gnostic Hypostases, and that which is beyond thena. IV. 3. ' On Love. III. 5. These books were transmitted to Por¬ phyry in the first year of the Emperor Claudius1 reign. And about the beginning of the second year, and a little before his death, he sent him the following, and the last : On what things are Evil, and whence Evils originate. Ennead I. lib. 8. Whether the Stars effect any thing. H. 3. What Man is, and what Animal is? I. 1. On the first Good, and other Goods. I. f. The whole amount therefore, of the books written by Plotinus, connecting the preced¬ ing with those just enumerated, is fifty-four, INTRODUCTION. χχνη which Porphyry has divided into six enneads, assigning, agreeably to the mean¬ ing of the word, nine books to every entiead. But they bear evident marks, says Porphyry, of the different periods, at which they were composed. For the first one-and-twenty, which were written in the former part of his life, if compared with the next in order, seem to possess an infe¬ rior power, and to be deficient in strength. But those composed in the middle of his life, exhibit the vigour of power, and the acme of perfection. And such with a few exceptions are the four-and-twenty we have already enumerated. The last nine how¬ ever, which were composed in the decline of life, bear the marks of remitted energy, and drooping vigour. And this the four XXV1U INTRODUCTION, last exhibit more evidently than the preced¬ ing five. Plotinus had many auditors, and likewise a multitude of zealous partizans, and philo¬ sophic familiars. Among the latter of these, Amelins the Tuscan, and Paulinus the Scythopolitan, a physician, held a dis¬ tinguished rank. To which may be added Eustochius of Alexandria, a physician, who enjoyed the familiarity of Plotinus to the last, was present at his death, and giving himself entirely to the doctrines of Plotinus, assumed the habit of a genuine philosopher. Besides these Zothicus, a critic and poet, was conversant with Ploti¬ nus, who amended the works of Anti- machus, and rendered the Atlantic history INTRODUCTION. XXIX very poetically in verse ; but after this he became blind, and died a short time prior to Plotinus. Zethus, too, was very familiar with our philosopher, who derived his orioin from Arabia, and married the wife of one Theodosius, the familiar of Ammonius. This Zethus was deeply skilled in medicine, and very much be¬ loved by Plotinus, who endeavoured to dissuade him from engaging; in the adminis- o O O tration of public affairs. Such indeed, was his familiarity with our philosopher that, as we have already observed, Plotinus spent the last hours of his life at his rural retreat. Porphyry likewise informs us, that not a few senators were the sedulous auditors of Plotinus. Phil osophy indeed, as it is the most noble and liberal of all pursuits, ought never to be separated from noble birth and XXX INTRODUCTION. exalted rank. It is naturally allied to every thing great, and is calculated to confer dignity, even on greatness itself. It exalts the majesty of the monarch, stamps nobility with true grandeur, and raises the plebeian to immortality. Among this illustrious body of men, Marcellus Orontius diligently applied himself to philosophy, and made rapid advances in its attainment. This too was the case with Sabinillus, and above all with the senator Rogatianus.1 So deeply 1 This Rogatianus is doubtless the person to whom Por¬ phyry alludes in his treatise On Abstinence, lib. i. p. 106. in the following passage : " There was once an instance, where a negligence of terrene concerns, and a contemplation and intuition of such as are divine, expelled an articular disease, which had infested a certain person for the space of eight years. So that at the very same time, that his soul was divested of a solicitous concern for riches, and corporeal affairs, his body was freed from a troublesome disease." What Porphyry here says is perfectly conformable to the INTRODUCTION XXXI enamoured was this last-mentioned noble¬ man of the charms of wisdom, and the discourses of Plotinus, and so attentive to the care of separating his soul from his corporeal life, that he neglected his wrealth and secular affairs, dismissed his servants, and rejected the dignities of the state. Hence, when he was chosen praetor, and the lictors waited for his appearance, he neither came into public, nor regarded the duties of his office, nor dwelt in the house allotted for his reception ; but he supt and slept with certain of his friends and fami¬ liars, and gave himself to absolute retire¬ ment in the day. By this negligence and carelessness of life, (says Porphyry) from Chaldaean oracle, ** By extending a fiery (i. e. a divine) intellect to the work of piety, you will preserve the flowing body/' XX XII INTR0DUC Γ ION. beins; so vehemently afflicted with the gout, that he was obliged to be carried in a chair, he resumed his pristine strength and vigor. And from being so diseased in his hands* that he could not extend them when necessary, he so recovered their use by philosophic endurance, that he could em¬ ploy them with greater expedition than the manual mechanic. This great man, as we may. suppose, possessed a principal place in the esteem of Plotinus, who was not sparing in his praise of so uncommon a character, and proposed him as an illus¬ trious example to the pupils of philosophy. Happy Rogatianus ! who could relinquish power for knowledge, and prefer the per¬ petual inheritance of wisdom to the gaudy splendors of title, and the fleeting honors of command. Alexand-rinus Serapion, too, INTRODUCTION. xxxm was one of his associates, who was at first a rhetorician, bat afterwards gave himself to philosophical discussions; though, shame¬ ful to relate, he was at the same time a slave to usuiy and avarice.1 Besides all 1 Aristotle, in his Nicomachean Ethics, has shewn with his usual accuracy, that avarice is worse than profusion. First, because it is incurable. For it is the vice of old age, and increases with age. It is also manifold, and has nothing; in common with liberality. In the third place, it is not useful to any one, not even to him who labours under it. Hence the proverb, that the avaricious man never benefits, but when he dies ; for then he begins to be useful. And in the fourth place, men more frequently sin in this vice than in that of profusion. But prodigality is less a vice than avarice, hist, because it may be easily cured and corrected, partly by increase of age, and partly by a defect of wealth. For poverty at. length compels the prodigal to stop his profusion. And in the next place, prodigality is more allied to liberality than avarice ; so far as, by giving, it is also useful to others ; and on that account it is likewise sometimes praised. In short, if there is not any thing more excellent than goodness, and because there is not, we call God goodness itself , and if the very essence of goodness consists in imparting in a be- XXXIV INTRODUCTION· these, says Porphyry, he reckoned me, a native of Tyre, among his most friendly adherents, and whom he also appointed to correct his writings. The following particulars relative to composition are related by Porphyry of this extraordinary man. He could by no means endure to review twice what he had written, nor even to read his composition, through the badness of his sight. But while he was writing he neither formed the the letters with accuracy, nor exactly distinguished the syllables, nor bestowed any diligent attention on the orthography ; but neglecting all these as trifles, he was alone attentive to the intellection of his coming manner, there cannot be any thing worse than avarice, since the very essence of it consists in failing to give. INTRODUCTION. XXXV wonderful mind ; and, to the admiration of all his disciples, persevered in this custom to the end of his life. To the mere critic and philologist, Plotinus will doubtless appear inexcusable for such important omissions ; but to the sublime and con¬ templative genius, his negligence will be considered as the result of vehement con¬ ception, and profound ratiocination. Such, indeed, was the power of his intellect, that when he had once conceived the whole disposition of his thoughts from the begin¬ ning to the end, and had afterwards committed them to writing, his composition was so connected, that he appeared to be merely transcribing from a book. Hence he would discuss his domestic affairs with¬ out departing from the actual intention of his mind ; and at one and the same time XXXVI INTRODUCTION. transact the necessary negotiations of friendship, and preserve an uninterrupted survey of the things he had proposed to consider. In consequence of this uncom¬ mon power of intellection, when he returned to writing, after the departure of the person with whom he had been conversing, he did O not review what he had written, owing, as we have observed, to the defect of Ids sight ; and yet he so connected the preceding with the subsequent conceptions, as if his composition had never been interrupted. Hence he was at the same time present with others and with himself, so that as Por¬ phyry observes, the self-converted energy of his intellect was never remitted, except perhaps in sleep, which the paucity of his food (for he frequently abstained even from bread) and his incessant conversion to INTRODUCTION. XXXV11 intellect, contributed in no small degree to expel. Several women also vehemently admired the doctrines of Plotinus ; and also many noble persons of both sexes, when at the r point of death, committed their children and all their property to Plotinus, as to a certain sacred and divine guardian. Hence, says Porphyry, the house of Plotinus was filled with boys and virgins, (among the number of which was Potamon) whom he educated with diligence and care. Nor was he wearied in hearing the procurators of his pupils, rendering an account of their conduct, or paying an accurate attention to the expenditure of their income, affirming, that as they did not yet philosophize, they ought to possess their own property, and Plot . d XXXV111 INTRODUCTION. receive their annual rents without detriment. Yet though he was so attentive to his pupils in the necessary concerns of life, the intel¬ lectual energy of his soul while he was awake, never suffered any interruption from externals, nor any remission of vigor. He was likewise extremely mild in his man¬ ners, and was easy of access to all his friends and adherents. Hence, so great was his philosophic urbanity, that though he resided at Rome six-and-twenty years, and had been the arbitrator of many litigious causes, which he amicably dissolved, yet he had no enemy throughout that vast and illustrious city. But though Plotinus was so greatly esteemed at Rome, and in general by all who had the happiness of his acquaintance, INTRODUCTION. XXXIX yet he had one vehement enemy in the person of Alexandrinus Olympius, who had been for a short time the disciple of Ammonius, and who arrogantly conceived himself to be the first of philosophers, and conducted himself contemptuously towards Plotinus. So deadly, indeed, was his hatred of our philosopher, that he attempted to invade him, by drawing down, through magical arts, the baneful influences of the stars. The attempt was however vain, and noxious to its author. For the sidereal defluxions, instead of being hurtful to Plotinus, were reflected on Olympius. Hence he exclaimed to his companions, “ that the soul of Plotinus possessed such a mighty power, that it immediately repelled malignant influences directed upon his person, on the authors of the evil/' But xi INTRODUCTION. Plotinus, when Olympius first machinated his sidereal inchantments, was conscious of his design, and said to his friends : 64 Now the body of Olympius is contracted like a purse, and all his members are bruised together.” After Olympius, therefore, had often found to his own detriment, that the baneful influences intended for Plotinus were repelled on himself, he desisted from such base and fruitless undertakings. Indeed, says Porphyry, Plotinus naturally possessed something greater than the rest of mankind, which the following extraordinary relation abundantly evinces. A certain Egyptian priest, who at that time was at Rome, and who became known to Plotinus through oneof his friends (perhaps Porphyry himself), being desirous to exhibit his wisdom in that illustrious city, persuaded our INTRODUCTION» xli philosopher to attend him, for the purpose of beholding, through his invocations, his familiar daemon ; to which request Plotinus readily consented. But the invocation was performed in the temple of Isis ; this being the only pure place in Rome the Egyptian priest was able to find. However, instead of a daemon, as was expected, a God ap¬ proached, who was not, says Porphyry, in the genus of daemons. The Egyptian astonished at the unexpected event ex¬ claimed, “ Happy Plotinus, who hast a God for a daemon,1 and whose familiar 1 “ The most perfect souls (says Proclus in MS. Com* ment. in Alcibiad. I.) who are conversant with generation in ^n undefiled manner, as they choose a life conformable to their presiding God, so they live according to a divine daemon, who conjoined them to their proper deity when they dwelt on high. Hence, the Egyptian priest admired Plotinus, as being governed by a divine daemon,” And prior to this he observes, that the first and highest daemons are divine* xlii INTRODUCTION. attendant does not rank among the inferior kind !” This extraordinary, however, and delightful vision was of short duration. For the priest affirmed, that it was not then lawful to ask any question, or any longer to enjoy the vision because a certain friend who was present at the spectacle, suffocated some birds which he held in his hands for the sake of safety, either impelled by envy a or terrified through fear. As Plotinus therefore was allotted a daemon belonging to the diviner orders, the divine eye of his soul was perpetually elevated to this guardian deity. On this account, he composed a book, On the Daemons which are allotted to us, in which he diligently^ and who often appear as Gods, through their transcendent similitude to the divinities. For that which is first in every order preserves the form of the nature prior to itself." INTRODUCTION. xliii endeavours to assign the causes of the diversity subsisting among these attendants on mankind. Plotinus likewise appears to have pos¬ sessed a most extraordinary skill in physi¬ ognomy, as is evinced by the following circumstance. A lady named Chion, who together with her daughters resided in his house, and there happily passed a chaste widowhood, was fraudulently de¬ prived of a very valuable necklace. In consequence of this, all the servants and domestics were summoned into the presence of Plotinus, who regarded their several countenances, selected one of them, and accused him of the theft. The man was immediately chastized, and for some time denied the fact, but at length confessed his xllv INTRODUCTION. guilt, and restored the necklace. In a similar manner (says Porphyry) he wonder¬ fully predicted the destiny of the young men of his acquaintance ; as of one Polemo, he foretold, that he would be very much addicted to love, and would live but for a short time, which happened according to his prediction. But the last instance of his sagacity, related by Porphyry, excels all the rest, both in the singular skill which it displays, and the happy consequences it produced. Porphyry, as we are informed by Eunapius in his life of him, on his first acquaintance with Plotinus, bade a final farewell to all his preceptors, and wholly applied himself to the friendship and con¬ fidence of this wonderful man. Here he filled his mind with science, and drew abundantly without satiety, from the per- INTRODUCTION. xlv ennial fountain, seated in the sanctuary of the soul of Plotinus. But afterwards, being vanquished as it were, by the magni¬ tude of his doctrines, he conceived a hatred of body, and could no longer endure the fetters of mortality. δέ Hence,” says Por¬ phyry, ce 1 formed an intention of destroying myself, which Plotinus perceived, and as I was walking home stood before me, and said that my design was not the dictate of a sound intellect, but was the effect of a certain melancholy disease. In consequence of this, he ordered me to depart from Rome, and accordingly I went to Sicily, particu¬ larly as I heard that a certain worthy and elegant man dwelt at that time about LiljT- baeum. And thus indeed I was liberated from this [deadly] intention, but was hindered from being present with Plotinus till his death.” xlvi INTRODUCTION. Bat the great reputation of this divine man was not confined to the senate and people of Rome : for the emperor GaTienus and his wife Salonina, honored his person and reverenced his doctrine. Indeed, so highly was he esteemed by the emperor, that relying on his benevolence, he re¬ quested that a city in Campania, which had been formerly destroyed, might be re- stored, and rendered a fit habitation for philosophers ; and besides this that it might be governed by the laws of Plato, and called Platonopolis. The emperor indeed assented to his wishes, and the philosopher would have easily accomplished his inten¬ tions, if some of the emperor’s familiars, impelled by envy or indignation, or some other depraved cause, had not impeded its execution. INTRODUCTION xlvii This very extraordinary man, as we are informed by Porphyry, was strenuous in discourse, and most powerful in discovering and conceiving what was appropriate; but in certain words he was incorrect. While he was speaking however, there was an evident indication of the predominance of intellect in his conceptions. For the light of it diffused itself as far as to his counten¬ ance, which was indeed at all times lovely, but was then particular^ beautiful. For then a certain attenuated and dewy mois¬ ture appeared on his face, and a pleasing mildness shone forth. Then, also, he exhibited a placid gentleness in receiving questions, and demonstrated a vigor un¬ commonly robust in the solution of them. When Porphyry once had interrogated him for three days, on the manner in which the Ί · ι» · xlviii INTRODUCTION. soul is present with the body, he persevered in demonstrating the inode of its conjunc¬ tion. And when a certain person, named Thaumasius, entered his school, for the purpose of discussing general questions in philosophy, and premised that he wished to hear Plotinus explain the books that were read in his school, but that he was prevented by the questions and answers of Porphyry, Plotinus replied ; 64 Unless we dissolve the doubts of Porphyry, we shall not be able to explain any thing in the book which you wish us to make the sub¬ ject of discussion,’5 He wrote as he spoke, strenuously 1 and with abundance of intel¬ lect. His style also is concise, and abounds more with profundity of conception than s Id the original σύντομος ; but from what follow 5, it is evident that it should be σύντονος „ introduction. xlix copiousness of words. “ He poured forth many things, says Porphyry, under the influence of inspiration; and was wonder¬ fully affected with the subjects he discussed. The latent dogmas of the Stoics and Peri¬ patetics, are mingled in his writings; and he has condensed in them the metaphysics of Aristotle. He was n.ot ignorant of any geometrical, arithmetical, mechanical, optical, or musical theorem, though he never applied these sciences to practical purposes. The commentaries of the Platonic philosophers, Cronius, Numenius, Gaius, Atticus, &c. ; as also of the Peri¬ patetics, Aspasius, Alexander, Adrasius, * &c. were read in his school ; but he bor¬ rowed nothing whatever from these. For his conceptions were entirely his own, and his theory was different from theirs. In his investigations he exhibited the intellect 1 INTRODUCTION. of Ammonius. He was also rapidly filled with what he read ; and having in a few words given the meaning of a profound theory, he arose. Having once read the treatise of Longinus 44 concerning princi¬ ples,” he said 44 that Longinus was indeed a philologist, but by no means a philoso¬ pher/' When in the celebration of Plato's nativity, Porphyry recited a poem which he called 44 the Sacred Marriage,”1 and a 1 According to the Orphic theology as we learn from Proclus, that divinity who is the cause of stable power and sameness, the supplier of being, and the first principle of conversion to all things, is of a male characteristic ; but the divinity which emits from itself all-various progressions, separations, measures of life, and prolific powers, is feminine. And a communication of energies between the two, was denominated by this theology a sacred marriage. Proclus adds, “ that theologists at one time perceiving this com¬ munion in co-ordinate Gods, called it the marriage of Jupi¬ ter and Juno, Heaven and Earth, Saturn and Rhea. But at another time surveying it in the conjunction of subordinate with superior Gods, they called it the marriage of Jupiter and Ceres. And at another, perceiving it in the union of INTRODUCTION, li certain person who was present observed that Porphyry was mad, because many things were said in the poem mystically and latently, accompanied with a divine afflatus, Plotinus openly exclaimed, “ You have shown yourself at the same time a poet, a philosopher, and an hierophant.** On a certain time too, an orator named Diophanes read an apology for the intoxi¬ cated Alcibiades in the Banquet of Plato, endeavouring to prove that it was proper for the sake of learning virtue, that the lover should expose himself to the object of his attachment, and not even refuse venereal congress. But while he was reading this licentious defence, Plotinus often rose superior with inferior divinities, they denominated it the marriage of Jupiter and Proserpine/' Vid. Prod, in Tim, et in Parmenid, INTRODUCTION. lii from his seat, as if he would suddenly leave the assembly ; but he restrained himself till it was finished. However, when he left the company, he desired Porphyry to con¬ fute the oration. But when Porphyry requested the orator to lend him his discourse for this purpose, and was refused, he answered him from recollection, and delivered his answer in the presence of the same auditors as had attended Diophanes. On this occasion Plotinus was so delighted, that he often repeated in the assembly. “ Thus write and you’ll illuminate mankind/’ * Plotinus likewise applied himself to the canons concerning the stars, but not 1 A line somewhat altered from Homer. The original a.LK€v τι φοως Δαναοισι γενηαι. Iliad, 8. v. 282. INTRODUCTION. 3iii according to a very mathematical mode. That is, we may presume, he very little regarded the calculation of eclipses, or measuring the distance of the sun and moon from the earth, or determining the magnitudes and velocities of the planets. * For he considered employments of this kind, as more the province of the mathe¬ matician, than of the profound and intel¬ lectual philosopher. The mathematical sciences are indeed the proper means of acquiring wisdom, but they ought never to be considered as its end. They are the bridge as it were between sense and intellect, by which we may safely pass through the night of oblivion, over the dark and stormy ocean of matter, to the lucid V regions of the intelligible world. And he who is desirous of returning to his true INTRODUCTION. llV country, will speedily pass over this bridge without making any needless delays in his passage. But he more accurately investi¬ gated the doctrine of Astrologers about the influences of the stars, and not finding their predictions to be certain, he frequently confuted them in his writings. ·? g , ,· <'-· , *> r « 1 * · At that time there were many Christians and others, who forsaking the ancient philosophers became the followers of Adelphius and Aquilinus. These men possessed many writings of Alexander Libycus, Philocomus, Demostratus, and Lydus ; and openly exhibited certain revelations of Zoroaster, Zostrianus, Nico- theus, Allogenes, Mesus, and others of a like kind. They also deceived many, and were themselves deceived, asserting that INTRODUCTION, Iv Plato had by no means penetrated the depth of an intelligible essence. On this occasion, Plotinus urged many arguments in his conferences against these impostors, and composed a treatise in confutation of their tenets, which Porphyry inscribed against the Gnostics/1 But A melius wrote forty books against the treatise of Zostrianus; and Porphyry showed by a variety of argu« ments that the book which they attributed to Zoroaster was spurious and recent, and was fabricated by the propagators of the heresy, in order that their opinions might pass for the genuine dogmas of the ancient Zoroaster. >' i , . l ' . Porphyry farther informs us, that some Greeks falsely accused Plotinus of being a plagiary of the doctrines of Numenius ; Ivi INTRODUCTION* which calumny Tryphon, a Stoic and Pla~ tonist, told to Amelias* On this occasion Amelius wrote a treatise* inscribed by Porphyry* on the difference between the dogmas of Plotinus and Numenius , which he dedicated to Porphyry* Each of the books indeed of this truly great man bears such evident marks of original thought and singular depth* the execution in each is so similar* and the conceptions so uncom¬ monly abstruse* that no one can under¬ stand his meaning, and believe him indebted to the labours of others* Porphyry adds, that he was likewise considered by many as a mere trifler, and treated with contempt, because, says he, they could by no means understand what he said* Besides, the manners of Plotinus contributed to produce and increase this disdain* For he was INTRODUCTION. Ivii foreign from all sophistical ostentation and pride; and conducted himself, in the com» pany of disputants, with the same freedom and ease as in his familiar discourses. With the superficial and the vain indeed, a haughty carriage and severe aspect are considered as the badges of wisdom ; but nothing in reality is more foreign from its possession. For true wisdom when it is deeply possessed, gives affability and modesty to the manners, illumines the countenance with a divine serenity, and diffuses over the whole external form an air of dignity and ease. Add to this, that Plotinus did not hastily disclose to every one the syllogistic necessities which were latent in his discourse. “ The same thing,” says Porphyry, i( happened to me, when I first heard Plotinus. On which account X kill . INTRODUCTION. endeavoured to excite him by writing against him* and striving to show that intellections are external to intellect” But after the writings of Porphyry on this subject were read to Plotinus, he said smiling : “ It must be your employment, Amelias* to dissolve these doubts, occa¬ sioned by his ignorance of our opinion*” After Amelias, therefore, had composed no small treatise against the objections of Por¬ phyry, and Porphyry had again contradicted his writings, and was once more answered by Amelias ; u At length/" says Porphyry, 66 having scarcely after all these attempts fathomed the depth 8 of Plotinus, I 1 it therefore a man of such great sagacity and penetra¬ tion as Porphyry, and who from the period in which he lived possessed advantages with respect to the attainment of phi¬ losophy which are denied to every modern, found so much difficulty in fathoming the profundity of Plotiuus, there must INTRODUCTION. lix changed my opinion, wrote a recantation of my error, which I recited in his school ; considered the books of Plotinus ever after as most worthy of belief, and excited my master to the ambition of disclosing his opinions in a more particular and copious manner/' The testimony of the celebrated Longinus also concerning our philosopher, sufficiently evinces his uncommon excellence and *■ fc ■· ■ - (·. «ί , necessarily be very few at present by whom this can be accomplished. Let no one therefore deceive himself by fancying that he can understand the writings of Plotinus by barely reading them. For as the subjects which he discusses are for the most part the objects of intellect alone* to under¬ stand them is to see them, and to see them is to come into contact with them. But this is only to be accomplished by kmg familiarity with, and a life conformable to the things themselves. For then, as Plato says, INTRODUCTION. Ixix \ and this by an ineffable energy, and not in capacity. The oracle also adds, that while Plotinus was wandering [on the sea of life] the Gods frequently directed him into the right path, by benignantly extending to him abundant rays of divine light; so that he may be said to have composed his works from the contemplation and intuition of divinity. But from a vigilant internal and external contemplation, he is said by the · . ■ _ v . · oracle to have seen many beautiful specta¬ cles, which no other philosopher has easily beheld. For merely human contemplation may indeed have various degrees of excel¬ lence, but when compared with divine knowledge, though it may be elegant and pleasing, yet cannot fathom a depth, such as is penetrated by the Gods. Hitherto the oracle has shown what were the energies Plot . . f INTRODUCTION* of Plotinus, and what he obtained, while surrounded with body. But after his libe¬ ration from body, it declares that he arrived at the divine society, where friendship, pure desire, joy and love, suspended from deity, perpetually reign. Besides this, it also says that the sons of God, Minos, Rhada- manthus, and iEacus, are the judges of 0 souls ; and that Plotinus departed to these, not for the purpose of receiving their decisions of his conduct, but to enjoy their conversation, with whom also other Gods of the most excellent kind associate. It further says that Plato and Pythagoras likewise reside here, together with such other souls as stably form the choir of immortal love ; and that the most blessed daemons have here fixed their abode. And in the last place it adds, that the life of this INTRODUCTION® Ixxi divine society is ever flourishing, and full of joy, and perseveres in perpetuity of bliss through the beneficent communications of the Gods/' * I And thus much for the life of Plotinus, who was a philosopher pre-eminently distin¬ guished for the strength and profundity of his intellect, and the purity and elevation of his life. He was a being wise without the usual mixture of human darkness, and great without the general combination of human weakness and imperfection. He seems to have left the orb of light solely for the benefit of mankind ; that he might teach them how to repair the ruin contract¬ ed by their exile from good, and how to return to their true country, and legitimate kindred and allies. I do not mean that he 1e * XXII lKTKOi)UCTl0Ne descended into mortality, for the purpose of unfolding the sublimest truths to the vulgar part of mankind ; for this would have been a vain and ridiculous attempt ; 1 1 In every class of beings in the universe (as I have else¬ where observed) there is a first, a middle, and a last, in order that the progression of things may form one unbroken chain, originating from deity, and terminating in matter. In con¬ sequence of this connexion, one part of the human species naturally coalesces, through transcendency, with beings of an order superior to man ; another part, through diminution, unites with the brutal species ; and a third part, which sub¬ sists as the connecting medium between the other two, possesses those properties which characterize human nature in a manner not exceeding but exactly commensurate to the condition of humanity. The first of these parts, from its surpassing excellence, consists of a small number of mankind. That which subsists as the middle, is numerous. But that which ranks as the last in gradation, is composed of a count¬ less multitude, “ Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks In Vallombrosa.,' In consequence of this beautiful gradation, the most subor¬ dinate part of mankind arc only to be benefited by good INTRODUCTION. ke ο β X 11 1 since the eyes of the multitude, as Plato justly observes, are not strong enough to look to truth. But he came as a guide to * the few who are born with a divine destiny; gain the lost region of light, but know not how to break the fetters by which they are detained : who are impatient to leave the obscure cavern of sense, where all is delusion and rulers, laws, and customs, through which they become peace» able members of the communities in which they live, and make a proficiency, as Maximus Tyrius well observes, not by any accession of good, but by a diminution of evil. Hence the present efforts to enlighten by education the lowest class of mankind is an attempt to break the golden chain of beings, to disorganise society, and to render the vulgar dis¬ satisfied with the servile situations in which God and nature intended them to be placed. In short, it is an attempt cal¬ culated to render life intolerable, and knowledge contemp¬ tible, to subvert all order, introduce anarchy, render super¬ stition triumphant, and restore, in the language of Pope, the throne of — u Night primaeval and of Chaos o Ixxiv INTRODUCTIONS shadow, and to ascend to the realms of intellect, where all is substance and reality. This very extraordinary man also appears to have been the first of the Platonic philosophers, who clearly and distinctly asserted the subsistence of the three hypos¬ tases that rank as principles ( αρχικοα υποσ-τα- (rsig) viz. the good9 intellect , and soul , and who demonstrated that there can be neither more nor less than these. But these three are thus denominated, because they are not consubsistent ; and they are not consub- sistent, because they are essentially different from each other. For according to Plato the good is superessential ; intellect is an impartible , immoveable essence ; and soul is a self-motive essence, and subsists as a medium between intellect and the nature INTRODUCTION. Ixxv which is distributed about bodies.1 By no means therefore is the Platonic the same with the Christian trinity, as the advocates for the latter have ignorantly and idly supposed. For the good or the highest God according to Plato being so perfectly exempt from all multitude, that he is even beyond essence, is not to be cormumerated * with any thing, or to be co-arranged with the second and third principles in the above- mentioned or any other triad. Indeed, according to the philosophy of Plato, as I have elsewhere shown, in every order of 1 See my translation of Proclus' Elements of Theology, where all this is shown by geometrical necessities to be true. See also the bth book of the Republic of Plato, in which Socrates clearly asserts that the good is superessential ; and the Timaeus, in which the difference between intellect and soul is most clearly indicated. See likewise the notes on the 3d Epistle of Plato in Vol, V. of my translation of hijg works. Ixxvi INTRODUCTION. things a triad is the immediate progeny of a monad. Hence the intelligible triad proceeds immediately from the ineffable principle of things. Phanes, or intelligible intellect, who is the last of the intelligible order, is the monad, leader, and producing cause of a triad, which is denominated νοητός και vospog, i. e. intelligible , and at the same time intellectual . In like manner the extremity of this order produces immedi¬ ately from itself the intellectual triad, Saturn, Rhea, and Jupiter. Again, Jupiter, who is also the demiurgus, is the monad of the supermundane triad. Apollo, who subsists at the extremity of the supermun¬ dane order, produces a triad of liberated Gods. (Seoi απόλυτό*.) And the extremity of the liberated order becomes the monad INTRODUCTION. Ixxvii of a triad of mundane Gods.1 This theory too, which is the progeny of the most con¬ summate science, is in perfect conformity with the theology of the Chaldaeans. And hence it is said in one of their oracles, “ In every world a triad shines forth , of which a monad is the ruling principle Γ ( παντι yap εν κοσμώ 7\αμπει τριας , rjg μονας άρχει.) This likewise appears to be the peculi¬ arity of the philosophy of Plotinus, that it considered all the above-mentioned orders, all true beings that are superior to soul, and the multiform variety of ideas, or paradigms of things, as comprehended in one supreme intellect, which it denominates the intelli¬ gible world, and as there subsisting in impartible union, without any specific See my translation of Prod us on the Theology of Plato. "Έ β « ® IXXVlll INTRODUCTION, distinction. Hence Plotinus was more anxiously employed in profoundly investi¬ gating the nature of this divine world, than in scientifically unfolding the order of the beings it contains. Indeed, his genius on every subject seems to have been more adapted to an intimate perception of the occult essence of a thing, than to an expla¬ nation of its gradual evolution, and a descri ption of the mode ofits participations. However, though he did not develope the more particular progressions of true beings, yet he inserted the principles of this sub¬ lime investigation in his writings; and laid the foundation of that admirable and , \ beautiful system, which was gradually revealed by succeeding Platonists, and at last received its perfection by the acute, INTRODUCTION. Ixxix accurate, and elegant genius of Proclus.1 1 The following beautiful extract from the treatise of Plotinus, “ On intelligible beauty/' is a specimen of his manner of surveying all things, as subsisting without specific distinction in one supreme intellect. The whole of the extract likewise is the result of roepa επιβολή, or intuition through the projecting energies of intellect. “All the Gods are venerable and beautiful, and their beauty is immense. What else however is it but intellect through which they are such? and because intellect energizes in them in so great a degree as to render them visible [by its light.] ? For it is not because their bodies are beautiful. For those Gods that have bodies, do not through this derive their subsistence as Gods ; but these also are Gods through intellects For they are not at one time wise, and at another destitute of wisdom ; but they are always wise, in an impassive, stable, and pure intellect. They likewise know all things, not human concerns [precedaneously] but their own, which are divine, and such as intellect sees. Of the Gods however, those that are in the sensible heaven, for they abound in leisure, always contemplate, as if remotely, what the intelligible heaven contains, and this with an elevated head. But those that dwell in the latter, occupy the whole of the heaven a which α The heaven which Plotinus here celebrates as the same wdth the intelligible world, and the supreme intellect, belongs, accurately speaking, to that divine order which is denominated by the Chaldaeait theologists νοητος χαι votgo;, intelligible and at the same time intellectual , and is beautifully unfolded by Proclus in bis 4th book On the Theology of Plato. Ixxx INTRODUCTION. I shall only add* with respect to the is there, and survey [its blessed] inhabitants. For all things there are heaven, and there the earth is heaven, as also are the sea, animals, plants, and men. And in short, every * thing pertaining to that heaven is celestial. The Gods likewise that it contains do not think men undeserving of their regard, nor any thing else that is there [because every thing there is divine.1] And they occupy and pervade with¬ out ceasing the whole of that [blissful] region. For the life which is there is unattended with labor, and truth [as Plato says in the Phaedrus] is their generator, and nutriment, their essence and nurse. They likewise see all things, not those with which generation, but those with which essence is pre¬ sent. And they perceive themselves in others. For all things there are diaphanous ; and nothing is dark and resisting, but every thing is apparent to every one internally and throughout. For light every where meets with light ; since every thing contains all things in itself, and again sees all things in another. So that all things are every where, and all is all. Each thing likewise is every thing. And the splendor there is infinite. For every thing there is great, since even that which is small is great. The sun too which is there is all the stars: and again each star is the sun and all the stars. In each, however, a different property predomi- 1 From the version of Ficinus it appears that the words on tcm ?xh 0fiov, are omitted in the original. INTRODUCTION. Ixxxi nates, but at the same time all things are visible in each. Motion likewise there is pure ; for the motion is not con¬ founded by a mover different from it. Permanency also suffers no change of its nature, because it is not mingled witli the unstable. And the beautiful there is beautiful, because it does not subsist in beauty [as in a subject.] Each thing too is there established, not as in a foreign land, but the seat of each thing is that which each thing is ; and concurs with it, while it proceeds as it were on high from whence it origina¬ ted. Nor is the thing itself different from the place in which it subsists. For the subject of it is intellect, and it is itself intellect. Just as if some one should conceive that stars germinate from the light of this visible heaven which is luminous. In this sensible region therefore, one part is not produced from another, but each part is alone a part. But there each part always proceeds from the whole, and is at the same time each part and the whole. For it appears indeed as a part ; but by him whose sight is acute, it will be seen as a whole ; viz. by him whose sight resembles that which Lynceus is said to have possessed, and which pene¬ trated the interior parts of the earth ; the fable obscurely indicating the acuteness of the vision of supernal eyes. There is likewise no weariness of the vision w hich is there, nor any plenitude of perception which can bring intuition to an end. For neither was there any vacuity, which when filled might cause the visive energy to cease : nor is this one thing, but that another, so as to occasion a part of one thing not to be » χχχπ INTRODUCTION. treatise of Synesius 1 On Providence, that the extracts which are given from it in this volume, contain, as it appears to me, indu¬ bitable proofs that it was written by him while he was a Platonic philosopher and a heathen. This however I leave to the decision of the intelligent reader. Suidas amicable with that of another. Whatever likewise is there, possesses an untamed and unwearied power. And that which is there insatiable is so, because its plenitude never causes it to despise that by which it is filled. For by seeing it more abundantly sees, and perceiving both itself and the objects of its perception to be infinite, it follows its own nature [in unceasing contemplation.] And life indeed is not wearisome to any one, when it is pure. Why, therefore, should that which leads the most excellent life be weary t But the life there is wisdom ; a wisdom not obtained bv a reasoning process, because the whole of it always was, and is not in any respect deficient, so as to be in want of investi¬ gation. But it is the first wisdom, and is not derived from another." * For an account of Synesius, who from being a heathen became a bishop, see Toland's Hypatia. INTRODUCTION* Ixxxiii calls the treatise admirable (βανμ.α<ηος) · and it certainly contains some interesting par¬ ticulars relative to the mystic wisdom of the Egjrptians, which were doubtless derived from very ancient sources, and are no where else to be found* I ON THE VIRTUES/ X. Since evils are here, and revolve from necessity about this [terrestrial] place, but the soul wishes to flv from evils, it is requisite to fly from hence. What therefore is the flight? To become similar, sa)s Plato, to God. But this will be effected, if we become just and holy, in conjunc¬ tion with [intellectual] prudence, and in short if we are [truly] virtuous. If therefore we are assi¬ milated through virtue, is it to one who possesses virtue? But to whom are we assimilated?1 To divinity. Are we then assimilated to that nature which appears to possess the virtues in a more * eminent degree, and also to the soul of the world, and to the intellect which is the leader in it, in which there is an admirable wisdom ? For it is reasonable to suppose that while we are here, we are assimilated to this intellect. Or is it not in 1 See the additional notes at the end of this Volume, for a copious account of the political, cathartic and theoretic virtues, the subject of the present treatise of Plotinus. Plot, A the first place dubious, whether all the virtues are present with this intellect, such as temperance and fortitude, since there is nothing which can be dreadful to it? For nothing externally happens to it, nor does any thing pleasing approach to it, which when not present it may become desirous of possessing, or apprehending. But if it also has an appetite directed to the intelligibles, after which our souls aspire, it is evident that ornament and the virtues are from thence derived to us. Has therefore this intellect these virtues ? Or may we not say, it is not reasonable to suppose, that it possesses what are called the political virtues, viz. prudence indeed, about the part that deliberates and consults ; fortitude about the irascible part ; temperance, in the agreement and concord of the part that desires, with the reasoning power ; and justice, in each of these parts performing its proper office, with respect to governing and being govern¬ ed. Shall we say therefore, that we are not assimi¬ lated to divinity according to the political virtues, but according to greater virtues which employ the same appellation ? But if according to others, are we not at all assimilated according to the political virtues ? Or is it not absurd that we should not 3 in any respect be assimilated according to these? For rumor also says, that these are divine. We must say, therefore, that we are after a manner assimilated by them ; but that the assimilation is according to the greater virtues. In either way, however, it happens that divinity has virtues, though not such as the political. If, therefore, some one should grant, that though it is not possible to be assimilated according to such virtues as these, since we subsist differently with reference to other virtues, yet nothing hinders but that we by our virtues may be assimilated to that which does not possess virtue. But after what manner ? Thus, if any thing is heated by the pre¬ sence of heat, it is necessary that also should be hot from whence the heat is derived. And if any thing is hot by the presence of fire, it is necessary that fire itself also should be hot by the presence of heat/ To the first of these assertions, however, it may be said, that there is heat in fire, but a con- nascent heat, so that it will follow from analogy, that virtue is indeed adventitious to the soul, but connascent with that nature from whence it is de« 1 For irvpos θερμού here, I read θερμοτητοε. 4 rived by imitation* And with respect to the argu¬ ment from fire, it may be said that divinity pos¬ sesses virtue, but that virtue in him is in reality greater than virtue [because it subsists causally.] But if that virtue indeed, of which the soul parti¬ cipates, was the same with that from which it is derived, it would be necessary to speak in this manner* Now, however, the one is different from the other. For neither is the sensible the same with the intelligible house [or with that which is the object of intellectual conception] though it is similar to it. And the sensible house participates of order and ornament ; though there is neither order, nor ornament, nor symmetry, in the produc- tive principle of it in the mind. Thus, therefore, we participate from thence [i. e. from divinity] of ornament, order and consent, and these things per¬ tain to virtue, but there consent, ornament and order, are not wanted, and therefore divinity has no need of virtue. We are, however, nevertheless assimilated to what he possesses, through the pre¬ sence of virtue. And thus much for the purpose of showing, that it is not necessary virtue should be there, though we are assimilated to divinity by virtue. But it is also necessary to introduce per- 5 suasion to what has been said, and not to be satis» tied with compulsion alone. II. In the first place, therefore, the virtues must be assumed, according to which we say that we are assimilated [to divinity,] in order that we may discover the same thing. For that which is virtue with us, being an imitation, is there an archetype as it were, and not virtue. By which we signify that there is a twofold similitude, one of which re¬ quires a sameness in the things that are similar, these being such as are equally assimilated from the same thing ; but the other being that in which one thing is assimilated to another, but the latter ranks as first, and is not converted to the other, nor is said to be similar to it. Here, therefore, the similitude must be assumed after another man¬ ner ; since we do not require the same, but rather another form, the assimilation being effected after a different manner. What, therefore, is virtue, both that which is universal, and that which is par¬ ticular t The discussion, however, will be more manifest by directing our attention to each of the virtues ; for thus that which is common, according to which all of them are virtues, will be easily ap- 6 parent. The political virtues, therefore, of which we have spoken above, truly adorn and render us better, bounding and moderating the desires, and in short the passions, and taking away false opi¬ nions from a more excellent nature, by limiting and placing the soul beyond the immoderate and inde¬ finite, and by themselves receiving measure and bound. Perhaps, too, these measures are in soul as in matter, are assimilated to the measure which is in divinity, and possess a vestigie of the best which is there. For that which is in every respect deprived of measure, being matter, is entirely dis¬ similar [to divinity.] But so far as it receives form, so far it is assimilated to him who is without form. But things which are nearer to divinity, participate of him in a greater degree. Soul, however, is nearer to, and more allied to him than body, and therefore participates of him more abundantly, so that appearing as a God, it deceives us, and causes us to doubt whether the whole of it is not divine. After this manner, therefore, these are assimilated, III. Since, however, Plato indicates that this similitude to God pertains to a greater virtue [than that which is political,] let us speak concerning it ; in which discussion also, the essence of political virtue will become more manifest, and likewise the virtue which is essentially more excellent, which will in short be found to be different from that which is political. Plato, therefore, when he says that a similitude to God is a flight from terrestrial concerns, and when besides this he does not admit that the virtues belonging to a polity are simply virtues, but adds to them the epithet political, and elsewhere calls all the virtues purifications, evi¬ dently admits that the virtues are twofold, and that a similitude to divinity is not effected according to political virtue. How, therefore, do we call these purifications ? And how being purified, are we espe¬ cially assimilated to divinity ? Shall we say, that since the soul is in an evil condition wThen mingled with the body, becoming similarly passive and con¬ curring in opinion with it in all things, it will be good and possess virtue, if it neither consents with the body, but energizes alone, (and this is to per¬ ceive intellectually and to be wise,) nor is similarly passive with it, (and this is to be temperate,) nor dreads a separation from the body, (and this is to possess fortitude,) but reason and intellect are the leaders, (and this will be justice.) If any one# 8 however, calls this disposition of the soul, according to which it perceives intellectually, and is thus im¬ passive, a resemblance of God, he will not err. For divinity is pure, and the energy is of such a kind, that the being which imitates it will possess wisdom. What then ? Is not divinity also disposed after this manner ? Or may we not say that he is not, but that the disposition pertains to the soul ; and that soul perceives intellectually, in a way dif¬ ferent from divinity ? It may also be said, that of the things which subsist with him, some subsist dif¬ ferently from what they do with us, and others are not at all with him. Again, therefore, is intellec¬ tual perception with him and us homonymous ? By no means ; but the one is primary, and that which is derived from him secondary. For as the discourse which is in voice is an imitation of that which is in the soul, so likewise, that which is in the soul, is an imitation of that which is in some¬ thing else, [i. e. in intellect.] As, therefore, ex¬ ternal discourse is divided and distributed, when compared to that which is in the soul, thus also that which is in the soul, and which is the inter¬ preter of intellectual discourse, is divided when compared with it. Virtue, however, pertains to the soul ; but not to intellect, nor to that which is beyond intellect. IV. It must, however, be enquired whether purification is the same with a virtue of this kind ? Or does purification indeed precede, but virtue fol¬ low ? And whether does virtue consist in purifying, or in the being perfectly purified ? For virtue, while in the act of purifying, is more imperfect than that which consists in complete purification, which is now as it were the end. But to be perfectly puri¬ fied, is an ablation of every thing foreign. Good however, is something else besides this. Or may we not say, that if the soul was good prior to her impurity, purification is sufficient ? Purification, indeed, is sufficient ; but that which remains will be good, and not purification. And what that is which remains, is to be investigated. For perhaps the nature which is left was not good ; since other¬ wise, it would not have been situated in evil. Shall we say, therefore, that it has the form of good ? Or that it is not sufficiently able to abide [perpetually] in good ? For it is naturally adapted to verge both to good and evil. Its good, therefore, consists in associating with its kindred nature ; but its evil in 10 associating with the contraries to this. It is neces¬ sary, therefore, that it should associate with this nature, being purified. And this will take place, through being converted to i|. Will it therefore be converted after purification ? Or may we not say, that after purification it is converted? This, there¬ fore, is the virtue of the soul, or rather that which happens to it from conversion. What then is this ? The vision and impression of that which is seen, inserted and energizing in the soul, in the same manner as sight about a visible object. She did not, therefore, possess these, nor recollect them. Or perhaps she possessed them, yet not energizing, but deposited in an unilluminated state. In order, however, that they may be illuminated, and that the soul may know them to be inherent in herself, it is necessary that she should apply herself to that which illuminates. But she will not possess these, but the impressions of them. It is necessary, there¬ fore, to adapt the impression to the true objects from which the impressions are derived. Perhaps, likewise, she may thus be said to possess them, because intellect i& not foreign, and especially is not so, when it looks to the illuminating cause. But if it does not, it is foreign even when this cause. 11 is present. For sciences also are foreign, if we do not at all energize according to them. V. We must, however, show how far purifica¬ tion proceeds. For thus it will be evident to whom the similitude is made, and with what God the soul becomes the same. But this is especially to enquire how far it is possible to be purified from anger and desire, and all the other perturbations, such as pain, and things of a kindred nature, and to separate the soul from the body. And perhaps, indeed, to separate the soul from the body, is for the soul to collect itself as it were, from different places, so as to become entirely impassive, and to make the necessary sensations of pleasures to be only remedies and liberations from pain/ in order that the soul may not be disturbed [in its energies.] It likewise consists in taking away pain, and if this is not possible, in bearing it mildly, and diminish¬ ing its power, in consequence of [the rational part] not being co-passive with it. And besides this also, 1 Aristotle in his Nicomachean Ethics, says, that corporeal pleasures are remedies against pain, and satisfy the indigence of nature, but perfect uo energy of the rational part of the soul. 12 in taking away anger to the utmost of our ability , and if possible, entirely ; but if not, the rational part must not at the same time be angry, but the anger must be the passion of another part, and un¬ accompanied with deliberation. And this sudden impulse must be small and imbecile. Fear, how¬ ever, must be entirely removed ; for the purified soul will fear nothing. Here, also, the energy must be unattended with deliberation, except it be re¬ quisite to admonish. With respect to desire, it is evident that there must not be a desire of any thing base. And as to the desire of meats and drinks for the sake of a remission of pain, the soul herself will be without it. This likewise will be the case with the venereal appetite. But if the soul is de¬ sirous of connection, it will be I think in the natu¬ ral way, and this not unattended with deliberation* If, however, it should be an unadvised impulse, it will only be so far as it is accompanied with a pre¬ cipitate * imagination. But, in short, the [rational] * In the original προτύπους ; but it should doubtless be as in the above translation, προπετονς. For this is the word used by Marinus, in his Life of Proclus, when speaking of the cathartic virtues of that philosopher, and alluding to this pas¬ sage in Plotinus. 13 soul herself will be purified from all these. She will also wish to render the irrational part pure, so that it may not be agitated. And if it is, that the agitation may not be vehement, but small, and im¬ mediately dissolved by proximity to the rational part. Just as if some one being near to a wise man, should partake of his wisdom by this proxi¬ mity, or should become similar to him, or through reverence should not dare to do any thing which the good man is unwilling to do. Hence, there will be no contest. For reason being present will be sufficient, which the inferior part will reverence, so as even to be itself indignant, if it is at all moved, in consequence of not being quiet wrhen its master is present ; and it will on this account blame its own imbecility. VI. In conduct of this kind, therefore, there is no sin, but a correction of the man. Nevertheless the endeavour is not to be without sin, but to be a God. Hence, if any thing among the above men¬ tioned particulars should be done without delibera¬ tion, such a one will be both a God and a daemon, being a twofold character ; or rather, having ano¬ ther with him, possessing another virtue. But if 14 nothing is done unadvisedly, he will be a God alone. He will however be a God in the number of those that follow the first ; for he it is who came from thence. And if he becomes by himself such as he came, he is still there. But coming hither, he will associate with intellect ; and will assimilate this to himself/ according to the power of it. Hence, if possible, he will not be agitated, nor do any thing which may be displeasing to the master [intellect.] What, therefore, is each of the virtues to such a man as this ? Wisdom, indeed, will consist in the contemplation of what intellect contains. But he will possess intellect by contact. Each of the virtues, however, is twofold ; for each is both in intellect and in soul. And in intellect, indeed, each is not [properly] virtue, but virtue is in soul. What, then, is it in intellect? The energy of intellect, and that which is. Bu$ here that which is in another, is virtue derived from thence. For justice itself, and each of the virtues, are not in intellect such as they are here, but they are as it were paradigms. But that which proceeds from 8 For avro here, it is accessary to read cti ιτγ, conformably to the version of Ficinus. 15 each of these into the soul, is virtue. For virtue pertains to a certain thing. But each thing itself pertains to itself, and not to any thing else. With respect to justice, however, if it is the performance of appropriate duty, does it always consist in a multitude of parts ? Or does not one kind consist in multitude, when there are many parts of it, but the other is entirely the performance of appropriate duty, though it should be one thing. True justice itself, therefore, is the energy of one thing towards itself, in which there is not another and another. Hence justice in the soul is to energize in a greater degree intellectually. But temperance is an in¬ ward conversion to intellect. And fortitude is apathy, according to a similitude of that to which the soul looks, and which is naturally impassive. But soul is impassive from virtue, in order that she may not sympathize with her subordinate asso¬ ciate. VII. These virtues, therefore, follow each other in the soul, in the same manner as those paradigms in intellect which are prior to virtue. For there intelligence is wisdom and science ; a conversion to itself is temperance ; its proper work is the per- formance of its appropriate duty, and justice ; and that which is as it were fortitude is immateriality, and an abiding with purity in itself. In soul, therefore, perception directed to intellect is wisdom and prudence, which are the virtues of the soul. For soul does not possess these in the same man¬ ner as intellect. Other things also follow after, similarly in soul. They are likewise consequent to purification, since all the virtues are purifica¬ tions, and necessarily consist in the soul being purified ; for otherwise, no one of them would be perfect. And he indeed, who possesses the greater virtues, has necessarily the less in capacity ; but he who possesses the less, has not necessarily the greater. This, therefore, is the life which is the principal and leading aim of a worthy man. But whether he possesses in energy, or in some other way, the less or the greater virtues, must be consi¬ dered by a survey of each of them ; as for instance, of prudence. For if it uses the other virtues, how can it any longer remain what it is ? And if also it should not energize? Likewise, it must be consi¬ dered whether naturally the virtues proceed to a different extent ; and this temperance measures, but that entirely takes away what is superfluous. 17 And in a similar manner in the other virtues, prudence being wholly excited. Or perhaps the worthy man will see to what extent they proceed. And perhaps sometimes according to circumstances he will energize according to some of them. But arriving at the greater virtues, he will perform other measures according to them. Thus, for instance, in the exercise of temperance, he will not measure it by political temperance, but in short he will separate himself as much as possible [from the body,] and will live, not merely the life of a good man, which political virtue thinks fit to enjoin, but leaving this, he will chuse another life, namely, that of the Gods. For the similitude is to these, and not to good men. The similitude, indeed, to good men, is an assimilation of one image to ano¬ ther, each being derived from the same thing ; but a similitude to God, is an assimilation as to a paradigm. Plot . B 18 ON DIALECTIC.2 I. What art, or method, or study, will lead us· to that end to which we ought to proceed ? That we ought, indeed, to arrive at the good itself > and 1 The dialectic of Plato, which is here discussed, is not the same with that dialectic which is the subject of opinion, and is accurately investigated in the Topics of Aristotle. For the former is irreprehensible and most expeditious ; since it is con¬ nate with things themselves, and employs a multitude of powers in order to the attainment of truth. It likewise imitates intel¬ lect, from which it receives its principles, and ascends through well-ordered gradations to real being itself. It also terminates the wandering of the soul about sensibles ; and explores every thing by methods which cannot be confuted, till it arrives at the ineffable principle of things. The business, likewise, of this first of sciences, is to employ definitions, divisions, anne¬ xations, and demonstrations, as primary sciences in the inves¬ tigation of causes ; imitating the progression of beings from the first principle of things, and their continual conversion to it as the ultimate object of desire. But there are three energies,” (says Proclus in MS. Com¬ ment. in Parmenid.) “ of this most scientific method ; the first 19 the first principle of things, is granted, and is de¬ monstrated through many arguments. The argu- of which is adapted to youth, and is useful for the purpose of exciting their intellect, which is, as it were, in a dormant state. For it is a true exercise of the eye of the soul in the specula¬ tion of things, leading forth through opposite positions, the essential impression of ideas which it contains, and considering not only the divine path, as it were, which conducts to truth, but exploring whether the deviations from it contain any thing worthy of belief ; and lastly, stimulating the all-various com ceptions of the soul. But the second energy takes place when intellect rests from its former investigations, as becoming most familiar with the speculation of beings, and beholds truth itself firmly established on a pure and holy foundation. This energy, according to Socrates, by a progression through ideas, evolves the whole of an intelligible nature, till it arrives at that which is first; and this by analyzing, defining, demonstrating, and dividing, proceeding upwards and downwards, till having en¬ tirely investigated the nature of intelligibles, it raises itself to a nature superior to beings. But the soul being perfectly esta¬ blished in this nature, as in her paternal port, no longer tends to a more excellent object of desire, as she has now arrived at the end of her search. And you may say that what is deli¬ vered in the Phsedrus and Sophista, is the employment of this energy, giving a twofold division to some, and a fourfold to other operations of the dialectic art. Hence it is assigned to such as philosophize purely, and no longer require preparatory exercise, but nourish the intellect of their soul in pure intel¬ lection. But the third energy, which is declarative according to truth, purifies from twofold ignorance,1 when its reasons are 1 i. e. When a man is ignorant that lie is ignorant ; and this is the disease of the multitude. 20 ments also through which this is demonstrated, are a certain elevation to this end. But what kind of a person is it necessary the man should be who is elevated thither ? Is it not, as Plato says, one who has seen all, or most things ? And who in his first generation has descended into the seed of a man who will be a philosopher, or a musician, or a lover? The philosopher, therefore, the musician, and the lover, are naturally adapted to be elevated. What, therefore, is the mode ? Is there one and the same mode for all these ? Or is there a different mode for each ? There is, indeed, a twofold pro» gression to all of them ; one to those who are ascending ; but the other to those who have arrived at the supernal realms. For the former proceeds from things beneath ; but the latter ranks among those who are now in the intelligible region, and who in that place have as it were fixed their foot¬ step. There, also, it is necessary for them to pro¬ ceed, till they have arrived at the extremity of the place. The end of the progression, however, is employed upon men, full of opinion ; and this is spoken of in the Sophista.” See this subject more amply discussed in the additional notes at the end of this volume. 21 then obtained, when some one arrives at the sum¬ mit of the intelligible world. But let this at pre¬ sent remain [without any further discussion.] And let us first endeavour to speak concerning this ele¬ vation. In the first place, therefore, let these men be distinguished by us, and let us begin from the mu¬ sician, and show who he naturally is. We must admit, then, that he is easily excited 1 and asto¬ nished at the beautiful ; yet is not disposed to be moved from himself, but is prepared from casual occurrences as from certain types or impressions, to be excited by sounds, and to the beautiful in these, just as the timid are by noises. He like¬ wise always flies from dissonance ; and pursues in songs and rythms, that which is one, congruous, and elegant. After these sensible sounds, rythms, and figures therefore, he is thus to be elevated, viz. by separating the matter, in which analogies and ratios are inherent, and contemplating the beauty which they contain. He must also be taught that the things about which he was astonished were, intelligible harmony, and the beauty which is in it, * For ακίνητον here, it is necessary to read ευκίνητον r and in short, the beautiful itself, and not a certain beauty only. The reasonings, likewise, of philo¬ sophy must be inserted in him, through which he will be led to a belief of truths of which he is igno¬ rant, thougli he [occultly] possesses them. What these reasonings however, are, will be hereafter un¬ folded, II. But the lover, into which the musician may be changed, and being changed will either remain [in that character] or will pass beyond it, has in a certain respect a recollection of beauty. Being however separated from it, he is incapable of learn¬ ing what it is. But as he is struck by the beautiful objects which present themselves to the sight, he is seized with astonishment about them. He therefore must be taught not to be abjectly asto¬ nished about one beautiful body, but he must be led by the exercise of the reasoning power to all beautiful bodies, and he who does this must exhibit to him that which is one and the same in all of them, and inform him that it is different from and is derived elsewhere, than from bodies, and is rather inherent in other things, such as beautiful pursuits, and beautiful laws. For the lover will 23 now become accustomed to incorporeal natures. He likewise must be led to the beauty which is in the arts, in sciences, and the virtues, and after¬ wards to that which is one and the same in all these ; and he must be taught after what manner beauty is inherent in each of them. But after the virtues, he must now ascend to intellect, and being itself, and there commence the progression on high* III. The philosopher, however, is naturally prompt, and as it were, winged, and does not re¬ quire a separation [from sensible objects,] like the other characters ; since he is excited to the super¬ nal region, but is dubious, and therefore is only in want of one that may point out the way. The path, therefore, must be shown to him, and he must be liberated, since he is naturally willing, and was formerly freed [from the fetters of a corporeal na¬ ture.] Hence, he must be instructed in the ma¬ thematical disciplines, in order that he may be accustomed to the perception of and belief in an incorporeal essence. For he will easily admit its subsistence, as he is desirous of learning. As he is naturally, therefore, endued with virtue, he must 24 be led to the perfection of tiie virtues ; and after the mathematics, he must be taught dialectic rea¬ sonings, and in short, must be rendered skilful in dialectic, IV. What, then, is the dialectic which ought to be delivered in addition to the former particu¬ lars ? It is, indeed, a habit enabling its possessor to reason about every thing, to know what each thing is, and in what it differs from other things, what the common something is which it partici¬ pates, where each of these subsists, if a thing is, w hat it is, what the number is of beings, and again of non-beings [which are not nothing] but different from beings. This, also, discusses the good , and that which is not good ; such things as are under the good , and such as are under the contrary to it ; and what that is which is eternal, and that which is not a thing of this kind. All these likewise it dis¬ cusses scientifically, and not from opinion. Rest¬ ing, also, from the wandering about a sensible nature, it establishes itself in the intelligible world, and there has its employment, dismissing falsehood, and nourishing the soul in what is called the plain of truth, employing for this purpose the division of 5 15 Plato, and also for the separation of forms* It likewise employs this division for the purpose of defining what a thing is, and in order to obtain a knowledge of the first genera of things, intellectually connecting that which results from these, till it has proceeded through the whole of an intelligible na¬ ture ; and again, by an analytic process it arrives at that to which it had proceeded from the first* Then, however, it becomes quiescent, because so far as it arrives thither it is at rest, and being no longer busily employed, but becoming one, it sur¬ veys what is called logic, which is occupied about propositions and syllogisms, — just as if giving to another art, the knowledge of writing ; some of which it considers as necessary, and prior to art. But it forms a judgment of these* as well as of other things, and thinks that some of them are use¬ ful, but others superfluous, and pertaining to the method by which these are discussed* V. Whence, however, does this science derive its principles ? May we not say that intellect im¬ parts clear principles to the soul that is able to re¬ ceive them ? Afterwards, the soul compounds the things consequent to these principles, and connects and divides them, till it arrives at a perfect intel¬ lect. For, as Plato says, this science is the purest part of intellect and [intellectual] prudence. It is necessary, therefore, since it is the most honourable habit of those things that are in us, that it should be conversant with being, and the most honorable nature ; and that prudence, indeed, should be con¬ versant with being, but intellect with that which is beyond being. What, then, is philosophy ? That which is most honorable. Is philosophy, therefore, the same as dialectic ? Or is not dialectic the most honorable part of philosophy ? For it must not be fancied that it is the instrument of the philosopher ; since it does not consist of mere theorems and rules, but is conversant with things, and has beings as it were for its subject matter. Nevertheless, it pro¬ ceeds in a path to beings, possessing things them¬ selves together with theorems. It knows, however, that which is false and sophistical accidentally, something else being the cause of these ; and it forms a judgment of them as of that which is foreign, knowing the false by the truths it contains in itself, when it is adduced by any one, because it is con¬ trary to the rule of truth. Propositions, therefore, are not the object of its knowledge ; for these are 27 letters. But, knowing truth, it knows that which is called a proposition. And universally, it knows the motions of the soul, what the soul admits, and what it rejects, and whether it rejects that which it admits, or something else. Likewise, whether dif¬ ferent or the same things are adduced ; applying itself to them in a way resembling sense/ But it assigns to another power an accurate discussion of these particulars. VI. This, therefore, is an honourable part; since philosophy has also other parts. For it speculates about nature, receiving assistance from dialectic, in the same manner as the other arts use arithmetic. Philosophy, however, proximately de¬ rives assistance from dialectic. And, in a similar manner, it speculates about manners, surveying them through dialectic, but adding habits, and the exercises from which habits proceed. The rational virtues also have habits, and what are now as pecu- liarities, which they derive from thence. And the other virtues, indeed, have their reasonings in pecu¬ liar passions and actions ; but prudence is a certain * 1 i. c. By intuition, so as to come into immediate contact with the objects of its knowledge. It does this, however, so far as its energy is purely intellectual. 28 ratiocination, and is conversant with that which is * more universal. For it considers whether it is pro¬ per now to abstain or hereafter, or in short, whether another thing is better. Dialectic, however, and wisdom, introduce ail things to the use of prudence, universally and immaterially* But whether is it possible to know 18 inferior concerns without dia¬ lectic and wisdom ? Or may they be known in a different and defective way ? It is possible, however, for a man to be thus wise and skilled in dialectic without a knowledge of these. Or this will not be the case, but they will coalesce, either previously, or together. And perhaps some one may have certain physical virtues, from which, when wisdom is possessed, the perfect virtues will be obtained. Wisdom, therefore, is posterior to the physical virtues, but afterwards it perfects the manners ; or rather, the physical virtues existing, both are co-increased, and mutually perfected. Or, one of them being previously assumed, the one will perfect the other. For, in short, physical virtue has an imperfect eye, and imperfect man¬ ners ; and the principles of both are, for the most part, derived from those things which we possess. 1 For tiva i here, it is necessary to read eihcvai. 29 9 ON MATTER# I. All those who have spoken concerning what is called matter, and who have arrived at a concep¬ tion of its nature, unanimously assert, that it is a certain subject and receptacle of forms. They dissent, however, from each other, in investigating what this subject nature is ; and after what man¬ ner, and of what things, it is a recipient. And those, indeed, who alone admit bodies to be beings, and who contend that essence is in these, say, that there is one matter, which is spread under the ele¬ ments, and that it is essence ; but that all other things are, as it were, the passions of matter, and are matter subsisting in a certain w?ay, and thus also are the elements. They, likewise, dare to extend matter as far as to the Gods. And, lastly, 30 they make even their highest ‘ God to be this mat¬ ter, subsisting in a certain way. They, likewise, give a body to matter, calling it, body mid of qua¬ lity ; and attribute to it magnitude. But others say, that matter is incorporeal ; and some of these do not admit that there is only this one matter, but assert that this is the subject of bodies, and that there is another matter prior to this in intelligibles, which is spread under the forms that are there, and under incorporeal essences» IL Hence we must enquire concerning this in¬ telligible matter, whether it is, what it is, and after what manner it subsists» If, therefore, it is neces¬ sary that matter should be something indefinite and formless, but in intelligibles as being the most ex¬ cellent £ natures, there is nothing indefinite and without form, matter will not be there. If, also, every thing in the intelligible world is simple, it will not be in want of matter, in order that from it 1 From the version of Ficinus, It appears, that instead of αντον αυτών τον Oeor, we should read, ακροτατον αυτών τον θεόν* For his version is, “ sumraum ipsorum deum.w a For a opiffTots here, it is necessary to read αριστοι$. 31 / and something else, that which is a composite may be produced. To generated natures, indeed, and to such as make some things from others, matter is necessary, in which also the matter of sensibles is conceived to subsist ; but it is not necessary to things which are not generated. Whence, also, does matter proceed, and how does it subsist among intelligibles ? For if it was generated, it was generated by something ; but if it is eternal, there are many principles ; and first natures will have a casual subsistence. If, likewise, form should ac¬ cede, the composite will be a body, so that body will be there. III. In the first place, therefore, it must be 0 said, that the indefinite is not every where to be despised, nor that which in the conception of it is formless, if it applies itself to things prior to itself, and to the most excellent natures. For thus soul is naturally adapted to apply itself to intellect and reason, being formed by these, and brought to pos¬ sess a more excellent nature. In intelligibles, how¬ ever, that which is a composite subsists after a dif¬ ferent manner, and not like bodies ; since reasons, also, [or productive principles] are composites, and 32 produce a composite in energy, through nature which has an energy directed to form. But if energy is directed to something different from itself, it is derived from something else, and this in a greater degree. The matter, however, of gene¬ rated natures, always possesses another and another form ; but the matter of eternal natures always possesses the same form. Perhaps, also, the matter which is in sensibles subsists in a way contrary to that which is in intelligibles. For the former is alter- nately all things, and is always some different thing. Hence, nothing in it ever remains, one thing conti¬ nually expelling another ; and on this account, nothing is ever the same. But in the latter, matter is all things at once, and hence there is not any thing into which it can be changed. Matter, therefore, in intelligibles, is never formless, since neither is the matter in sensibles ever without form ; but each of these subsists after a different manner. Whether matter, however, is eternal or generated, will be manifest when we have shown what it is. IV. At present, however, it is supposed by us that there are forms or ideas, for this we have de- monstrated elsewhere ; and this being admitted we shall proceed in our discussion. If, therefore, there are many forms, it is necessary, indeed, that there should be something common in them ; and also that there should be something peculiar by which one is distinguished from another. This something peculiar, therefore, and separating diffe¬ rence, are the appropriate form. But if there is form, there is also that which is formed, about which difference subsists. Hence, there is matter [in intelligibles,] which receives the form, and is always the subject of it. Farther still, if the intel¬ ligible world is there, but this our world is the imitation of that, and this is a composite, and con¬ sists of matter [and form,] it is necessary that there also there should be matter. Or how can you denominate it a world [or that which is adorned,] unless you look to form ? And how can you look to form, unless you assume that in which form sub¬ sists ? For the intelligible world, indeed, is perfectly every where impartible ; but in a certain respect is also partible. And if the parts of it are divulsed from each other, the section and divulsion are the passions of matter ; for it is matter which is di¬ vided. But if the many which are there, are Plot . C 34 one 1 impartible being, the many subsisting in one, —if this be the case, they are in one matter, of which they are the forms. For this various one, is to be considered as having a multiform nature. It must, therefore, be considered as formless prior to its variety. Hence, if by intellect you take away its variety, its forms, its productive principles, and intellections, that which is prior to these is formless and indefinite, and this is no one of the things which subsist together with and in it. V. If, however, it should be said, that because it always possesses these things, and both [the subject and the forms] are one, this subject is not matter, neither will the subject of bodies here be matter. For the matter of sensibles is never without form, but there is always the whole body. At the same time, however, this is a composite ; and intellect discovers its twofold nature. For it divides till it arrives at that which is simple, and which is no longer capable of being analyzed. But so far as it is able, it proceeds into the profundity of body. * Instead of cl Se πολλά op , αμεριστον εστι^ in this place, it is necessary to read, cl he πολλά εν ον αμεριστον εστι. The profundity, however, of each body is matter. Hence all matter is dark, because reason is lightf v and intellect is reason. Hence, too, intellect be¬ holding the nature of each [i. e. of intelligible and sensible matter,] conceives that which is beneath, as under light, to be dark ; just as the eye which is luciform, extending itself to the light, and to colours which are illuminations, says, that what is under colours, is dark and material, and concealed by the colours. Nevertheless, that which is dark in intelligibles is different from that which is dark in sensibles ; and the matter of the one differs as much from the matter of the other, as the super¬ vening form of the one from that of the other. For divine matter receiving that which defines and bounds it, possesses a definite and intellectual life. But sensible matter becomes, indeed, a certain de¬ finite thing, yet neither vital nor intellectual, but an unadorned privation of life. The morph e ,* also, is an image, so that the subject likewise is an image. In intelligibles, however, the morphe is truly form, so that the subject also is real. Hence, those who * Morphe pertains to the colour* figure, and magnitude of superficies. 36 say that matter is essence, if they assert this of in¬ telligible matter, speak rightly. For the subject there is essence, or rather, is the object of intellec¬ tual perception, together with that which it con¬ tains, and is wholly illuminated essence. To in¬ vestigate, however, whether intelligible matter is eternal, is similar to the inquiry whether ideas are eternal. For they are generated, indeed, so far as they have a principle of their subsistence ; but they are not generated, [according to the usual accepta¬ tion of the term] because they have not a temporal beginning, but always proceed from something else, not like the natures which are always rising into existence, or becoming to be, as is the case with the wOrld, but they always are , in the same man¬ ner as the WOrld which is there [has an eternal subsistence.] For the difference which is there always produces matter ; since this which is the first motion is the principle of matter. Hence, it is called difference, because motion and difference were unfolded into light together with it. But the motion and difference wrhich proceed from the first cause of all, are indefinite, and are in want of this cause in order that they may become terminated. They are, however, terminated, when they are con- \ 37 verted to it. But prior to this, matter and diffe¬ rence are indefinite, and are not yet good, but are without the light of the good . For if light is from the good , that which receives the light, prior to its reception of it, does not always possess it, but pos¬ sesses it, being different from it, since the light is from something else. And thus much concerning intelligible matter, which we have discussed per¬ haps more than is fit. VI. Of the receptacle of bodies, however, we must speak as follows : That it is necessary then, there should be a certain subject to bodies, which is different from them, the mutation of the elements into each other manifests. For there is not a per¬ fect corruption of that which is changed ; since if there was, there would be a certain essence which would be dissolved into nonentity. Nor again, does that which is generated proceed into being from that which in every respect is not ; but there is a mutation from one form into another. That, however, remains, which receives the form of the thing generated, and casts aside another form. This, therefore, in short, corruption mani¬ fests ; for corruption is of that which is a compo- 38 site. But if this be the case, eacii sensible thing consists of matter and form. This, too, induction testifies, demonstrating that the thing which is cor¬ rupted is a composite. Analysis, likewise, evinces the same thing; as if, for instance, a pot should be resolved into gold ; 1 but gold into water ; and the water being corrupted, will require an analogous process. It is necessary, also, that the elements should either be form, or the first matter, or that which consists of matter and form. But it is im¬ possible, indeed, that they should be form. For how, without matter, could they have bulk and magnitude? Nor are they the first matter; for they are corrupted. Hence, they consist of matter and form. And form, indeed, subsists according to quality and morphe ; but matter according to the subject, which is indefinite, because it is not form. ,· * What Plotinus here says of the analysis into gold, is per¬ fectly conformable to the assertion of Albertus Magnus, as cited by Becher in his Physica Subterranea, p. 319. 4to. For his words are, “ Non dari rem elementatam, in cujus ultima substantiatione non reperiatur aurum.’’ That all metals, likewise, may be analyzed into water, is the doctrine both of Plato and Aristotle. See my translation of the Timaeus of the former, and Meteors of the latter. 39 VII. Empedocles, however, who substitutes the elements for matter, has the corruption of them testifying against him. But Anaxagoras, who makes the mixture of things to be matter, and who says, that it has not an aptitude to [become] all things, but has all things in energy, subverts the intellect which he introduces ; not assigning to it the production of morphe and form, nor asserting that it is prior to matter, but that it subsists in conjunction with it. It is, however, impossible that intellect and matter should be consubsistent. For if the mixture participates of being, it follows that being is prior to it. But if being also is a mixture, a certain third thing is wanting to these. If, therefore, it is necessary that the demiurgus should have a prior subsistence, why is it necessary that forms should be in matter according to parvitude ; and that afterwards intellect by a vainly laborious process should separate them from each other ? For it is possible to impress quality in mat¬ ter, since it is without quality, and to extend mor¬ phe through the whole of it. And, besides, is it not impossible that all things should be in every thing ? But he who asserts that the infinite is mat¬ ter, should explain what this infinite is. And if it 40 is infinite in such a way as that which cannot fie passed over, it must be observed, that there is not any such thing among beings, neither if it is the infinite itself, nor if it is inherent in another nature, as an accident to a certain body» It is not, in¬ deed, the infinite itself, because the part of it is necessarily infinite. Nor is it the infinite as an accident, because that to which it is an accident would not be of itself infinite, nor simple, and there¬ fore evidently would not be matter. But neither have atoms the order of matter, which indeed have no subsistence whatever/ For every body is en¬ tirely divisible. This opinion is also confuted from the continuity and moisture of bodies ; and also from the impossibility of things subsisting without intellect and soul, which could not be formed from atoms. Again, it is not possible to fabricate any other nature, besides atoms from atoms ; since no artificer is able to produce any thing from matter which is not continuous. Ten thousand other objections might and have been urged against this hypothesis, and therefore it i& superfluous to dwell longer on these particulars. 1 i. e. As things perfectly indivisible. 41 VIII. What, then, is this nature, which is said to be one, continued, and void of quality ? And, indeed, that it is not a body if void of quality, is evident ; 1 for if it were, it would have quality. 1 Though from the arguments adduced here by Plotinus, it appears to be impossible that the first matter should be body void of quality, yet I think there will not be any absurdity in admitting with Simplicius, that body is twofold, one kind as subsisting according to form and productive power, and de¬ fined by certain intervals ; but another as characterized by intensions and remissions, and an indefiniteness of an incorpo¬ real, impartible, and intelligible nature; this not being form¬ ally defined by three intervals, but entirely remitted and dissi¬ pated, and on all sides flowing from being into non-being. “ Such an interval as this, we must perhaps,” (says Simplicius) %t admit matter to be, and not corporeal form, which now measures and bounds the infinite and indefinite nature of such an interval as this, and which stops it in its flight from being* Matter, however, is that by which material things differ from such as are immaterial. But they differ by bulk, interval, division, and things of this kind, and not by things which are defined according to measure, but by things void of measure and indefinite, and which are capable of being bounded by formal measures. The Pythagoreans appear to have been the first of the Greeks that had this suspicion concerning matter ; but after them Plato, as Moderatus also informs us. For he, conformably to the Pythagoreans, evinced that the first one is above being, and all essence ; but he says, that forms are the second one, which is true being and the intelligible ; and that the third one, which is psychical, or belonging to soul, parti¬ cipates of the one , and of forms. He adds, that the last nature 42 $ But we say that it is the matter of all sensibles, and that it is not the matter of some, but the form of others ; as clay is matter to the potter, but is not simply matter. We do not, therefore, speak of it in this way, but with reference to ail things ; and this being the case, we must not attribute to the from this, and which is the nature of sensibles, does not parti¬ cipate them, but is adorned according to a representation of them, matter which is in them being the shadow of the non- being, which is primarily in quantity, or rather depending on and proceeding from it. According to this reasoning, there¬ fore, matter is nothing else than the mutation of sensibles, with respect to intelligibles, deviating from thence, and carried downwards to non-being. Those things, indeed, which are the properties of sensibks are irrational, corporeal, distributed into parts, and passing into bulk and divulsion, through an ultimate progression into generation, viz, into matter; for matter is always truly the last sediment. Hence, also, the Egyptians call the dregs of the first life, which they symbolically deno¬ minate water, matter, being as it were a certain mire. And matter is, as it were, the receptacle of generated and sensible natures, not subsisting as any definite form, but as the state or condition of subsistence ; just as the impartible, the immate¬ rial, true being, and things of this kind, are the constitution of an intelligible nature ; all forms, indeed, subsisting both here and there, but here materially, and there immaterially ; viz. there impartibly and truly, but here partibly awd shadowy. Hence, every form is here distributed according to material interval.” See more on this subject in the notes to Book I. of my translation of Aristotle's Physics. 43 nature of it any thing which is perceived among sensibles. Hence, besides not granting to it other qualities, such as colour, heat and cold, we must ascribe to it neither levity or gravity, neither den- sity or rarity, or figure ; and therefore, neither must we ascribe to it magnitude. For magnitude itself is one thing, and to be great another. And figure itself is one thing, and that which is figured another. It is necessary, however, that it should not be a composite; but simple, and one certain thing in its own nature. For thus it will be desti¬ tute of all things. And he who imparts morphe to it, will impart morphe as something different from matter. He will also profer, as it were, magnitude and all things from the things which exist ; for otherwise, he would be subservient to the magni¬ tude of matter, and his production would not pos¬ sess the quantity which he wished it should, but that which matter is capable of receiving. To assert, however, that the will of the artificer con¬ curs with the magnitude of matter, is fictitious. But if the maker is prior to matter, in this case- matter will entirely be such as the maker wishes it to be, and will with facility be brought to all things, and therefore to magnitude. If, however, it has 44 magnitude, it is also necessary that it should have figure, so that it will be still more difficult to be fashioned by the artificer. Form, therefore, enters matter, bringing all things with it. But every form possesses magnitude, and the quantity which it contains is accompanied with reason [i. e. with a productive principle] and subsists under this. Hence, in every genus of things, quantity is defined together with form. For there is one magnitude of a man, and another of a bird. And it would be absurd to suppose, that the introduction of quantity to the matter of a certain bird, is any thing else than adding to it its proper quality. Nor must it be said that quality is a productive principle, but that quantity is not form, since it is both measure and number. IX. How then can any thing w hich ranks among beings be apprehended, which has no magnitude ? Perhaps every thing which is not the same with a certain quantity. For being and a certain quantity are not the same ; since there are many other things besides a definite quantity. And, in short, it must be admitted that every incorporeal nature is without quantity. Matter, also, is incorporeal ; since quantity itself is not a quantum, [or a certain quantity] but that is a quantum which participates of quantity. Hence, from this it is evident, that quantity is form. As, therefore, a certain white thing is produced by the presence of whiteness ; but that which produces a white colour in an animal, and other various colours, is not a various colour, but a various productive principle ; thus also, that which produces a definite quantity, is not a definite quantity, but a quantum itself, or quan¬ tity itself, or a productive principle. Does quan¬ tity, therefore, acceding, evolve matter into magni* tude ? By no means. For it was not contracted into a small space ; but it imparts magnitude which prior to this was not, in the same manner as it imparts quality which had not a prior existence* X. What, therefore, is that which is void of magnitude in matter ? What, also, do you conceive that to be which is in a certain way void of quality ? And what is the intellection and the perception of it by the reasoning power ? Shall we say it is inde¬ finiteness ? For if the similar is perceived by the similar, the indefinitaalso will be apprehended by the indefinite. Reason, therefore, will become 46 bounded about the indefinite ; but the intuition of it will be indefinite. If, however, every thing is known by reason and intelligence, but here, reason indeed says what it is requisite to say about it, and wishing to become intelligence, is not intelligence, but, as it were, a privation of intellect, — if this be the case, the phantasm of matter will rather be spurious, and not genuine, being composed of an imagination which is not true, and another kind of reason. And perhaps Plato, looking to this, says, [in the Timasus] that matter is apprehended by a spurious reasoning. What, therefore, is the inde¬ finiteness of the soul ? Is it an all-perfect ignorance, such as the absence [of knowledge ?] Or does the indefinite consist in a certain negation 1 in conjunc¬ tion with a certain affirmation ; and is it like dark¬ ness to the eye, obscurity being the matter of every invisible colour? Thus, therefore, the soul also, taking away whatever in sensibles resembles light, and not being able to bound what remains, is simi¬ lar to the eye placed in darkness, and then becomes 1 In the original η εν καταψασα. tivl , but it appears from the version of Ficinus, that we should read, -η er αποφασει σνν KaTatyaaet nyi . This emendation the sense also requires and is adopted in the above translation. 47 in a certain respect the same with that which, as it were, it sees. Does it therefore see ? Perhaps it sees matter as something deformed, and as void of colour, and void of light ; and besides this, as not having magnitude, since if it had, it would be in- vested with form. When, therefore, the soul un¬ derstands nothing, is she not affected in the same manner as when she sees matter ? By no means. For when she understands nothing, she says no- thing, or rather, she suffers nothing. But when she beholds matter, she suffers such a passion as when she receives the resemblance of that which is formless ; since also when she understands things that have figure and magnitude, she understands them as composites. For she understands them as things diversified, and in short as possessing quali¬ ties. Hence, she understands the whole, and at the same time both, and her intellection or sensa¬ tion of the inherent properties is clear and manifest But her perception of a formless subject is ob¬ scure ; for it is not form. When, therefore, in the whole and composite, she receives the subject to¬ gether with its inherent properties, and analyze® and separates them, then she understands obscurely that which reason leaves, darkly that which is dark. 48 and sees intellectually, not understanding. And since matter itself does not remain formless, but in [sensible] things is invested with form, the soul -also immediately impresses it with the form of things, being pained with the indefinite, as if afraid of being placed out of the order of beings, and not enduring to stop any longer at nonentity. XT. But why is it requisite there should be something else besides magnitude and all qualities, to the composition of bodies ? Or is it not neces- sary there should be that which is the recipient of all things ? It will not therefore be bulk. For if it were bulk, it would also be magnitude. But if it is without magnitude, it will not have a place where it may receive [all other things.] For being void of magnitude, what advantage would it derive from place, if it neither contributes to form and quality, nor to interval and magnitude ? the two latter of which appear to be derived to bodies from matter, wherever it may be. In short, as actions and productions, times and motions, though they have no substratum of matter in them, yet rank among beings ; thus, also, neither is it necessary that the first bodies should have a matter [which is 49 without magnitude], but that, each of them should be wholly that which it is, being more various by the mixture with things that have their composition from many forms. So that this matter which is without magnitude, is a vain name. In the first place, therefore, it is not necessary that whatever receives any thing should have bulk, if magnitude is not now present with it ; since soul, likewise, which receives all things, has all things at once· But if it happened to have magnitude, it would possess every thing that it contains, in magnitude. Matter, however, on this account, receives the things which it receives, in interval, because it is the recipient of interval ; just as animals and plants, while they are extended with magnitude, receive at the same time the production of quality ; and quantity being contracted, quality also is contracted. If, however, because a certain magnitude pre-exists in things of this kind, as a subject to the formator, some one should also require this in matter, he will not conceive rightly. For in the formation of these, not matter simply considered, is employed, but matter of a certain kind. But it is necessary that matter simply considered, should possess mag¬ nitude from something else. Hence, it is not Plot. D 50 necessary that the recipient of form should be bulk, but that at the same time it becomes bulk, it should receive another quality ; and that it should have indeed the phantasm of bulk, because, as being the first matter, it is an aptitude to the reception of it. It is, however, a void bulk ; and hence some assert that matter and a vacuum are the same. For the soul having nothing which it can bound, when it associates with matter, diffuses itself into the inde¬ finite, neither circumscribing it, nor being able to arrive at any fixed point [of survey ;] since other¬ wise it would define it. Hence, neither is it to be separately called great, nor again small ; but it must be denominated both small and great. And thus it is bulk, and thus is without magnitude, be¬ cause it is the matter of bulk. Being also con¬ tracted from the great to the small, and extended from the small to the great, it runs as it were through bulk. The indefiniteness of it, likewise, is a bulk of this kind, being the receptacle of magni¬ tude in itself ; but in imagination in the way before explained. For with respect to such other things without magnitude as are forms, each of them is definite ; so that they bring with them no coficep- tion whatever of bulk. But matter being indefinite, 51 and never at rest 1 with itself, and being borne along to every form, in every direction, and easily led every where, becomes multitudinous by its generation and transition to all things. And after o o this manner it possesses the nature of bulk. XII. Magnitude, therefore, contributes some¬ thing to bodies ; for the forms of bodies, are in dimensions. These forms, however, are not gene¬ rated about magnitude, but about that which is amplified. For if they were generated about mag¬ nitude, and not about matter, they would be simi¬ larly void of magnitude and without subsistence, or would be productive principles alone. But forms are conversant with soul, and therefore are not bodies. Hence, it is necessary that here, many things should subsist about one thing ; but this is distended with magnitude. And this [which is thus amplified,] is different from magnitude ; since now also such things as are mingled, in consequence of having matter, pass into a sameness of condition, 1 Instead of μη πω πασα παρ' αντης , it is necessary to read μη π ore παυσασα παρ αυτη$ , agreeably to the version of Fi« cinus. 52 and do not require any thing else about which they may subsist, because each of the things that are mingled brings with it its own matter. At the same time, however, a certain recipient is neces¬ sary, viz. either a vessel, or place. But place is posterior to matter, and to bodies ; so that bodies prior to this will be indigent of matter. Nor does it follow that because productive energies and actions are immaterial, on this account bodies also are without matter. For the latter are composites, but this is not the case w ith actions. Matter also imparts a subject to agents when they act, abiding in them, but not giving itself to act ; for this is not investigated by material agents. Nor is one action changed into another, in order that matter may be in them ; but the agent passes from one action to another, so that he has the relation of matter to the actions themselves. Matter, therefore, is necessary both to quality and magnitude, so that it is also necessary to bodies. Nor is it a vain name, but it is a certain subject, though it is invisible, and with¬ out magnitude. For if this is not granted, neither must we say that there are qualities ; and for the same reason we must deny the existence of magni¬ tude. For each of these, if assumed by itself alotie, 53 must be said to be nothing. But if these have a subsistence, though each of them obscurely exists, much more will matter have an existence, though it does not clearly subsist, and is apprehended, though not by the senses. For it is not perceived by the eyes, since it is without colour. Nor by the hearing ; for it has no sound. Nor by the smell, or the taste ; for it has neither moisture, nor vapour. Is it, therefore, perceived by the touch ? Or is not this impossible, because neither is it a body P For the touch pertains to body,, because it pertains either to the dense, or the rare, the soft, or the hard, the moist, or the dry. None of these, however, subsist about matter ; so that it is per¬ ceptible by reasoning, but not by sense ; and by a reasoning not derived from, but void of intellect, on which account, as we have before observed, this reasoning is spurious. But neither is corporeity about matter. For if corporeity is a productive principle, it is different from matter. But if it is a thing now made, and as it were mingled, it will evidently be body, and not matter only. XIII. If, however, the subject of things is a certain quality, being something common in each 54 of the elements, in the first place indeed, it must be shown what it is. And, in the next place., how quality can be a subject must be explained. How, likewise, can a thing which has quality be surveyed in that which is without magnitude, and without matter? Likewise, if the quality is defined, how can it be matter? But if it is something indefinite, it is not quality, but a subject, and matter which we are now investigating. What hinders, there¬ fore, but that it may indeed be void of quality in consequence of not in its own nature participating any one of other things, and yet through not parti¬ cipating of any thing, it may be endued with quality, entirely possessing a certain peculiarity, and differing from other things, being as it were a certain privation of them ? For he who suffers a privation of any thing, as for instance, a blind man, is [it may be said] a participant of quality. If, therefore, there is a privation of these things about matter, how is it possible it should not be endued with quality ? But if, in short, there is privation about it, it is in a still greater degree a participant of quality, if privation is a certain something that has quality. He, however, who thus objects, what else does he do than make all things to be qualities, 55 and the participants of quality ? So that quantity, and also essence, will be quality. And if each of these is such like, quality will be present with it. It is, however, ridiculous to make that which is different from the participant of quality, and which is not such like, to be endued with quality. But if it should be said, this is because a thing that is dif¬ ferent is a participant of quality, we reply, if indeed it is difference itself, it will not subsist as a thing that is such like, since neither is quality the parti¬ cipant of quality. If, however, it is different alone, it is not alone different through itself, but through difference, and is the same through sameness. Neither, therefore, is privation quality, nor the participant of quality, but is destitute of quality, or of something else, just as silence is the absence of sound or of some other thing. For privation is a negation. But a thing endued with quality consists in affirmation. The peculiarity, likewise, of matter is not morphe ; for not to possess quality is not to possess a certain form. It is absurd, therefore, to call that thing quality, which is not a participant of quality, and is just as if it should be said that a thing without magnitude, in consequence of being without, possesses magnitude. The peculiarity, 56 therefore, of matter, is not any thing else than that which matter is : nor is its peculiarity adjacent to it, but rather subsists in a habitude to other things, because matter is different from them. And other things, indeed, are not only others, but each of them is a certain thing as having form. Matter, how¬ ever, may be aptly said to be alone that which is another. Perhaps, also, it may be appropriately denominated other things, lest by calling it in the singular number another, you should limit [its boundless nature ;] but by denominating it others , you will indicate the indefiniteness of its subsis? tence. XIV. That, however, is to be investigated, whether matter is privation, or privation subsists about matter. He, therefore, who says that both are one in subject, but two in definition, ought in justice to teach us what definition of each should be given. And to the definition of matter, indeed, he should adapt nothing of privation ; and to the definition of privation, nothing of matter. For either the one is not in the definition of the other, or each is in the definition of each, or one of them only is in the definition of the other, whichever it 57 may be. If, therefore, each is defined separately* and neither of them requires the other, both will he two things, and matter will be different from privation, though privation may happen to it. In the definition of the one, however, it is necessary that the other should not be seen, not even in capa= city. But if they are as a flat nose, and flatness of the nose, thus also each of them is twofold and two. And if they are as fire and heat, heat being in fire, but fire not being assumed in heat, and matter is so privation as fire is hot, —in this case, privation will be, as it were, the form of matter, but the subject will be another thing, which it is necessary should be matter. Neither, likewise, in this way will they be one. Are they, therefore, thus one in subject, but two in definition, privation not signifying that a certain thing is present, but that it is not present, and privation being as it were a negation of beings, as if some one should say non-being ? For negation does not add any thing, but says a thing is not, and thus privation will be as non-being. If, therefore, it is non-being, because it is not being but something else, will there be two definitions ; the one indeed regarding the sub¬ ject, but the other privation, manifesting a habitude 58 to other things ? Or shall we say, that the defini¬ tion of matter respects other things, and that this is also the case with the definition of a subject ; but that the definition of privation, if it manifests the indefiniteness of it, will perhaps touch upon its nature, excepting that each is one in the subject, but two in definition ? But if privation in conse¬ quence of being indefinite, infinite, and without quality, is the same with matter, how will there be any longer two definitions ? XV. Again, it must be investigated, whether if the infinite and indefinite are in another nature accidentally, how this is an accident, and whether privation happens to it. If, indeed, such things as numbers and reasons [or productive principles] are remote from infinity ; for they are boundaries and orders, and arrangement is derived to other things from these ; but these arrange not that which is arranged, nor the orders of things, that which ar¬ ranges being different from that which is arranged ; and end, bound, and reason, arrange ; — if this be the case, it is necessary that what is arranged and bounded, should be infinite. Matter, however, is arranged, and also such things as are not matter, 59 by participating or possessing the nature of matter. Hence it is necessary, that matter should be infinite, yet not infinite in such a way as if the infinite was accidental to matter. For in the first place, that which happens to any thing ought to be formative ; but the infinite is not formative. In the next place, to what existing thing will the infinite be an acci¬ dent? Will it be to bound, and that which is bounded ? Matter, however, is neither any thing bounded, nor bound. The infinite, also, acceding to that which is bounded, loses its own nature. Hence, the infinite is not an accident to matter. Matter, therefore, is the infinite ; since in intelligi- bles alsox matter is the infinite which is there.1 1 “ Power,0 says Proclus, (in Theol. Plat. lib. iii. cap. p.) Sl is every where the cause of prolific progressions, and of all multitude; occult power, indeed, being the cause of occult multitude ; but the power which exists in energy, and which unfolds itself into light, being the cause of all-perfect multi¬ tude. Through this cause, therefore, I think that every being, and every essence, has connascent powers. For it participates of infinity, and derives its hyparxis indeed from bound, but its power from infinity. And being is nothing else than a monad of many powers, and a multiplied hyparxis, and on this ac¬ count being is one many. — It appears to me also, that Plotinus and his followers, frequently indicating these things, produce being from form and intelligible matter, arranging form as ana- 60 And there, indeed, it is generated from the infinity or power of the one , or from the ever, infinity not being in the one , but proceeding from it. How, therefore, is the infinite there, and also here ? Or is not the infinite twofold ? And in what do they differ ? They differ in the same manner as arche¬ type and image. Is the latter, therefore, in a less degree infinite ? Perhaps it is more infinite. For so far as the image flies from the reality of exist¬ ence, so far it is in a greater degree infinite. For infinity is in a greater degree in that which is less bounded. For that which is less in good is more in evil. Hence the infinite which is in intelligible^, in consequence of having more of being, is but as an image [with respect to the infinity of matter.] But the infinite which is here, as having less of being, so far as it flies from existence and truth, and is drawn down to the nature of an image, is a logous to the one , and to hyparxis, but power as analogous to matter. And if, indeed, they say this, they speak rightly. But if they ascribe a certain formless and indefinite nature to an intelligible essence, they appear to me to wander from the conceptions of Plato on this subject. For the infinite is not the matter of bound, but the power of it, nor is bound the form of the infinite, but the hyparxis of it.” See tny transla¬ tion of this work of Proclus, vol. i. p. 173. 6 i more true infinite. Is, therefore, the infinite the same thing as to be infinite ? Perhaps where there are that which has a productive and forming power, and matter, each of these is different ; but where there is matter alone, they must either be said to be the same, or in short, and which also is better, to be infinite is not here. For it would be reason in order that it might be infinite [i. e. would have a productive and forming power,] which is not in the infinite. Hence matter must be said to be of itself infinite, through having an arrangement opposite to reason. For as reason not being any thing else is reason, thus also it must be said, that matter being opposed to reason according to infinity, is infinite in such a way as not to be any thing else* XVI. Is, therefore, matter the same with dif¬ ference, or is it not the same ? Perhaps it is not the same with difference simply considered,1 but with a part of difference which is opposed to beings properly so called, and which are productive prin- 1 it appears from the version of Ficinus, that the words η ον tclvtqv €Τ€ροτηπ απ\ω$> are wanting in this place in the original. 62 ciples. Hence, also, non-being is thus a certain being, and the same with privation, if privation is an opposition to the things which subsist in reason. Will, therefore, privation be corrupted by the ac¬ cession of that of which it is the privation ? By no means* For the receptacle of habit, is not habit, but privation. The receptacle, likewise, of bound, is not that which is terminated, nor bound, but the infinite, and this so far as it is infinite. How is it possible, therefore, that bound approaching should not destroy the nature of the infinite, especially since this infinite has not an accidental subsistence ? Or may we not say that if this infinite was infinite in quantity, it would perish? Now, however, this is not the case, but on the contrary its being is pre¬ served by bound. For bound brings that which the infinite is naturally adapted to be, into energy and perfection ; just as that which is not yet sown [is brought to perfection] when it is sown, and as the female [when impregnated] by the male. For then the female nature is not destroyed, but pos¬ sesses the female characteristic in a greater degree ; since then it becomes more eminently that which it is. Is, therefore, matter evil when it partakes of good ? Or shall we say it is evil on this account 63 because it was in want of good ? For it did not pos¬ sess it. For that which is in want of any thing, and obtains what it wants, will perhaps become a medium between good and evil, if it is equally dis* posed towards both. But that which possesses nothing, as being in poverty, or rather being poverty itself, is necessarily evil. For this is not the want o of wealth or of strength, but it is the want of wis¬ dom, and the want of virtue, of beauty, strength, morphe, form, and quality. How, therefore, is it possible it should not be deformed ? How is it pos¬ sible it should not be perfectly base ? How is it possible it should not be perfectly evil ? The mat¬ ter, however, which is in intelligibles is [real] being. For that which is prior to it is beyond being. But here [in the sensible region,] that which is prior to, matter is being. Hence the matter which is here is not being, since it is different from it when com¬ pared with the beauty of being. AGAINST THE GNOSTICS/ I. Since it has appeared to us that the nature of the good is simple and the first ; for every thing 1 “ At the time in which Plotinus lived/’ (says Porphyry in his life of our philosopher,) " there were many Christians and others, who departing from the ancient philosophy, be¬ came heretics, [with respect to it;] viz. the followers of Adel- phius and Acylinus, who being in possession of many of the writings of Alexander, Philocomus, Demostratus, and Lydus, and exhibiting the revelations of Zoroaster, Zostrianus, Nico- theus, Allogenes, Meses, and certain others, deceived many, and were themselves deceived. For they asserted, that Plato had not penetrated the depth of an intelligible essence. Hence Plotinus in his conferences adduced many arguments against them, and also wrote a book which we have inscribed ‘Against the Gnostics/ leaving the rest to our judgment.” After this testimony of Porphyry, it is singular, as Fabricius observes, that Plotinus should not even once use the word Gnostics, in any part of his treatise against them. But as he was a man sparing of words beyond all other writers, he was perhaps satisfied with the inscription which he knew would be given to the book by Porphyry, and being wholly attentive to the conceptions of his own wonderful mind, did not busy him» self with a repetition of names. Wherever this word, therefore, occurs in the following translation, it is inserted by me for the sake of perspicuity. 65 which is not the first is not simple ; and since it has nothing in itself, but is one alone, and the nature of what is called the oney is the same with the good; for it is not first something else, and afterwards one, — nor is the good something else, and afterwards the good; — this being the case, when we say the one , and when w^e say the good , it is necessary to think that we speak of one and the same nature ; not predicating any thing of it, but manifesting it to ourselves as much as possible. It is also called the first , because it is most simple ; and sufficient to itself, because it does not consist of many things. For if it did, it would be sus¬ pended from the things of which it consists. It likewise is not in any thing else, because every thing which is in another, is also derived from another. If, therefore, it is neither from, nor in another, and has not any composition in its nature, it is necessary that there should not be any thing superior to it. Hence, it is not requisite to pro¬ ceed to other principles, but having admitted this, and next to this intellect which is primarily inteF lect, we ought afterwards to place soul, as the next in rank. For this is the order according to nature, neither to admit more, nor fewer than these in the Plot. E 66 intelligible. For those who admit fewer than these, must either say that soul and intellect are the same, or that intellect and that which is first are the same. It has, however, been frequently demon¬ strated by us, that these are different from each other. It remains, therefore, that we should consider at present, if there are more than these three, what the natures are which exist besides these. For since the principle of all things subsists in the way we have shown, it is not possible for any one to find a more simple and elevated principle. For they [the Gnostics] will not say 1 that there is one principle in capacity, but another in energy ; since it is ridiculous in things which are in energy, and immaterial, to make many natures by dividing into capacity and energy. But neither in the natures posterior to these, is it to be supposed that there is a certain intellect established in quiet, but that another is as it were moved. For what is the quiet of intellect, what the motion and language of it ? And what will be the leisure of one intellect, and * Instead of ου yap bet, here, it is necessary to read ου yap δη9 67 the work of the other ? Tor intellect always pos¬ sesses an invariable sameness of subsistence, being constituted in a stable energy. But motion direct¬ ed to, and subsisting about it, is nowT the employ¬ ment of soul Reason also proceeding from intel¬ lect into soul, causes soul to be intellectual, and does not produce a certain other nature between intellect and soul. Moreover, neither is it neces¬ sary to make many intellects on this account, that one of them perceives intellectually, but another sees that it sees intellectually. For if in these, to perceive intellectually is one thing, but another to perceive that it sees intellectually, yet there must be one intuitive perception in these which is not in¬ sensible of its own energies. For it would be ridi¬ culous to form any other conception than this of true intellect. But the intellect will be entirely the same, which perceives intellectually, and which sees that it sees intellectually. For if this were not the case, the one would be alone intelligent but the other would perceive that it was intelligent, and the former would be different from the latter. If, however, they say that these two [only] differ from each other in conceptions, in the first place indeed, 68 they will be deprived of many hypostases ; and in the next place it is necessary to consider, whether any conception of ours can admit the subsistence of an intellect which is alone intelligent, and which does not perceive that it sees intellectually. For when a thing of this kind happens to us who are always attentive to impulses and cogitations, if we are moderately worthy, it becomes the cause to us of folly. When, therefore, that which is truly intellect intellectually perceives itself in its intellections, and the intelligible of it is not externally posited, but intellect itself is also the intelligible, it necessarily follows that in intellectual perception it possesses itself, and sees itself. But seeing itself, it perceives itself not to be void of intelligence, but intelligent. So that in primarily energizing intellectually, it will also have a perception that it sees intellectually, both being as one ; nor can there be any concep¬ tion of duplicity there. If, likewise, always per¬ ceiving intellectually it is that which it is, what place can there be for the conception w hich sepa¬ rates intellectual perception from the perceiving that it sees intellectually P If, however, some one 69 should introduce a third conception to the second, which asserts that it perceives that it sees intellec¬ tually, and should say that it understands, (i. e. sees intellectually) that what understands under¬ stands, the absurdity is still more apparent. And why ma}r not assertions of this kind be made to in¬ finity ? The reason, likewise, proceeding from in¬ tellect which may be adduced, and from which afterwards another reason is generated in the soul, so as to become a medium between intellect and soul, deprives the soul of intellectual perception,* if it does not derive this reason from intellect, but from some other intermediate nature* Hence it would possess an image of reason, but not reason itself. And in short, it would not have a know¬ ledge of intellect, nor would it be intelligent. II. Hence it must not be admitted that there are more principles than these [in the intelligible world,] nor must these superfluous conceptions be adopted, which have no place there ; but it must be said that there is one intellect always subsisting with invariable sameness, and in every respect with¬ out fluctuation, which imitates as much as possible its father ; and with respect to our soul, that one 70 part of it always abides on high,1 that another part of it is conversant with sensibles, and that another has a subsistence in the middle of these. For as there is one nature in many powers, at one time the whole soul tends upward in conjunction with the most excellent part, of itself, and of the uni¬ verse, * but at another time, the worse part being drawn down, draws together with itself the middle part. For it is not lawful that the whole of it should be drawn downward. This passion also happens to the soul, because it did not abide in that which is most beautiful, where the soul which does not rank as a part [continually] abiding, and of which we are not a part, imparts to the whole 1 This is one of the peculiar dogmas of Plotinus, which is however opposed, and 1 think very justly by Prod us, in the last Proposition of his Elements of Theology. “ For if,’’ (as he there says) “ something pertaining to the soul remains on high in the intelligible world, it will always perceive intellec¬ tually, without transition, or transitively. But if without transition, it will be intellect, and not a part of the soul. And if with transition, then from that which always, and from that which sometimes energizes intellectually, one essence will be formed. This, however, is impossible. α From the version of Ficinus, it appears that instead of του ovtos in this place, we should read του παντός. 71 body of the universe, as much as it is able to re¬ ceive from it. At the same time also, this soul remains free from all solicitude, not governing the world by the discursive energy of reason, nor cor¬ recting any thing [in itself ;] but by the vision of that which is prior to itself, adorning the universe with an admirable power. For the more it looks to itself, the more beautiful and powerful it be¬ comes, and possessing these excellencies from the intelligible world, it imparts them to that which is posterior to itself, and as it is always illuminated, it always illuminates. III. Being therefore always illuminated, and continually possessing light, it imparts it to the natures that are in a consequent order. And these are always contained and irrigated by this light, and enjoy life through it, as far as they are able. Just as if a fire being placed in a certain middle, what¬ ever is capable of receiving heat, should be heated by it as much as possible ; though the fire is limited by measure. But when the powers not being measured, are never-failing, how is it possible that they should have an existence, and yet nothing should participate of them ? It is, however, neces- 72 sary that every thing should impart itself to some¬ thing else ; or the good will not be good, nor intel¬ lect be intellect, nor soul be soul ; unless after that which lives primarily, there is also that which has a secondary life, as long as that exists which is pri¬ marily vital. Hence it is necessary that all things should be perpetually consequent to each other, and should be generated by other things, because they depend on others for their subsistence. Things therefore that are said to be generated, were not generated at a certain time, but were and will be rising into existence ; nor will they be corrupted, those things excepted which they contain, into which they may be resolved. But that which has nothing into which it can be resolved, will not be corrupted. If, however, some one should say that things which are in generation may be resolved into matter, we reply, and why may not matter also be dissolved ? But if it is said that matter may be disr solved, we ask what necessity there was that it should be generated ? If they say it was necessary, and therefore it was generated, we reply, and it is also now necessary. But if it should be left alone, divine natures would not be every where, but would be circumscribed in a certain place, as if surrounded 73 with a wall. If, however, this is impossible, mat¬ ter is perpetually 1 2 illuminated [by divinity.] IV. But if they say that soul suffering as it were a defluxion of its wings, made the world, we reply, that this does not befal the soul of the uni¬ verse. If also they say this soul is deceived and in error, they should assign the cause of its decep¬ tion and error. When likewise was it deceived ? For if from eternity, it will for the same a reason remain in error. But if it began at a certain time to be deceived, why was it not deceived prior to that time ? We, however, do not say that the tendency of the soul downward produced the world, but rather the non-tendency of it. But if it tends downward, it is evident that this must arise from its forgetfulness of what the intelligible world contains. And if it is forgetful of these, how did it fabricate the world ? For whence can it make, except from the things which it saw there ? But if it fabricates recollecting the things that are there, it 1 It appears that aei is wanting here in the original. 2 Instead of κατα τον αυτών λογον , it is necessary to read κατα τον αυτόν λογον. 74 has not in short, any tendency downward. For it does not possess nor see them obscurely, if it is without this tendency. And why, if it has any re¬ collection of them, should it not wish to return thither ? For what can it suppose will happen to itself from fabricating the world ? For it is ridi¬ culous to assert that it made the world, in order that it might be honoured, and is an opinion derived from the makers of statues. If, likewise, soul fa¬ bricated by a reasoning process, and did not natu¬ rally possess a producing power, how did it make this world ? When also will it destroy the world ? For if it repented having made it, why does it defer its destruction ? But if it does not yet repent, neither will it ever, as being now accustomed to it, and becoming through time more friendly towards it. If, also, it defers the destruction of the world on account of partial souls, waiting for their union with it, these souls ought not to have descended again into generation, having experienced in a former descent, the evils which are here ; so that prior to the present time they would have ceased to descend. Nor must we grant them that this world was produced in an evil condition, because there are many molestations in it. For this arises 75 from forming too exalted an opinion of this sensible world, and conceiving it to be the same with that which is intelligible, and not the image of it. For what more beautiful image of it could have been generated ? What other fire could be a better image of the fire which is there, than the tire which is here ? Or what other earth than this, of the earth which is there ? What sphere, also, could be more accurate and venerable, or more orderly in its mo¬ tion [than that of this sensible universe,] after the comprehension which is there of the intelligible world in itself? And what other sun after the intel¬ ligible sun, can be prior to this which is the object of sight ? V. It is however truly absurd, that they having a body like other men, together with desires, pains, and anger, should not despise the power of these, but assert that they are able to come into contact with the intelligible, and yet that there is not in the sun a more impassive power, though it exists in a * superior order, and has not as our bodies have, a predominant tendency to a change of quality, and that it has not likewise a wisdom more excellent than we have whose origin is recent^ and who are 76 prevented by so many impediments from arriving at truth. Nor again , is it fit to assert that the soul of the vilest men is immortal and divine , hut that all heaven and the stars that are there , do not participate of immortality , though they consist of things far more beautiful and pure [ than any thing terrestrial ,] and though it is evident that whatever is there is orderly and elegant ; espe¬ cially since they blame the disorder which is about the earth, as if an immortal soul would chitse this inferior abode, and willingly though more excellent be subservient to a mortal soul. The introduction also of this other soul by them is absurd, which according to them derives its composition from the elements. For how can a composition from the elements possess any life? For the mixture of these produces either the hot or the cold, or that which is mingled from both, or the dry, or the moist, or a compound from these. How, likewise, is soul the connecting bond of the four elements, since it consists from and is posterior to them ? But when they also add animadversion and will, and ten thousand other things to this soul, it may be asked why they ascribe these to it. Farther still , they do not honour this sensible fabrication of 77 things , nor this visible earth , but they say that there is a nezv 1 earth produced for them , into which they are to ascend from hence ; and that this new earth is the productive principle of the world ; though why is it necessary that they should dwell in the paradigm of a world which they hate ? Whence likewise does this paradigm subsist P For this, according to them, derived its subsistence from the maker of the world, verging to terrestrial na¬ tures. If, therefore, by the maker of the universe great attention is paid to the production of another world, after the intelligible world which he pos¬ sesses, why is this attention requisite ? And if he \yas thus attentive prior to the world, was it in order that souls might be saved? How is it, there¬ fore, that they are not saved ? So that the world was made in vain. But if he was thus attentive posterior to the world, receiving his knowledge by a spoliation of form from matter, in this case, the skill which souls derive from experience, is suffi¬ cient to their salvation. But if they think that the form of the world should be assumed in souls, from whence is this novel doctrine derived ? 1 It appears from the version of Ficinus, that for νυν here, we should read veav. 78 VI. And why is it requisite to speak of the other hypostases which they introduce, such as transmigrations, repercussions, and repentances ? 1 For if they say that these are the passions of soul when it repents, and repercussions, when it con* templates as it were the images of beings, and not beings themselves, — these are vain assertions, ad¬ duced for the purpose of establishing a peculiar sect. For as they do hot adhere to the ancient wisdom of the Greeks, they fabricate such fictions as these. For the Greeks knew and asserted with¬ out any arrogance and pride, that there are methods of ascent from the cavern [of sense] and gradual progressions to a more and more true survey [of an intelligible essence. ] And, in short, some things are assumed by the Gnostics from Plato, but others 1 Forms or ideas, according to the ancient wisdom of the Greeks, leap into matter, which is adapted by the exemplar of the universe to receive the images of them, and like a mirror gives back the influx of the ideas which it receives. Souls, therefore, falling from the intelligible world become deceived, by mistaking the resemblances of forms for forms themselves, till by repentance they return to their true country, from which they have been as it were banished, through their abode on the earth. The Gnostics perverting this doctrine, gave the names of essences to such like passions of the soul. 79 are innovations of their own, in order that they may establish a peculiar philosophy, and are devia¬ tions from the truth. For the punishments and rivers in Hades, and transmigrations into other bodies, are derived from Plato. The admission, likewise, of multitude in intelligibles, viz. of being and intellect ; and another demiurgus, and soul, is assumed from what is said in the Timaeus. For Plato there says, “ Intellect, therefore, perceiving ideas in that which is animal itself, understood by the discursive energy of reason, that the universe should contain as many as are there.” But they not understanding Plato, introduce an intellect at rest, containing all things in itself ; a second intellect besides this, contemplating what the first contains ; and a third intellect energizing dianoetically. Fre¬ quently, likewise, the fabricating soul is assumed by them for the reasoning intellect. And they fancy that this soul is the Demiurgus, according to Plato ; not knowing who the Demiurgus is. And, in short, they falsely ascribe to Plato the mode of fabrication which they introduce, and many other things, and pervert the opinions of the man ; as if they alone understood an intelligible nature, but he, and other blessed men were ignorant of it. Deno- 80 minating, likewise, the intelligible multitude, they fancy that they have accurately discovered its na¬ ture ; though at the same time, by the multitude which they introduce, they draw down the intelli¬ gible nature into a similitude with that which is sensible and subordinate. For it is necessary to consider intelligible multitude as subsisting accord¬ ing to the least possible number, and ascribing all things to that which is posterior to the first, not to investigate any other intelligibles ; that being all things, and the first intellect and essence, and such other beautiful essences as exist after the first na¬ ture. But we should admit that the form of soul ranks in the third place. Moreover, we should investigate the diffe¬ rences of souls, in passions, or in nature, so as not in any respect to reprehend divine men, but should benevolently receive their assertions, as be¬ ing sanctioned by antiquity, adopting what has been well said by them, respecting the immortality of the soul, the intelligible world, and the first God ; as also, that it is necessary the soul should fly from an association with the body, and that a separa¬ tion from the body is a flight from generation to 81 real essence. For if they were clearly to assert these things, which are admitted by Plato, they would do well. No one , however , will envy their wishing to dissent from these dogmas ; nor their endeavours to establish their own opinions among their auditors , by d faming and insolently attack¬ ing the doctrines of the Greeks., But they ought to demonstrate that their own peculiar opinions, which are different from those of the Greeks, are right ; and should benevolently and philosophically adduce the opinions of the ancients. Justly, also, looking to truth when they oppose the ancients, they ought not to aim at renown by censuring those who from a remote period have been celebrated by no contemptible men, nor assert that they are bet¬ ter than them. For what the ancients have said concerning intelligibles, is much better, and more replete with learning than what they say ; and is easily known to be so by those who are not deceived by the fraud which at present invades mankind . Indeed, the additions which the Gnostics have made to what they received from the ancients, will be found to be by no means appropriate ; and hence in their oppositions to them, they introduce manifold generations and corruptions. They like- Plot. F 82 wise find fault with this universe, reprobate the communion of the soul with body, and blame the governor of the world. They also confound the demiurgus with soul, and ascribe the same passions to the soul of the world as to partial souls. That this world, therefore, never began, nor will ever cease to be, but will continue in exist¬ ence, as long as intelligibles have a subsistence, has been elsewhere shown by us. And that the com¬ munion of our soul with the body, is not better for the soul, has been asserted prior to them. But that the soul of the universe should receive any thing from ours, is just as if some one adducing the tribe of potters or braziers, in a well-governed city, should blame the whole city [on their account.] It is necessary, however, to be persuaded that the soul of the universe governs in a way very different from ours ; and not bound to body as our souls are. For besides ten thousand other differences which we have elsewhere enumerated, this also ought to be considered, that we are bound by the body, the bond being now in reality produced. For the na¬ ture of body being bound in the whole soul, binds together with itself whatever it may comprehend ; 83 but the soul of the universe is not bound by the things which it binds. For it has dominion over them. Hence it is not passively affected by them. We, however, are not the lords of these. But so much of the soul of the world as is raised to the divine nature which is above it, so much of it re¬ mains entire and simple, and without impediment ; and so much of it as imparts life to the body whth which it is connected, receives nothing from it. For, in short, that which is in something different from itself, necessarily receives the passive proper» ties of that in which it is. But this no longer im¬ parts any thing of itself to that which possesses its own proper life. Just as if one thing should be centrically inserted in another, and which is co¬ passive with that in which it is inserted ; but the latter being decayed, should permit the former to have its own life ; since, neither when the fire which is in you is extinct, is the wholeness of fire extinguished. Nor if the whole of fire should perish, this would not affect the soul of the universe, but the composition of the mundane body. And if in each of the remaining elements there should be a certain world, this would not affect the soul of the universe, since the composition of the world is 84 different from that of each of the animals which it contains* For the soul of the world stands as it were over its body* and orders it to abide ; but here the elements secretly as it were withdrawing themselves, are bound in their proper order by a secondary bond. In the former case, however, they have no place into which they can fly. Hence, it is neither necessary to contain them internally, nor by external compression to impel them inwardly ; but each remains where nature from the first in¬ tended it should remain. And if any one of them is naturally moved, those things to which motion is not natural are affected by it. The bodies, how- ever? which are naturally moved, are moved in a beautiful manner, as being parts of the w hole ; but certain things are corrupted, in consequence of not being able to sustain the order of the whole. Just as if in a great dance, which is conducted in a be¬ coming manner, a tortoise being caught in the middle of the progression, should he trod upon, not being able to escape the order of the dance ; though if the tortoise had arranged itself with the dance, it would not have suffered from those that composed it. 35 To enquire, however, why the world was made, is the same thing as to ask why soul is ; and why the demiurgus made it ? For this indeed, in the first place, is the enquiry of those who suppose there is a beginning of perpetuity. In the next place, they fancy that the demiurgus became the cause of the fabrication of the world, through being changed from one thing to another. Hence, they are to be taught, if they are equitably disposed, what the nature of these things is, that they may cease to revile what is honourable, which they will easily do, if they become properly cautious respect¬ ing such like particulars. For no one can rightly blame the administration of the universe, since in the first place it demonstrates the magnitude of an intelligible nature. For if it proceeds into life in such a way, as not to have an indistinct and con¬ fused life, such as the smallest natures in it possess, which are perpetually generated night and day through the abundant life it contains ; but is con¬ tinued, clear and abundant, and is every where a liie exhibiting an inestimable wisdom., how is it possible not to assert that it is a perspicuous and beautiful statue of the intelligible Gods ? But if though it imitates the intelligible paradigm it is not the same with it, this is conformable to nature ; since if it were the same with, it would no longer imitate it. The assertion, however, is false, that it imitates this paradigm in a dissimilar manner. For nothing is omitted, which a beautiful and natural image can possibly possess ; since it was indeed necessary that this imitation should exist, but yet that it should not be an imitation resulting- from the discursive energy of reason, and an artificial care. For it was not possible that the intelligible should be the last of things ; since it was necessary that the energy of it should be twofold, one indeed abid¬ ing in itself, but the other proceeding into something else. Hence it was necessary that there should be something posterior to it. For that alone which is the most powerless of all things, has nothing of it¬ self which proceeds downwards. But an admirable power flourishes in intelligibles, so that this power perpetually 1 fabricates. If, however, there is another [sensible] world better than this, what is it ? But if it is neces- x It appears from the version of Ficinus, that aei is, here wanting in the original. And indeed, the sense requires it should be inserted. 87 sary that this world should exist, and there is no other, it is this world which preserves the imitation of the intelligible universe. For the whole earth indeed, is full of various animals, and of immortal beings; and all things are replete with these, as far as to the heavens. And with respect to the stars, both those which are in the inferior spheres, and those which are in the highest orb, what reason can be assigned why they are not Gods, since they are moved in order, and revolve with such beauti- ful bodies P Why should they not possess virtue, or what can hinder them from obtaining it? For those things have no place there, which are the causes of evils here ; nor is that evil of body there, which here is disturbed and disturbs. What, likewise, prevents celestial natures from possessing intellec¬ tual energy, since they are always at leisure, and from receiving in their intellect divinity, and the other intelligible Gods ? But to assert that our wis¬ dom is more excellent than theirs, wall be said by no one who is not insane ; since if souls have de¬ scended hither, through being compelled by the soul of the world, how since they suffer compulsion are they better than that soul ? For in souls, that which has dominion is more excellent. And if 88 souls descended hither voluntarily, why do you blame this sensible region, into which you willingly came ? Especially since you may be liberated from it, if it is not agreeable to you to stay. If, how¬ ever, this universe is a place of such a kind, that it is possible to obtain wisdom in it, and while dwell¬ ing here to live according to a similitude of intelli- gibles, does not this testify that sensible are sus¬ pended from intelligible forms ? IX. If, however, some one should blame wealth and poverty, and the inequality in the dispensation of every thing of this kind, in the first place, such a one is ignorant that the worthy man does not seek for equality in such like particulars ; nor is of opi¬ nion that those who possess many things, have more [of good ;] nor that rulers are better than private individuals, but suffers others to make such things as these the objects of their pursuit. He also knows that the present life is twofold, the one being that of worthy men, but the other that of the mul¬ titude. And that the life of worthy men tends to the summit, and that w hich is on high ; but that the life which is merely human is again tw’ofold, the one kind being mindful of virtue, and partici- 89 paling of a certain good, but the other pertaining to the vile rabble and to artificers, who administer to the necessities of more worthy men. But if one man slays another, or is vanquished by pleasure, through imbecility of mind, what is there wonder¬ ful in this, since the guilt is not in intellect, but in souls that are of a puerile nature? And if this should happen to be an exercise of the victors and the vanquished, how is it possible that this also should not subsist rightly ? But if you should be injured, what dreadful thing is there in this to an immortal nature ? And if you kill another [instead of being killed yourself,] you have what you wish. If, however, you still blame the administration of things, there is no necessity for you to continue any longer in life. But it is acknowledged that there are judicial decisions here, and punishments. How, therefore, is it right to blame a city for distri¬ buting to every one according to his desert, since virtue is honoured in it, and vice has its appropriate disgrace ? There are, likewise, in the world, not only statues of the Gods, but the Gods themselves, beholding from on high, who easily, as it is said, escape the accusations of men, since they conduct all things in order from the beginning to the end, 90 and distribute an appropriate allotment to every one, conformable to the mutations of lives, and to actions in a pre-existent state ; of which he who is ignorant, is of all men the most rash and rustic in divine concerns. It is requisite, however, that you should endeavour to become a most excellent cha¬ racter, and not think that you alone are able to become so ; for thus you will not yet be. most ex¬ cellent. But you ought to be persuaded that there are other transcendently good men, and also good daemons ; and much more Gods, who dwell in this world, and look to that which is intelligible ; and especially that there is that most blessed soul the leader and ruler of this universe. From hence also , it is proper that you should celebrate the in¬ telligible Gods ; and besides all these , the great king which is there , and should demonstrate that the magnitude of his nature especially consists in the multitude of Gods . For it is the province if those who know the power of God , not to contract this power into one , but to shoxv that the amplitude of divinity is as great as he himsef has demon¬ strated it to be ; since remaining that which he is , he has produced many Gods , all of whom are sus¬ pended from , and subsist through and by him . 91 This world , likewise , w through him , /ooA\9 ifo to divinity , #<9 ztos too each of the Gods , prophetically announce to men what they there behold , and by oracles unfold their will . If, however, the Gods that proceed from, are not the same with the first God, this very thing also is according to nature. But if you wish to despise superior beings, and arrogantly extol your¬ self as not inferior to them, in the first place [it should be remembered,] that by how much more excellent any one is, by so much the more is he benevolently disposed towards all other beings, and towards mankind. And in the next place, it is proper to have a moderate conception of our own dignity, and unaccompanied with any rusticity ; exalting ourselves only so far as our nature is able to ascend ; conceiving that there is also a place with divinity for others, as well as for ourselves, and not, as if flying in a dream, arrange ourselves alone immediately after the highest God ; and thus deprive ourselves of that power by which it is pos¬ sible for the soul of man to become a God. But this is possible so far as intellect is the leader of the soul. To attempt, however, to pass beyond intel» lect, is to fall from intellect. But stupid men are 92 persuaded when they suddenly hear such sounds as these : “ You are better , not only than all other men , to than the Gods ? For there is much arrogance among men [of the present time.] And he who prior to this was humble and modest , and a man of no consequence , becomes exalted beyond measure when he is told, u You are the son of God , but other men whom you formerly admired , are not the sons of God ; as neither are those beings which men honor conformably to the rites of their ancestors . It may be shown , however , without any labour , that you are more excellent than the heavens themselves? 1 Others, also, vociferate the same things. Just as if some one in the company of many persons who knew not how to numerate, 1 Of this most stupid and arrogant opinion was the slashing Dr. Bentley, as Pope calls him, as is evident from the follow¬ ing extract : Nor do we count it any absurdity, that such a vast and immense universe should be made for the sole use of such mean and unworthy creatures as the children of men. For if we consider the dignity of an intelligent being, and put that in the scales against brute inanimate matter, we may affirm, without over-valuing human nature, that the soul of one virtuous and religious man, is of greater worth and excellency than the sun and his planets, and all the stars in the world.” See Bentley's Sth Sermon at Boyles Lectures, 93 should hear it said that he was a thousand cubits in height. If, therefore, he should think himself so tall as this, but should hear that other men were five cubits in height, he would only have a con¬ fused imagination that a thousand was a great number. Farther still, they acknowledge that the provi¬ dence of God is attentive to human concerns. Why, therefore, does he neglect the whole world, of which we are a part ? If it is because he is not at leisure to look to it, neither therefore is it lawful for him to survey that which is inferior and us. if Why also, while he surveys us, does he not behold that which is external ; and thus look to the world in wyhich we are contained ? But if he does not look to that wdrich is external, in order that he roav not see the world, neither will he behold us. Di¬ vinity, however, knows the order of the wrorld, and the manner in which men who are contained in it subsist. Those, also, who are dear to divinity, bear mildly whatever happens to them from the world, if any thing necessarily befals them from the motion of all things. For it is not proper to look to what is pleasing to an individual, but we should direct our attention to the universe, and honour every one according to his desert ; hastening to that goal to which all things that are able hasten* 9 and by the attainment of which they become blessed ; some things as far as they have ability obtaining an allotment adapted to their nature. Nor should any man ascribe this ability to himself alone. For it does not follow that a man possesses what he pretends to possess ; since many assert they possess that of which they know they are des* titute, and also fancy they have a thing when they have it not, and that they alone are the possessors of that which they alone do not possess. X. He, therefore, who investigates many other particulars, or rather every particular respecting their opinions, will be able to show copiously what the nature of them is. We, indeed, are ashamed of certain of our friends,1 who before they were in¬ timate with us were conversant with these opinions, and who still, I know not how, persevere in them, and endeavour to render them credible. We, how¬ ever, speak to those with whom we are acquainted, 1 Plotinus, I suppose, alludes here to Origen the Christian father, among others, who had formerly been one of his dis¬ ciples. 95 and not to the many who are auditors of these men. For we shall effect nothing by endeavouring to persuade them not to be disturbed by the argu¬ ments of the Gnostics, which are not accompanied with demonstrations ; (for how is it possible they should ?) but are the assertions of arrogant men. For there is another mode of properly confuting those who dare to reprehend the doctrines of an¬ cient and divine men, and a mode which adheres to the truth. We shall, therefore, dismiss the enquiry how they are to be persuaded. For those who accurately understand what has now been said, will know what the nature is of every other particular. We shall dismiss, however, the consideration of that assertion which surpasses every thing in absur¬ dity, if it is requisite to call it an absurdity, viz. that soul and a certain wisdom verged downward, whether soul w^as the first that began to verge, or wisdom was the cause of this tendency to an infe¬ rior condition, or both had the same intention# They add, that other souls and the members of wisdom descended at the same time, and entered bodies, such for instance as those of men. They say, however, that the soul for the sake of which other souls descended, did not descend, as if it did 96 not verge downward, but that it only illuminated the darkness ; and that afterwards an image was from thence produced in matter. Again, also, after this fashioning an image of an image, they assert that it pervades through matter or mate¬ riality, or whatever else they may please to call it y for they call this by one name, and that by another, devising many appellations for the purpose of ren¬ dering what they say obscure. And thus they generate what is denominated by them the dumiur- gus. Making the world, likewise, to revolt from the mother, they say that it proceeds from the demiurgus as far as to the last of images/ XL In the first place, therefore, if this sou! did not descend, but illuminated the darkness, how can it be rightly said to have verged downward ? For it is not proper to say that it now verged, be¬ cause something flowed from it such as light ; un¬ less one thing belonging to it was situated in the * After ttiis in the original, the words tva σφοδρά Χοώορη- στρ-αι ο τούτο γραφ as follow, i. e. “ in order that he who writes this may be more vehemently reprehended." But as I do not see what connection they have with the words immediately preceding them, 1 have not inserted' them in the translation. 97 region beneath, but another proceeded locally to this region, and becoming near to it, illuminated it. But if this soul illuminated, abiding in itself, and not at all operating for this purpose, why did this soul alone illuminate, and not those natures also which are more powerful than it in the order of beings ? If, however, they say that this soul, in con¬ sequence of forming a rational conception of the wrorld, illuminated it from the discursive energy of reason, why did it not at one and the same time illuminate and make the world, but instead of this waited for the generation of images ? In the next place, this rational conception of the world, which is called by them a foreign land, and which was produced as they say by greater causes, did not occasion the makers of it to verge downward. Be¬ sides, how did it happen that matter being illumi¬ nated, made psychical images, but not the nature of bodies ? For the image of soul, would not be at all in want of darkness or matter ; but that which was generated wrould when generated follow its maker, and be suspended from him. Again, whe¬ ther is this illumination from a reasoning process, essence, or as they say, a conception ? For if it is essence, what is the difference between it, and that Plot . G 98 from which it proceeds ? But if it is another species of soul, and this rational, perhaps it is vegetable and generative. If, however, this he the case, how will it any longer be true that it made the world in order that it might be honoured for so doing ; and how did it make it through arrogance and audacity, and in short, through imagination ? And still more absurd is it, that it should have made the world through a reasoning process. Why, also, was it requisite, that the fabricator of the world should have made it from matter and an image ? But if this illumination is a conception, in the first place it must be shown whence the name derives its ori¬ gin ; and in the next place how it produces, unless it imparts to the conception a fabricative power. But how can there be production with a fiction ? They will say, that this thing is first, and another is posterior to it. This, however, is asserted with¬ out any authority. Why, also, wras fire the first thing produced, [and afterwards other things ?] XI L After what manner, likewise, did this image wdien just produced attempt to fabricate ? Was it through a recollection of what it previously knew ? But in short it had not then an existence, 99 neither itself, nor the mother which they assign to it, in order that it might know this. In the next place, is it not wonderful, since they came into this world, not as images of souls, but as true souls, that scarcely one or two of them being raised from the world, and recovering their recollection, have been able to remember something of what they for¬ merly saw ; and yet this image, as soon as it was generated, formed a conception, though as they say, obscurely, of supernal natures ? Or that this should have been the case with the mother of it, who is a material image ; and that it should not only have formed a conception of these natures, and of both this and the intelligible world, but should also have learned what the things are from which the sensible universe was generated* Whence did it conceive that fire should first be produced, and think that this was necessary? For why did it not conceive this of something else ? But if it was able to produce fire from the conception of it, why did it not produce the world from a conception of the world ? For it is in a similar manner requisite, that the production of the world should be simulta¬ neous with the conception of it. For both fire and the world were comprehended in the conception of 100 them ; since this image fabricated entirely in a more physical way, and not like the arts. For the arts are posterior both to nature and the world. And even now, in the individuals which are gene¬ rated by natures, fire is not first produced, after¬ wards each particular, and in the next place the mixture of these, but the enclosure and circum¬ scription of the v/hole animal, impressed in the menstrual effluxions. Why, therefore, might not matter be there circumscribed in the impression of the world, in which impression, earth and fire and the rest of things were comprehended ? But per¬ haps they would thus have made the world, in con^ sequence of employing a more true soul. The artificer of the world, however, knew not how to make it in this manner, though he foresaw the de¬ finite magnitude of the heavens, the obliquity of the zodiac, the motion of the bodies under it, and [the central position of] the earth ; and all this in such a way as to possess the causes through which they thus subsist ; though such foreknowledge could not belong to an image, but entirely proceeded from a power derived from the best of things, and which they also though unwillingly acknowledge. For the illumination diffused through the darkness, 101 compels them to assent to the true causes of the world. For why was it requisite to illuminate, if it was not entirely necessary ? For this necessity was either according to nature, or preternatural. And if, indeed, it was according to nature, this illu¬ mination always existed ; but if it w'as preter¬ natural* then among supernal beings that which is irregular had a subsistence, and evils existed prior to this world. Hence, this world is not the cause of evil, but supernal beings are the causes of evils to the world. And evil to the soul is not from the universe, but the evils that are here are derived from soul. And thus by a reasoning process we are led to refer the world to the first of things. But if matter also is the cause of evil, whence does it appear that it is so ? For soul verging downward, saw', as they say, the darkness, and illuminated it. Whence, therefore, did the darkness originate ? For if they say that soul verging downward pro¬ duced it, then it will follow that the darkness did not exist prior to this downward tendency of the soul. Nor will the darkness itself be the cause of this tendency, but the nature of soul. This, how¬ ever, is the same thing as to attribute the cause to 102 precedaneous necessities. So that the cause is from the first of beings. XIII. He therefore who blames the nature of the world, does not know what he does, nor whi¬ ther this audacity of his tends. This, however, arises from the Gnostics not knowing the succes¬ sive order of things, viz. of first, second, and third natures, this order always extending itself as far as to the last of things, and from not considering that subordinate beings ought not to revile such as are first, but should mildly yield to the nature of all things ; and that they should betake them¬ selves to the first of beings, abandoning the tragic fears, which they fancy are produced from the spheres of the world, all which are the causes of bland effects. For what do they contain of a terri¬ ble nature, with which those that are unskilled in arguments, and such as are strangers to erudite and elegant knowledge, are terrified ? For though the bodies of these spheres are of a fiery 1 charac- 1 The fire of which the heavenly bodies consists is unburn- ing and innoxious, perpetually shining, as Proclus says in the Timaeus, with viviftc heat, illuminative power, purity, and transparent light. 103 teristic, yet it is not proper to be afraid of them, since they subsist with commensuration both to the universe and to the earth* But they ought to look to 1 the souls of these spheres, by whom they ima¬ gine themselves to be considered as beings of a very honourable nature, though their bodies trans¬ cendency surpass ours both in magnitude and beauty, and contribute to and co-operate with na¬ tural effects. For otherwise subordinate beings would not be generated, as long as the first of things subsist. These spheres also give completion to the universe, of which they are likewise mighty parts. If men, however, possess something ho¬ nourable beyond other animals, much more do the starry spheres, which do not exist in the universe for tyrannical purposes, but impart to it ornament and order. But with respect to those things which are said to be effected by them, these are to be considered as signs of future events ; and that things which are generated are produced accompa¬ nied with different fortunes. For it is not possible that the same things should happen to each indivi- * For ci be ras ψνχαε here, it is necessary to read eis be ras ψνχας. 104 dual, since they are much distant from eaeh other, in the times of their generation, the places in which they reside, and in the dispositions of the soul. Nor again, is it fit to require that all things should be [perfectly] good, nor, because this is impossible, rashly to blame [the order of the universe.1] Nor is it proper to think that these inferior differ in no respect from superior natures, or to conceive that to be evil which is more defective with respect to the possession of wisdom, and is less good, and thus always considering a thing to be evil in pro¬ portion as it is more inconsiderable. Just as if some one should say that nature is evil, because it is not sense. And that what is sensitive is evil, because it is not reason. For those who thus think must be compelled to assert that evil also subsists in the intelligible world. For there, likewise, soul is inferior to intellect, and intellect to something else [or the good.'] XIV. After another manner, also, they espe- 1 The words την ταζιν τον ? rarros are omitted in the origi¬ nal j but both the sense, and the version of Ficinus, require they should be inserted. 105 ciallv make supernal natures not to be incorrupti¬ ble. For when they write incantations, and utter them as to the stars, not only to [the bodies 1 and] souls of these, but also to things superior to soul, what do they effect ? They answer, charms, allure¬ ments, and persuasions, so that the stars hear the words addressed to them, and are drawn down ; if any one of us knows how in a more artificial manner to utter these incantations, sounds, aspira¬ tions of the voice, and hissings, and such other par¬ ticulars as in their writings are said to possess a magical power. If, however, they are not willing to assert this, but that sounds possess certain in¬ corporeal powers, it will follow that while they wish to render their assertions more venerable, they ignorantly subvert their renown. They likewise pretend that they can expel disease. And if, in¬ deed, they say that they effect this by temperance and an orderly mode of life, they speak rightly, and conformably to philosophers. But now when they assert that diseases are dasmons, and that they are * Instead of ου μονον irpos την ψυχήν in the original, from the version of Ficinus, it is necessary to read, ου μονον rrpos τα σώματα αλλα και την ψνχην . 106 able to expel these by words, and proclaim that they possess this ability, they may appear to the multitude to be more venerable, who admire the powers of magicians ; but they will not persuade intelligent men that diseases have not their causes either from labours, or satiety, or indigence, or pu¬ trefaction, and in short from mutations which either have an external or internal origin. This, how¬ ever, is manifest from the cure of diseases. For disease is deduced downward, so as to pass away externally, either through a flux of the belly, or the operation of medicine. Disease, also, is cured by letting of blood, and fasting. Perhaps, however, [they will say] that the daemon is then hungry, and the medicine causes him to waste away ; but that sometimes health is suddenly obtained, through the daemon departing, or remaining within the body. But if this is effected while the daemon still remains within, why, while he is within, is the person no longer diseased ? And if he departs, what is the cause of his departure? For what did he suffer? Is it because he was nourished by the disease ? The disease, therefore, was something different from the daemon. In the next place, if the daemon enters without any cause, why is not the body al- 107 ways diseased ? But if he enters when the cause of the disease is present, why is the daemon necessary in order to the body becoming diseased ? For the cause is sufficient to produce the fever. At the same time, however, it is ridiculous, that as soon as the cause of the disease exists, the daemon should immediately be present, as if subsisting in conjunc¬ tion with the cause. The manner, however, in which these things are asserted by the Gnostics, and on what account is evident ; since for the sake of this, no less than of other things, we have men¬ tioned these dasmons. Other particulars, however, we shall leave to the consideration of the reader. And this must every where he considered , that he who pursues our form of philosophy > will , besides all other goods , genuinely exhibit simple and vene¬ rable manners , in conjunction with the possession of wisdom , and will not endeavour to become inso¬ lent and proud ; but will possess confidence accom¬ panied with reason , much security and caution , and great circumspection .* There are four lines more in this section in the original ; hut the meaning of them is so very obscure, that I have not attempted to translate them. 108 XV. What these assertions, however, effect iri the souls of those that hear them, persuading them to despise the world , and the things that are in it, ought not by any means to be concealed from us. For there are two sects of philosophers with re¬ spect to the attainment of the end of life, one of which places the pleasure of the body as the end ; but the other chooses the beautiful and virtue, the desire of which is derived and suspended from God. The manner, however, in which this is ac¬ complished, must be elsewhere discussed. And Epicurus, indeed, taking away providence, exhorts us to pursue pleasure and delight, as the only things which then remain. But the doctrine of the Gnos¬ tics, as still more juvenile than this, blames the domination of providence, and providence itself, despises all human laws, and virtue which has ex¬ isted in every age, and considers temperance as ridiculous, in order that nothing beautiful and good may be seen to subsist among men. Together with temperance also it subverts justice which is con- nascent with it in manners, and which derives its perfection from reason and exercise ; and in short, it subverts every thing by which a man may become a worthy character. Hence, nothing else is left 109 for them to pursue but pleasure, and their own concerns and utility, and not that which is com¬ mon to other men ; unless some one among them happens to be superior to these assertions. For none of the abovementioned particulars are consi¬ dered as beautiful by them, but something else whatever it may be which they pursue ; though they ought to endeavour to correct those with whom they are well acquainted, applying themselves from a divine nature to human concerns. For it is the province of this nature which despises the pleasure of the body, to know what is beautiful and good. But those who are destitute of virtue, are not at all excited to supernal natures. This is testified by their never saying any thing about virtue, and by their entirely omitting the discussion of things per¬ taining to it. Nor do they say what virtue is , or how many virtues there are , or direct their atten¬ tion to the numerous and beautiful assertions which may be surveyed in the writings of the ancients , or to the means of acquiring and possessing virtue , and of cultivating and purify ing the soul For it is to no purpose to say , look to God , unless you also teach how we are to look to him. For what hinders , some one may say , but that a man may look to God 110 who does not abstain from any one pleasure , and who suffers his anger to be without any restraint ; such a one recollecting indeed the name of God , but being held in bondage by all the passions , and not at all endeavouring to expel them ? Virtue , there¬ fore, indeed proceeding to the end [i. e. to its per¬ fection ,] and being ingenerated in the soul in con¬ junction with wisdom , will present God to the view , But to speak of God without true virtue , is to utter nothing but a name . XVI. Again , to despise the zvorld, and the Gods , and other beautiful natures that are con¬ tained in it, is not to become a good man. For every bad man will in the first place despise the Gods ; and no one is completely bad till he does despise them . Hence, if he is not bad in every thing else, from this very thing he will become so. For the honour which the Gnostics say is paid by them to the intelligible Gods, is utterly incongruous . For he who loves any thing, is delighted with every thing which is allied to the object of his love. For you also love the children of the father whom you love. But every soul is the daughter of the father of the universe. And the souls in the mundane Ill spheres, are intellectual, and good, and are united to intelligible essences much more than ours . For how could this world be separated from the intelli¬ gible world ; or the Gods in it, from the intelligi¬ ble Gods ? But these things have been discussed by us before. Now, however, we must say, that those who despise things allied to the intelligible Gods, have no knowledge of those Gods, except what is merely verbal. For how can it be pious to assert as they do, that providence does not extend to terrene affairs, and to every thing whatever it may be ? How also is this consonant to their own doctrine ? For they say that divinity providentially attends to them alone. Whether, therefore, did he pay attention to them while they were with super¬ nal natures, or does he also attend to them during their existence here P For if the former, how came they to descend ? But if the latter, how is it that they are still upon the earth ? How, likewise, does it happen that divinity is not present in the earth ? For whence does he know that they are here, and that being here and revolting from him, they have become evil ? But if he has a knowledge of souls that have not become evil, he will also know those that have, in order that he may be able to distin- 112 guish the former from the latter. He will, there¬ fore, be present to all things, and will be in this world, whatever the mode may be of his subsistence in it. So that the world will participate of him. But if he is absent from the world, he will also be absent from you ; and you will not have any thing to say either about him, or the natures posterior to him. But whether a certain providence proceeds from divinity to you, or whatever you may think fit to assert respecting it, the world certainly derives its subsistence from thence, and is not, nor ever will be, deserted by him. For the providence of divinity is in a much greater degree extended to wholes than to parts ; and the former of these par¬ ticipate of him more abundantly than the latter. And much more does he providentially attend to the soul of the world. This is evident from the existence of the world, and from the wisdom of the mode in which it exists. For xvho among those that are stupidly proud , is so orderly and wise as the universe? Indeed, to compare the one with the other is ridiculous, and is attended with great absurdity. Hence, when the comparison is made for any other purpose than that of argument, it is attended with impiety. Nor is it the province of 113 a wise man to investigate things of this kind [as if he was dubious about them,] but of one who is men¬ tally blind , who is entirely destitute both of sense and intellect , and who being very remote from a knowledge of the intelligible world , does not look to the sensible universe. For what musician is there, who on perceiving the harmony in the intelligible world, is not moved when he hears the harmony arising from sensible sounds? Or who that is skilled in geometry and numbers, when he beholds through his eyes that which is commensurate, ana¬ logous and orderly, is not delighted with the view ? For those who view through the eyes the produc¬ tions of art, in pictures, do not behold them in the same way as they do the originals of which they are the resemblances. But the geometrician and arithmetician, knowing in the sensible object the imitation of that w hich subsists in intellection, they are as it were agitated, and brought to the recollec¬ tion of reality. And from this passion also, love is excited. He however, who sees beauty resplen¬ dent in the face, tends thither. But his mind must be dull and sluggish in the extreme, and incapable of being incited to any thing else, who on seeing all the beautiful objects in the sensible world, all this Plot . H 114 symmetry and great arrangement of things, and the form apparent in the stars though so remote, is not from this view mentally agitated, and does not venerate them as admirable productions of still more admirable causes. For he who is not thus affected, will neither direct his attention to the one, nor have a knowledge of the other. XVII. If also, they are induced to hate the nature of body, because they have heard that Plato greatly blames it as being an impediment to the soul, and says, that the whole of a corporeal nature is inferior to the soul, yet separating this by the discursive energy of reason, it is requisite to survey what remains, viz. the intelligible sphere, compre¬ hending in itself the form of the world, souls in an orderly series without bodies, imparting magnitude according to the intelligible, and producing it into interval ; so that the magnitude of that which is generated, may as much as possible be adequate to the im parti bility of the paradigm. For that which is there great in power, is here great in bulk. And whether they wish to understand this sphere as cir¬ cularly moved by a divine power, which contains the beginning, middle, and end of the whole sphere, 115 or whether they consider it as stable* and not yet governing any thing else* they will thus be led to form a proper conception of the soul which go» verns this universe. They ought likewise to con¬ nect body with this soul in such a manner that soul may not be at all passive, but may impart some¬ thing to the body, which it is able to receive, be¬ cause it is not lawful there should be envy in the Gods. They should likewise ascribe such a power to the soul of the world, as is able to render the nature of body which is not of itself beautiful, a participant of beauty as far as it is capable of being adorned ; which beauty also excites divine souls. Unless, indeed, the Gnostics should say that their souls are not excited by beauty, and that they do not in a different manner survey deformed and beautiful bodies. If, however, this be the case, neither are they differently affected by base and beautiful studies, nor by beautiful disciplines and the contraries to these. Hence neither do they perceive the transcendency of the contemplative energy, nor of God himself. For on account of first natures the above-mentioned particulars sub¬ sist. If, therefore, the latter are not beautiful, neither are the former. Hence, the latter are beau- 116 tiful after the former. When, however, they say that they despise the beauty which is here, they would do well to despise the beauty in boys and women, so as not to be vanquished by lust. But it is requisite to know that they ought not to boast, if they despise what is base, but if they despise what they before had acknowledged to be beautiful, and by which they were in a certain respect affect¬ ed. In the next place it must be observed, that there is not the same beauty in a part and the whole, in all individuals and the universe. And in the third place, that there is so great a beauty even in sensibles, and partial natures such as dasmons, as to cause us to admire the maker of these, and to believe that they are derived from him. Hence, when we are not detained by these lower beauties, but proceed from these without reviling them to supernal natures, we then proclaim that the beauty of the latter is immense. And if, indeed, we are inwardly as well as outwardly beautiful, we must say that the one accords with the other. But if we are internally bad, we ought then to acknowledge that we suffer a diminution in things of a more ex- cellent nature. Nothing, however, that is truly beautiful externally, is internally deformed. For 117 every thing which is externally beautiful, is so in consequence of the domination of inward beauty. But those who are said to be beautiful, and are at the same time internally deformed, have a false external beauty. And if some one should say that he has seen those who are outwardly truly beauti¬ ful, but are inwardly base, I am of opinion that he has not seen such persons, but has mistaken others for them ; or if he has seen them, their inward de¬ formity has been adventitious to them, they being naturally beautiful. For there are many impedi¬ ments here which prevent our arriving at the. end. But what is there to prevent the universe which is externally beautiful from being so internally ? Moreover, those to whom nature has not given per¬ fection from the beginning, are perhaps incapable of arriving at the end ; so that it is possible for them to become depraved. The universe, how¬ ever, was never once a child so as to be imperfect ; nor does it acquire any thing new 1 by proceeding, and which is added to its body. For whence could it acquire this ? Since it already possessed all things. Nor can any addition to the soul of it be devised* 1 τι vtov is omitted in the original.. 118 But even if some one should grant the Gnostics that there can, yet nothing evil can be added to it- XVII I. Perhaps, however, they will say that they by their arguments cause those who believe in them, to fly far from, and hate the body, but that our doctrines detain the soul in body. But this is just as if two persons dwelling in the same house, one of them should blame the furniture and the builder of it, and yet nevertheless stay in it ; but the other should not blame either of these, but assert that the builder of it had constructed it in a most artificial manner, and should wait for the time as long as he dwells in it, in which he may be liberated, and may no longer be in want of a house. The former of these, however, is thought to be the wiser of the two, and more prepared to depart, because he knows that the house is composed of inanimate stones and wood, and is very far from being a true edifice, though he is ignorant of the great difference between bearing [properly,] and not bearing things of a necessary nature ; since he would not be indignant if he was moderately pleased with the beauty of the stones. It is 119 necessary, however, that those who have a body should remain in the habitations which are fabri¬ cated by a sister beneficent soul, and who possesses an abundant power of fabricating without labour. Indeed the Gnostics think fit to call the vilest men their brethren , but refuse thus to denominate the sun , and the other stars ; and with an insane mouth separate the soul of the world from an alli¬ ance with ours . While, therefore, we are bad, it is not indeed lawful to conjoin us with supernal natures ; but then only this can take place, when we become worthy, since we are not bodies, but souls resident in bodies, and capable of dwelling in them in such a manner, as to approximate very nearly to the mode in which the soul of the universe inhabits the whole bodv of the world. This «/ however, consists in being free from impulsion, in not yielding to externally-acceding pleasures, or visible objects, and in not being disturbed at any severe occurrence. The soul of the world, there¬ fore, is not impelled ; for there is not any tiling by which it can be. And we dwelling in this region of sense, may indeed by virtue repel the percus¬ sions of external objects, so as by magnitude and 120 strength of decision, to diminish some of the per» cussions, and prevent others from taking place. But when we proximately accede - to that which cannot be impelled, then we shall imitate the soul of the universe, and the soul of the stars, and be¬ coming near through similitude, we shall hasten to be one and the same with them. Then also those things which w?ere the objects of their vision from the first, will be ours, in consequence of being well prepared for this [felicitous event] both by nature and study The Gnostics, however, will not, by saying that they alone are able to survey [divine natures] behold more of them on this account ; nor because they assert that when they die they shall entirely lay aside the body, though this is not per¬ mitted to the souls that always adorn the heavens. For Ihey say this through ignorance of the meaning of being out of the body, and of the manner in which the whole soul of the universe pays attention to that which is inanimate. It is possible there¬ fore, not to be a lover of body, to become pure, to despise death, to have a knowledge of more excel¬ lent natures, and to make them the objects of pur- suit ; and also not to envy those who are able to 121 pursue them, and always do so, as if they did not. Nor should we be affected in the same manner as those who fancy that the stars do not move, be¬ cause sense announces to them that they stand still. For on this account also, the Gnostics fancy, that the nature of the stars does not survey the intelli- gibles that are as it were external to them, because they themselves do not see the soul of them exter¬ nally subsisting. 122 ON THE IMPASSIVITY OF INCORPOREAL NATURES. I. If we should say that the senses are not passions, but energies and judgments about the passions, the passions indeed subsisting about some» thing else, as for instance about a body affected in a certain manner, but judgment about the soul; judgment not being passion, for if it were, another judgment would again be necessary, and thus we should be obliged to proceed in an infinite ascent ; —if we should thus speak, it would nevertheless be here dubious, whether judgment itself has nothing in it of the subject of its decision, or whether if it has an impression of it, it is not passively affected. At the same time, however, let us speak about these impressions as they are called, and show that 123 the mode of their subsistence is entirely different from what it is apprehended to be, and is such as that of intellections, which being energies are able to know without passivity. And in short, neither our reason, nor our will permits us to subject the soul to such conversions and changes in quality, as are the calefactions and refrigerations of bodies. With respect to what is called the passive part of the soul also, it is requisite to see and consider, whether we must admit this likewise to be immuta¬ ble, or grant that passivity belongs to this alone. This however, we shall discuss hereafter. But let us now direct our attention to the doubts pertain¬ ing to the former particulars. For it is dubious how that part of the soul, whatever it may be, is immutable, which is prior to the passive part, and to sense, since depravity is ingenerated in it, and false opinions and ignorance ; and besides these, familiarity and alleniation, when it is pleased and pained, is angry and envious, is emulous and desir¬ ous ; and in short, which is never quiescent, but is moved and changed by every incidental circum¬ stance. If, indeed, the soul is body and has mag¬ nitude, it is not easy, or rather is wholly impossible to show that it is impassive and immutable in any one of the particulars, which are said to take place about it. But if it is an essence void of magnitude, and it is necessary that the incorruptible should be present with it, we should take care not to ascribe to it passions of this kind, lest we should also igno¬ rantly grant that it is corruptible. Whether, like¬ wise, the essence of it is number or reason, as we say it is, how can passion be ingenerated in number or reason ? But we ought rather to think that irra¬ tional reasons, and impassive passions are produced in it. And these being transferred to it from bo¬ dies, are each of them to be oppositely assumed, and according to analogy, so that the soul [after a manner] possessing these, does not [really] possess them, and being passive to them does not suffer. And it must be considered what the mode is of such like affections. % II. In the first place however, it is requisite to speak of virtue and vice, and to show what then takes place when vice is said to be present with the soul. For we say it is necessary to take away something, as if a certain evil was in the soul, and that virtue should be inserted in it, and it should be adorned and made beautiful, instead of being, 125 as it was before, base and deformed. If therefore we should say that virtue is harmony, but vice dis¬ sonance, shall we adduce an opinion conformable to that of the ancients ? For this assertion will in no small degree promote the object of our investi¬ gation. For if, indeed, virtue consists in the parts of the soul being naturally concordant with each other, but vice, in their not being concordant, nothing adventitious or extraneous will take place ; but each part will proceed such as it is, into an appropriate order, and being such will not enter into dissonance, like dancers who in dancing do not accord with each other ; either one of them singing, when the rest do not sing, or each singing by him¬ self. For it is not only necessary that they should sing together, but that each should sing well with an appropriate music, as far as pertains to his own part of the performance ; so that then also in the soul there is harmony, when each part performs that which is adapted to it. It is requisite, howr~ ever, prior to the harmony, that there should be another virtue of each of the parts, and another vice of each prior to their dissonance with respect to each other. What is it therefore, from which being present, each part is evil ? Is it from vice 126 being present? And again* is each part good through the presence of virtue ? Perhaps, therefore, some one may say that ignorance in the reasoning power is the vice of it, this ignorance consisting in the negation of knowledge, and not in the presence of a certain thing. But when false opinions are inherent, which especially produce vice, how is it possible in this case that something should not be ingenerated, and that this part of the soul should not thus be changed in quality ? Is not also the irascible part affected in one way when it is timid, and in another when it is brave ? And is not the epithymetic 1 part likewise, affected differently when it is intemperate, and when it is temperate ? Or may we not say, that when each part possessing virtue, energizes according to the essence by which it is characterized, we then say it is obedient to reason ? And the reasoning part, indeed, is obedient to intellect, but the other parts to reason. Or shall we say that to be obedient to reason is as it were to see, that which is obedient not being figured, 1 i. e. The part characterized by desire ; the whole soul receiving a triple division, into reason, anger, and desire, which last is a tendency to the possession and enjoyment of external good. 127 but seeing, and being in energy when it sees ; just as sight both when it is in capacity, and when in energy, is the same in essence ; but energy is not a change in quality, but at once applies itself to that to which it is essentially adapted, and perceives * and knows without passivity. The reasoning power also thus subsists with reference to intellect, and thus sees. And the power of intellection is this, not becoming internally, the impressions as it were of a seal, but it possesses, and again does not pos¬ sess that which it sees. It possesses the spectacle indeed, in consequence of knowing it ; but does * not possess it, because nothing is impressed in it from the object of vision, like the figure in the wax. It is, however, necessary to recollect, that memory is not a certain repository of impressions , but a power of the soul exciting itself in such a way as to possess that which it had not . What then, was it not one thing before it thus recollected, and another afterwards when it now recollects ? [It was] if you are willing to call it another, and not to say that it is changed in qua- %; unless some one should assert that a progres¬ sion from power to energy is a mutation in quality. Nothing however is here added, but that is effected 128 which there was a natural aptitude to effect. For in short, the energies of immaterial natures are not themselves in energizing changed in quality, or they would perish, but they much rather energize by remaining permanent. But to energize with passi¬ vity is the province of things which are connected in their energies with matter. If however that which is immaterial is passively affected, it will not be able any where to abide, as in the sight, vision energizing, it is the eye which suffers [and not the energy of seeing.] And opinions are as it were visions. But how7 is the irascible part timid ? And how also does it possess fortitude ? Shall we sav it is timid indeed, either because it does not look to reason, or because it looks to depraved rea¬ son ; or that it is so through a defect of instru¬ ments, such as the want or the weakness of corpo¬ real arms, in consequence of which it is either pre¬ vented from energizing, or is not moved so as to be as it were incited ? But it possesses fortitude, if the contrary takes place ; in neither of w hich cases, there is not any change of quality, or passion. Again, that part of the soul w hich desires, when it energizes alone, produces what is called intem¬ perance. For [sometimes] it performs all things 129 alone, other things not being present, whose pro¬ vince it is in their turn to have dominion, and to point out to this part [what it ought to do.] In the mean time the power whose province it is to see, performs something else, and not all things ; but is elsewhere at leisure, in consequence of seeing as much as possible other things. Perhaps, too, what is called the vice of this part, consists very much in a bad habit of the body ; but the virtue of it is a contrary habit; so that no addition is in either case made to the soul. . X . - φ III. But how is it that familiarities and aliena¬ tions, pains, anger, and pleasures, desires and fears, are not mutations and passions inherent and ex¬ citing? It is necessary, therefore, thus to distin¬ guish concerning these. For not to acknowledge that changes in quality are ingenerated in us, and also vehement sensations of these, is the province of one who denies things that are evident. It is requisite, therefore, admitting the subsistence of these, that we should investigate what that is which is changed. For by asserting that these things take place about the soul, we are in danger of falling into the same absurdity as if we should admit that Plot . I 130 the soul is red, or becomes pale, not considering that these passions are produced indeed on account of the soul, but subsist about another composition [than that of the soul.] And shame, indeed, in the Soul, arises from an opinion of baseness ; the body, (that we may not err in our conceptions) being as it were contained in the soul, and not being the same with that which is inanimate. The animated body, therefore, when it is moved with facility, un¬ dergoes a change in the blood, from the shame which subsists in the soul. And with respect to what is called fear, the principle of it, indeed, is in the soul; but the paleness produced by it, arises from the blood retreating in vrardly. In pleasure, also, the sensible diffusion of it subsists about the body ; but that which takes place about the soul is no longer passion. The like also must be asserted with respect to pain. For the principle of desire latently subsisting in the soul, that wdiich proceeds from thence is recognized by sense. For w hen we say that the soul is moved in desires, in reasonings, and in opinions, we do not say that it produces these in consequence of being agitated, but that motions are generated from it ; since also, when we assert that life is motion, we do not conceive 131 that it is a change of quality. But the natural energy of each part of the soul, is life not departing from itself. In short, it will be sufficient if we do not admit that energies, lives, and appetites, are mutations in quality ; that recollections are not types impressed in the soul ; and that imaginations are not configurations described as it were in wax. For every where, in all passions and motions, the soul must be acknowledged to subsist with invaria¬ ble sameness in its subject and essence ; and that virtue and vice are not produced in it after the same manner as black and white, or heat and cold about the body. But it must be admitted that The soul subsists with reference to both these, and in short, about all contraries, according to the above mentioned mode. IV. Let us, however, direct our attention to what is called the passive part of the soul ; though we have already after a manner spoken concerning this, when we discussed all the passions which are produced about the irascible and epithymetic part, and showed how each of them subsists. Never¬ theless, it is requisite to discuss it more amply ; in the first place assuming what that which is passive in the soul is said to be. It is said, therefore, to be that about which the passions appear to subsist. But these are things to which pleasure and pain are consequent. Of the passions, however, some ori¬ ginate from opinions, as when some one being of opinion that he shall die, is terrified, or fancying that he shall obtain some good is delighted ; the opinion indeed, being in one thing, but the exciting passion in another. But other passions are such as, existing involuntarily, produce opinion in that which is naturally adapted to opine. And we have already observed that opinion permits the nature which opines to remain immoveable. Un¬ expected fear, however, when it accedes, will be found to originate from opinion, affording as it were a certain perception to the part of the soul which is said to be afraid. For what does this being afraid effect ? Perturbation it is said, and astonish¬ ment from the expectation of evil. It is evident, however, that the phantasy is in the soul, both the first 1 which we call opinion, and the second which 1 The phantasy or imagination is the highest of the gnostic irrational powers of the soul. But this in its summit is united to opinion , or that gnostic rational power which knows that a thing is, but docs not know xvhy it is ; and in its other extre- 133 is derived from the first, and is no longer opinion {truly so called,] but is conversant with that which is beneath, being as it were obscure opinion, and an unadvised and rash imagination, such as the energy which is said to be inherent in nature, according to which it produces every thing without phantasy. But a sensible perturbation from these is produced about the body ; viz. a trembling and concussion, paleness, and an inability of speaking. For these effects are not in the psychical part ; since if they were, we should not say that they are corporeal. For if they pertained to the soul, that power of it whose province it is to transmit these, w^ould no longer perform its office, in consequence of being detained by passions, and departing from itself. This passive part, therefore, of the soul, is not in¬ deed body, but a certain form. Nevertheless, it is in matter, as are also the epithymetic, the nutritive, augmentative, and generative powers, the three latter of which are the root and principle of the epithymetic and passive form. It is requisite, how- mity it is conjoined with sense. So far, therefore, as it is united to opinion, it may be said to be the same with it. See my Introduction to, and translation of Aristotle’s treatise On the Soul. 134 ever, that no perturbation, or in short passion v' ·'· t .< '«· ’ V *■ should be present with any form ; but it is neces- *·* * ·* ‘ . ■ sary that form should remain permanent, and that the matter of it should be conversant with passion, when passion is produced through the presence of the exciting power of form. For the vegetable power does not itself vegetate when it causes other things to vegetate; nor is increased when it in¬ creases other things ; nor in short when it moves, is moved according to the motion with which it moves, but is either not moved at all, or has ano¬ ther mode of motion or energy. Hence it is neces¬ sary that the nature itself of form should be energy ; and should produce by being present, just as if harmony should of itself move the chords [of a musical instrument] The passive part of the soul, therefore, will be indeed the cause of passion, whether the motion is produced by it from the sen¬ sitive phantasy, or also without the phantasy. This, likewise, must be considered, whether opinion originating supernally, that which is passive in the soul subsists alone in the form of the harmony ; but the motive causes are analogous to the musi¬ cian ; and the things which are struck through pas¬ sion have the relation of chords. For in a musical instrument also, harmony does not suffer, but the chord. And the chord is not moved, though the musician wishes that it should be, unless harmony commands it to be moved. V. Why, then, is it requisite to endeavour to render the soul impassive by means of philosophy, if from the first it is without passivity ? Shall we say, it is because a phantasm as it were proceeding into it from what is called the passive part, the con¬ sequent passion produces a perturbation [in this part] and the image of expected evil is conjoined with the perturbation ? Reason, therefore, thinks it fit that a passion of this kind should be extir¬ pated, and that it should not be suffered to be in¬ generated, because where it is, the soul is not yet in a good condition. But where it is not ingenerated, there the soul is impassive, the vision which is the cause of the passion about the soul, having no longer an inherent subsistence. Just as if some one wishing to expel the visions of sleep, should recal the dreaming soul to wakefulness ; or as if he should say that external spectacles produce the passions, and should, assert that these passions be- 136 long to the soul. But what will the purification of the soul be, if it is in no respect defiled ? Or in • \ what will the separation of it from the body con¬ sist ? May we not say that the purification of it will be, to leave it by itself alone, and not suffer it to associate with other things [that are hostile to its nature,] nor permit it to look to any thing external ; nor again, to have foreign opinions, whatever the mode is, as we have said, of opinions or passions ; nor to behold images, nor fabricate passions from them? If, however, it is converted to supernal from inferior objects, is not this a purification and separation of the soul, which in this case is no longer in body, so as to be something belonging to it, but resembles alight not merged in turbid mire, though at the same time that which is merged in it is im¬ passive ? But the purification, indeed, of the pas¬ sive part of the soul, is an excitation from the vision of absurd images. And the separation of it will consist in not verging downward, and in the imagi¬ nation not being conversant with inferior natures. It will also consist in taking away those things by the ablation of which this part likewise will be separated, when it is not permitted to lie in a spirit 137 turbid from gluttony, lest it should be suffocated in flesh, but when that in which it dwells is attenuated, so that it may be quietly carried in it. VI. That the intelligible essence, indeed, the whole of which is arranged according to form, is necessarily impassive, has been already shown. Since, however, matter also is something incorpo¬ real, though after another manner [than the intelli¬ gible,] concerning this likewise it must be consi¬ dered after what manner it subsists ; whether it is passive, as it is said to be, and in all things mutable, or whether it is necessary to opine that this also is impassive, and if it is so, the mode of its impassi¬ vity must be unfolded. In the first place, there¬ fore, this must be assumed by those who speak concerning the nature of it, and who endeavour to show what it is, that the nature, essence, and exist¬ ence of being, is not such as the multitude conceive it to be. For being which may be so denominated in reality, is truly being ; but this is that which is entirely being ; and this again is that which in no respect is deficient in existence. But since it is perfectly being, it is not in want of any thing in order that it may be preserved and be, but to other 138 things which appear to be, it is the cause of their apparent existence. If, therefore, these things are rightly asserted, it is necessary that it should sub¬ sist in life, and in a perfect life ; for if it were defi¬ cient in this, it wrould not be essence in a more eminent degree. This, however, is intellect and perfect wisdom. Hence it is bounded and definite, and nothing is there in capacity which does not also possess a mighty power ; since otherwise it would be deficient. Hence, too, it is eternal, in¬ variably the same, and unreceptive of any thing. For if it should receive any thing, it would receive something besides itself ; and this would be non- being. It is necessary, however, that it should be perfectly being. Hence it is requisite it should accede to existence, possessing all things in itself, and being at once all things, and one all, if by these peculiarities we define being. But it is necessary that we should thus define it, or intellect and life would not proceed from being, but these would be adventitious to it, though they will not emanate from non-being, and being will be deprived of life and intellect. That which is truly non-being, therefore, will have these in such a way as it is requisite for them to subsist in less excellent na- 139 tures, and in things posterior to being. For that which is prior to being, imparts these indeed to it, but is not itself indigent of these. Hence, if being is a thing of this kind, it is necessary that it should neither be a certain body, nor that which is the subject of bodies, but that existence to these should consist in non-being. It may, however, be said, how is it possible the nature of bodies and matter should not have a [real] being, in which these mountains and rocks exist, the whole solid earth, and all resisting substances ? Indeed, things which are struck, confess that their essence subsists by compulsion. If, therefore, some one should say, how is it possible that things which neither press, nor are impelled, nor resist, and which in short are not visible, viz. soul and inteb lect should be beings, and truly beings, — we reply, that among bodies, earth is most stable, but that which is more moveable, is also less ponderous, and of this that which is on high is most moveable. And hence, fire flies [as it were] from the nature of body. I am of opinion, however, that things which are more sufficient to themselves, disturb others in a less degree, and occasion them less pain. But things which are more ponderous and terrene, 140 because thev are in a defective and fallen condition, and are unable to elevate themselves, strike against others, falling on them through imbecility, and oppressing them by their descending and sluggish weight. For dead bodies cause greater molesta¬ tion 1 when they fall, and strike and injure more vehemently. But animated bodies, as they parti¬ cipate of [real] being, are the more innoxious the more they participate of it. Hence motion, which is a certain life as it were in bodies, and an imita¬ tion of life, is in a greater degree present with those things that have less of body, as if a defect of being rendered that with which it is present, more corpo¬ real. From what are called passions, likewise, it may be seen, that what is in a greater body is more passive, earth than other things, and other things according to the same ratio. For other things when divided, return again into one, when nothing prevents them. But when a terrene body is di¬ vided, the parts always continue separate from each other, as being naturally averse to reunion, and by a small impulse are disposed to remain as they are impelled, and be corrupted. Hence, that which * For auheffTtpa it is necessary to read 141 becomes body in a most eminent degree, as having especially arrived at nonentity, is incapable of re¬ calling itself into one. Ponderous, therefore, and vehement concussions, by which some things act upon others, are attended with ruin. But one debile thing falling on another, possesses with re¬ spect to it the same efficacy and power, as 1 non¬ entity falling on nonentity. And this we think a sufficient refutation of their opinion who place be¬ ings among bodies, and who are induced to do so by the testimony of impulsions and concussions ; and from the phantasms produced through sense derive their belief of the truth. Such as these are affected in a manner similar to those who are dreaming, and who imagine that what they perceive is true, though it is nothing more than a dream. For sense is alone the employment of the dormant soul ; since as much of the soul as is merged in body, so much of it sleeps. But true vigilance is a true elevation from, and not in conjunction with body. For indeed a resurrection with body, is a transmigration from sleep to sleep, [and from dream to dream] like a man passing [in the dark] from 4 * ωά is omitted in the original. 142 bed to bed. But that elevation is entirely true, which wholly rises [from the shadowy essence] of bodies. For these possessing a nature contrary to soul, have also that which is contrary to essence. And this also is testified by their generation, their flowing and corruption ; all which are foreign to the nature of real being. VII. Let us, however, again return in the first place, to the subject matter, and afterwards to the things which are said to be in matter, from which it will be known that matter itself has no [real] existence, and that it is impassive. It is there¬ fore incorporeal, since body is posterior to it, and is a composite, and matter in conjunction with another thing [i.e. with form,] produces body. For thus it is allotted the same appellation according to the incorporeal, because both being and matter are different from bodies. Since, however, matter is neither soul nor intellect, nor life, nor form, nor reason, nor bound ; for it is infinite ; nor power ; for what can it effect ; but falls off from all these, neither can it rightly receive the appellation of be¬ ing. But it may deservedly be called non-being. Yet it is not non-being in the same manner as mo- tion is, or permanency ; but it is truly non-being* the image and phantasm of bulk, and the desire of subsistence. And it stands, indeed, but not in that which is permanent, is of itself invisible, and flies from him who wishes to behold it. When, like¬ wise, some one does not see it, then it is present ; but is not perceived by him who strives intently to behold it. Add too, that contraries are always apparent in it ; the small and the great, the less and the more, the deficient and the exceeding, be¬ ing an image neither able to remain, nor yet to fly aw ay. For it has not even power to effect this, as receiving no strength from intellect, but subsisting in the defect of all being. Hence it deceives us in w hatever it announces of itself ; so that if it should appear to be great, it is small ; if more, it is less ; and the being which we meet with in the imagina¬ tion of it, is non-being, and as it were a flying mockery. Hence, also, the things which appear to be ingenerated in it, are mockeries, and images in an image, just as in a mirror, where a thing which is situated in one place appears to be in another. It likewise seems to be full and to be all things, and yet has nothing. But the things which enter into and depart from matter, are imitations and / 144 images of [real] beings, flowing about a formless resemblance ; and on account of its formless nature are seen within it. They also appear, indeed, to effect something in it, but effect nothing ; for they are vain and debile, and have no resisting power. And since matter, likewise, is void of resistance, they pervade without dividing it, like images in water, or as if some one should send as it were forms into what is called a vacuum. For again, if the things which are beheld in matter were such as those from which they proceeded into it, perhaps a certain pow er of these might be ascribed to material forms, and matter might be supposed to suffer by them. But now^, since the things which are repre¬ sented are of one kind, and those that are beheld in matter of another, from these also we may learn that the passion of matter is false ; that which is seen in it being false, and in no respect possessing any similitude to its maker. Hence, being imbecile and false, and falling into a false receptacle, as in a dream, or in water, or a mirror, it necessarily permits matter to be impassive, though in the things which have been just mentioned,1 there is a * viz. In water, a mirror, and a' dream. 145 similitude between the representations in them, and the originals of which they are the resemblances. VIII. In short, that which suffers ought to be a thing of this kind, so that it may be as it were in the contrary powers and qualities of the things which accede and produce passion. For to the in¬ herent heat the change in quality is from that which refrigerates ; and to the inherent humidity the change is from that which causes dryness. And we say that the subject is changed in quality, when from being cold it becomes hot, or moist from be¬ ing dry. But what is called the corruption of fire, testifies the truth of this, the mutation being made into another element. For wre say that the fire and not the matter is corrupted ; so that passions are about that, about which corruption also subsists. For the reception of passion is the path to corrup¬ tion ; and to be corrupted pertains to that to which likewise it belongs to suffer. It is not however possible, that matter should be corrupted. For into what, and how can it be corrupted ? But is not matter [it may be said] co-passive, since quali¬ ties in their mixture with each other suffer, and matter receives in itself myriads of heats and colds, Plot. K 146 and in short infinite qualities, and is distinguished by these, and has them as it were connaseent and mingled with each other ? For each of these is not separate from the rest, and matter is left in the middle of them. Unless perhaps some one should place it external to them. But every thing which is in a subject, is in such a manner present with the subject, as to impart something to it from itself. IX. It must therefore be assumed, that one thing is present with another, and that one thing is in another, not according to one mode only. But sometimes together with being present, it causes that with which it is present to be better or worse, accompanied with permutation ; as is seen to be the case in the bodies of animals ; and at another time, it makes it to be as it were better or worse, without that being passive with which it is present, as is said to be the case in the soul. Sometimes, also, this takes place in such a way as when a figure is imprinted in wax, where there is neither any pas¬ sion, so as to cause the wax to be something else when the figure is present with it, nor any defect in the wax, when the figure is destroyed. Light, also, does not produce a change in quality of the figure about that which is illuminated. Nor does a stone, when it becomes cold, possess any thing besides frigidity, from that through which it is cold, while it remains a stone. And what does a line [viz. the extension of length] suffer from colour ? Nor, in my opinion, does a superficies suffer any thing from it, but perhaps the subject body. Though what can this suffer from colour ? For it is Hot pro¬ per to say that a thing suffers when something is [merely] present with it ; nor when it is invested with form. If, however, some one should say that mirrors, and in short diaphanous substances, suffer nothing from the images that are seen within them, he will not adduce an unappropriate paradigm. For the forms which are in matter are images, and matter is still more impassive than mirrors. Hence heat and cold are ingenerated in it, but do not heat [or refrigerate] it. For to be heated and refrige¬ rated, pertains to quality leading the subject from one quality to another. It is requisite, however, to consider, whether fri¬ gidity is not the absence and privation [of heat] : but qualities entering together into matter, many of them act on each other, or rather are contrarily affected. For what can fragrance effect in sweet- 148 ness ; or colour in figure ? Or what can that which belongs to one genus effect in another ? Whence especially credibility may be obtained, that a thing may be in that which is different from it, without injuring by its presence that with which it is pre¬ sent. As, therefore, that which is injured is not injured by any thing of a casual nature, so neither does that which is changed and which suffers, suffer by any thing indiscriminately. But contraries only suffer from contraries, other things being unchanged by others ; so that those things in which there is no contrariety, do not suffer by any thing of a con- trary nature. Hence, it is necessary if any thing suffers, that it should not be matter, but something which is a composite of matter and form, or in short, that it should be at one and the same time many things. But that which is alone, and sepa¬ rate from other things, and which is entirely simple, will be impassive to all things, and will be inclosed in the middle of all things, acting on each other ; just as when in the same house certain persons strike each other, neither does the house suffer any thing from the blows, nor the air which is in it. But the forms which are in matter, perform such things as they are naturally adapted to perform. 149 Matter itself, however, is much more impassive than such qualities in it, which by not being con¬ traries are impassive with reference to each other. X. In the next place, if matter suffers, it is necessary that it should possess something from the passion, and that this should either be the passion itself, or that it should be disposed differently from what it was before the passion was produced in it. Hence, another quality acceding after the former, the recipient will no longer be matter, but matter with a certain quality. If, however, quality 1 itself should fail, leaving something of itself of an effec¬ tive nature, the subject will in a still greater degree become something else ; and proceeding after this manner, the subject will be something besides [mere] matter, and will be manifold and multiform. Hence, it will no longer be the universal recipient, since it will be an impediment to the multitude of things which accede to it, and matter will no longer remain, and therefore will not be incorruptible. So that if it is necessary that matter should be as it r s Quality is that which imparts what is apparent in matter, and which is the object of sense. 150 was from the first, it ought thus to be always the same, since to assert that it has been changed is not to preserve it the same. Farther still, if in short every thing which is changed in quality ought, remaining in the same form, to be changed accord¬ ing to accidents, and not essentially ; — if, therefore, it is requisite that what is changed in quality should remain, and that part of it which suffers is not that which remains, one of two things is necessary, either that matter when changed in quality should depart from itself, or that not departing from itself it should not be changed in quality. If, however, some one should say, that it is changed in quality, yet not so far as it is matter ; in the first place, in¬ deed, he cannot assign what that is according to which it is so changed ; and in the next place, he must confess that thus also matter itself is not changed in quality. For as in other things which are forms, it is not possible that they can be essen¬ tially changed in quality, since their essence con¬ sists in this, [i. e. in being forms,] thus also, since the being of matter is to exist as matter, it cannot be changed in quality so far as it is matter, but it must necessarily remain what it is. And as there form itself is unchanged in quality, so likewise here it is necessary that matter itself should he immutable. XI. Whence, also, I think that the divine Plato, [in the Timseus] having formed the same conception rightly says, that the tilings which enter into and depart from matter, are imitations of be¬ ings ; the words entering into and departing , not being used by him in vain. For he wished to direct our attention to the mode in which matter partici¬ pates of forms. It also appears that the doubt how this participation is effected, is not what many prior to us conceived it to be, viz. how forms pro¬ ceed into matter, but rather how they subsist in it. For it seems to be truly wonderful, how these forms being present with matter, it nevertheless remains impassive ; especially since the forms which enter into it suffer from each other. According to Plato, however, the entering forms expel those which en¬ tered prior to them, and passion is in the composite from matter and form ; yet not in every composite, but in that which is in want of the acceding or depart¬ ing form ; and which indeed in its composition is defective by the absence of a certain form, but is perfect by the presence of it. But matter does not possess any thing more whatever as an accession to its composition, by the entrance of any thing into it. For it does not then become that which it is through the form that enters, nor is it less by the departure of this form. For it remains that which it was at first. To the natures, indeed, which re¬ quire ornament and order, it is useful to be adorn¬ ed ; and to these ornament may accede without transmutation, as is the case with things which we surround with decoration. If, however, any thing is so adorned as to have the ornament connascent, it will be requisite that what was before void of beauty, should be changed in quality, become dif¬ ferent from what it was, and from being deformed be beautiful. If, therefore, matter being deformed is rendered beautiful, it is no longer that base thing which it was before ; so that in being thus adorned, it loses its subsistence as matter, and especially if its deformity is not accidental. But if it is so de¬ formed as to be deformity itself, it will not partici¬ pate of ornament. And if it is so evil, as to be evil itself, it will not participate of good. Hence it does not participate in such a way as some fancy it does, viz. by being passive, but after another manner, which is that of appearing to participate, Perhaps, 153 too, according to this mode the doubt may be solved, how, since matter is evil, it can aspire after good, because it does not through the participation cease to be what it was. For if what is called the participation of matter subsists after this manner so that it remains as we say the same, unchanged in quality, and is always that which it is, it will no longer be wonderful, how being evil it participates of good. For it does not depart from itself. But because it is indeed necessary it should participate, it participates after a certain manner as long as it exists. In consequence, however, of remaining that which it is, and the mode of participation preserv¬ ing it [in its own proper nature] it is not injured in its essence by that which thus imparts something to it. And it appears not to be less evil on this account, viz. because it always remains that which it is. For if it truly participated of, and was truly changed in quality by the good , it would not be naturally evil. So that if some one should say that matter is evil, he will assert what is true, if he says it is impassive to the good , which is the same thing as to say, that it is entirely impassive. XII, But Plato having formed this conception 154 of matter, and not admitting that participation in it, is as if form was generated in a subject, and im¬ parted to it morphe, so as to become one compo¬ site, the things which it participates being co-trans- muted, and as it were co-mingled, and co-passive, —Plato, therefore, not being willing to adopt such a mode of participation as this, but desiring to show how matter remaining impassive possesses forms, investigated a paradigm of impassive participation, without which it is not easy to show what those things especially are, which when present preserve the subject one and the same. He likewise excites many doubts, while hastening to obtain the object of his enquiry, and besides this, washing to repre¬ sent to us the vacuity of subsistence in sensibles, # and that the region of the resemblance of reality is very ample. Supposing, therefore, that matter by figures produces passions in animated bodies, while at the same time it has itself none of these passions, he indicates by this the stability of matter ; ena¬ bling us to collect by a syllogistic process that matter neither suffers, nor is changed in quality by these figures. For in these bodies indeed [which are the objects of sense,] and which receive one figure after another, perhaps some one may say a 155 change in quality is effected, asserting that the mu¬ tation of figure is an homonymous alliation.1 Since matter, however, has neither any figure, nor any magnitude, how can it be said that the presence of figure, in whatever way this may take place, is alliation, though it should homonymously be said to be so ? If, therefore, some one adopting this conception of Plato as legitimate, should assert that the subject nature [i. e, matter] does not possess any thing in such a way as it is thought to possess it, he will not speak absurdly. In what manner, however, does matter possess forms, if you are not willing to admit that it possesses them as figures? But the hypothesis of Plato indicates as much as possible the impassivity of matter, and the apparent presence of images in it, which are not [in reality] present. Perhaps, however, we ought first to speak fur¬ ther about the impassivity of matter. Plato, therefore, teaches us that we ought to be led by usual appellations to the consideration of its passi¬ vity, as when he says it becomes dry, or ignited, or moist, and receives the forms of air and water. * i. c, Λ change in quality. 156 For the assertion that it receives these forms, miti¬ gates the force of the other assertion, that matter is ignited and becomes moist. He likewise manifests when he says that matter receives forms, that it is not itself invested with morphe, but that the mor- phse are in the same state as when they entered into matter ; and that the term ignited is not pro- perly applied to matter, but rather fire in genera¬ tion, or becoming to be. For it is not the same thing for fire to be in generation, and for a thing to be ignited. For to be ignited is indeed effected in another thing, in which there is also passivity. But how can that which is a part of fire, be itself ignited ? For this would be just the same as if some one should say, that the statue proceeded through the brass, or fire through matter, and besides this ignited it. Farther still, if that which accedes is reason or a productive principle, how will it ignite P Shall we say on account of figure ? But that which ignited already consists both of matter and figure. How, therefore, can it consist of both, unless it becomes one from both ? Or shall we say that though it becomes one, yet not from two things having passions in each other, but acting upon other things ? Does this, therefore, arise from the 157 agency of both, or from one of them causing the other not to Ay away ? When, however, a certain body is divided, how is it possible that matter also should not be divided ? And matter when it is di¬ vided being passive, how is it possible it should not suffer by this very passion? Or what hinders us from asserting for the same reason that matter is corrupted ? Since when body is corrupted, it must be shown why matter likewise is not corrupted. In answer to this, however, it may be said, that what suffers and is divided is a magnitude of a definite quantity, but in that which is not magnitude, the passions of magnitude are not ingenerated. And, in short, the passions of body are not inherent in that which is not body ; so that those who make matter to be passive, must also admit it to be body. XIII. It is likewise requisite that they should attend to the manner in which they say matter flies from form. For how can it fly from stones and rocks by which it is comprehended ? For they will not say that it sometimes flies from form, and some¬ times does not. For if it flies by its own will, why does it not always fly from it ? But if it abides frojn •f 158 necessity, there is not any time in which it is not invested with a certain form. The cause, however, must be investigated why each matter has not al¬ ways the same form, and this must be in a still greater degree investigated in the forms which enter into matter. How, therefore, is matter said to fly from form ? Is it by its own nature, and al¬ ways ? But what else will this be, than that never departing from itself, it so possesses form as if it never possessed it, or if this is not admitted, they will not be able to assign any probable reason in defence of what they assert. Plato also calls matter the receptacle and nurse of all generation. And the receptacle and nurse indeed, are different from generation ; but that wdiich is changed in quality is in generation. Since, likewise, the receptacle and nurse are prior to generation, they will also be prior to alliation. Add too, that they will preserve mat¬ ter in an impassive state ; as also will the assertion that each thing has an apparent subsistence in that in which it is ingenerated, and that it departs from thence as from a receptacle and seat. The impas¬ sivity of matter, likewise, is preserved by the asser¬ tion that it is the place of forms ; for this does not ascribe any passiort to it, but investigates another 159 mode of subsistence. What, therefore, is this mode ? Since, indeed, a nature of this kind ought not to be any one of, but to fly from every essence of beings, and to be entirely different from them ; for they are reasons or productive principles, and have a real existence ; — this being the case, it is necessary that matter in consequence of this differ¬ ence should preserve the safety which it is allotted, and should not only be unreceptive of beings, but also if there is a certain imitation of them, that it should even be destitute of familiarity with this re¬ semblance. For thus it will be entirely different from beings, since otherwise, being conversant with a certain form, and becoming something else in conjunction with it, it would cease to be different from beings, and to be the receptacle of all things ; for it would not be the recipient of any thing. It is necessary, however, that matter should remain the same, while forms enter into it, and that it should be impassive during their egress from it, in order that they may always enter into and depart from it. But that which enters, enters as an image, and not being itself real, enters into that which is void of truth and reality. Does it, therefore, truly enter ? But how is it possible it should be truly re- 160 ceived by that to which it is not in any respect lawful to participate of truth, in consequence of its being false ? Hence, it falsely proceeds into that which is false, and becomes similar to an object in a mirror, as long as the object is beheld within it. For with respect to matter, if you take away [real] beings, none of those things which are now seen in the sensible region, would for the smallest space of time be apparent. The mirror, therefore, of which we have just spoken, is perceived by us ; for it is itself a certain form. Matter, however, not being itself any form, is not itself seen ; for other¬ wise, it would be requisite that it should be seen by itself prior to the forms that it apparently con¬ tains. But it suffers something of the same kind as the air when illuminated, which is then also in¬ visible, because it could not be seen without being illuminated. Hence the objects which are seen in mirrors, are believed not to have an existence, or to have it in a less degree, because that which con¬ tains them is visible, and itself remains while the objects depart. But matter is not itself perceived, neither when it has, nor when it is without forms. If, however, it was possible for the objects from which mirrors are filled to remain without being Ιδί seen, yet no one would doubt the reality of the objects which are seen in them. Hence, if there is something in mirrors, sensibles also will be in mat¬ ter. But if there is nothing [in reality] in mirrors, but objects have only an apparent subsistence in them, in matter also it must be said, forms have a resemblance of subsistence. The cause of this appearance, likewise, must be ascribed to the hypo¬ stasis of beings, of which beings themselves always truly participate, but non-beings not truly ; since it is not proper that they should subsist in such a manner as they would, if they had an existence, and being had not. © XIV. What then* matter not existing, would nothing have a subsistence ? Nothing except be- ings ; 1 just as neither would an image have any existence, unless there was a mirror, or something of this kind. For that which is naturally adapted to subsist in another thing, cannot exist when that thing is not. For this is the nature of an image to be in something different from itself. For if any 1 Th£ words ovtev π\ην τα οντα are omitted in the original ; hut from the version of Ficinus evidently ought to be inserted. Plot. L 162 thing departs from the producing causes of its exist¬ ence, it may indeed subsist without being in another thing. But since [true] beings remain, if there is a representation of them in something else, it is necessary there should be another thing imparting a seat to that which does not truly accede.1 And this by its presence and audacity, and as it may be said, mendicity and poverty, is as it were compelled to receive. It is however deceived, by not receiv¬ ing [truly,] in order that its poverty may also remain, and that it may always be a mendicant. For according to the fable, after it once had a sub¬ sistence, it began to beg ; the fable indicating by this the nature of it, which consists in being desti¬ tute of good. It does not, however, beg to receive those things which the giver has to bestowq but is satisfied with whatever it may receive ; so that this also indicates that what is apparent in it is different [from reality.] Its name, likewise, [which is Penia or Poverty] signifies that it is not filled. And the assertion that it w^as connected with Plenty,4 does 1 Instead of τταρε'χει τψ ουκ eXOovrt in this place, it is neces¬ sary to read, παρεγων τ<ρ όντως ovic εΧθοντι. z For πορρω here, it is necessary to read πορρ; See the speech of Diotima in the Banquet of Plato. ■ ' v". 163 not signify that this connection was with [real] be¬ ing, nor with satiety, but with a certain artificial thing, i. e. with the wisdom of a phantasm. For since it was not possible for that to be entirely with·* out the participation of being, which is in any re¬ spect external to it ; for it is the nature of being to produce beings ; but that which is entirely non- being is unmingled will being this being the case, an admirable thing is effected, which participates, and yet in a certain respect does not participate of being, and which also in a certain respect possesses something from proximity to being ; though by its own nature it is incapable of being as it were con» glutinated with it. Hence it becomes defluous, as gliding away from a foreign nature which it has re¬ ceived, like echo from smooth and equable places, because it does not abide there, though it appears to be there, and to proceed from thence. If, how¬ ever, matter so participated and received, as some one may think it does, that which proceeds into would be absorbed by it. But now it appears, that it is not absorbed, since matter remains the same, having received nothing, but impeding progression like some repercussive seat. It is also the recep¬ tacle of forms acceding to, and mingled in it ; just 16*4 as those who are desirous of enkindling a light from the sun, place some smooth substance opposite to it, which they also fill with water, in order that the flame being impeded by that which is inward, and of a contrary nature, may not pass through, but may stop externally. Matter, therefore, thus be¬ comes the cause of generation, and the. forms which consist in it, are constituted after this manner. XV. In things, therefore, which collect fire from the sun about themselves, as they receive flame from a sensible fire, they become themselves objects of sense. Hence also they are apparent, because the objects are external, successive and proximate, touch each other, and have two extremities. But the productive principle in matter, has the external after a different manner. For difference of nature is sufficient, not being indigent of a twofold boun¬ dary ; but being much more alienated than every boundary by a diversity T of essence which is desti¬ tute of all alliance, it possesses a power repugnant to mixture. And this is the cause of its remaining in itself, because neither that which enters into it enjoys it, nor does it enjoy that which enters ; just 1 For ερωτητι here, it is necessary to read ετεροτητι. 165 as opinions and imaginations in the soul are not mingled with each other, but each again departs, as being alone that which it is, neither attracting, nor leaving any thing, because it was not mingled, and having the external, not because it is super¬ jacent, and is visibly different from that in which it is, but because reason distinguishes the one from the other. Here, therefore, imagination is as it were an image, (the soul not being an image natu¬ rally,) though it appears to be the leader of many things, and to lead them where it pleases. The soul, nevertheless, uses the imagination as matter, or as that which is analogous to matter. The ima¬ gination, however, does not conceal the soul, since the soul by its energies frequently expels the phan¬ tasy ; nor would it ever be able to conceal it, though it should be wholly diffused through it, though this by the imagination appears to be some¬ times effected. For the soul contains in herself energies and reasons contrary to those of the phan¬ tasy by which the acceding [phantasms] are re¬ pelled. Matter, however, is much more imbecile than the soul, and contains nothing of beings whe¬ ther true or false, w;hich is properly its own. Neither has it any thing through which it may be- 166 come apparent, being a solitude of all things. It is, however, the cause to other things of their appa¬ rent subsistence ; but is not able to say even this of itself, I am here, [though I am by no means visible.] And if at any time a certain profound reason discovers where it is concealed among be¬ ings, it exclaims that it is something deserted by all beings, and by things which appear to be posterior to beings, that it it is likewise attracted to all things, and as it seems follows, and again does not follow them. XVI. Moreover, a certain reason acceding and extending matter as far as it proceeds into it, causes it to be great, investing it from itself with greatness, w hich is not in matter. But matter does not through this become quantity ; for if it did, that which is great in it would be magnitude. If, therefore, some one takes away this form, the sub¬ ject no longer is, nor w ill appear to be great. But if that which is generated was great, man and horse, and together with horse the magnitude of horse which accedes, would depart on the departure of horse. If, however, it should be said, that horse is generated in a certain great bulk and of a certain 167 extent, and that the magnitude remains, we reply that it is not the magnitude of the horse, but the magnitude of the bulk which there remains. Nevertheless, if this bulk is fire or earth, on the departure of fire or earth, the magnitude of fire or of earth will also depart. Matter, therefore, will neither enjoy figure, nor magnitude ; for otherwise it would not be something else from fire, but re¬ maining fire, it would not become fire. Hence, matter having now become as we see, as great in extent as the universe, if the heavens should cease $o exist, and all they contain, together with these, all magnitude would likewise depart from matter, and at the same time all other qualities, and matter would be left that which it was before, preserving no one of the things which had a prior subsistence about it. In the natures, however, which suffer by the presence of certain things, something is still left in the recipients, when those things depart ; but this is no longer the case with natures that do not suffer. Thus the air which is surrounded with light, retains nothing of the light when it departs. But if some one should wonder how it is possible, that a thing should become great which does not possess magnitude ; it may also be doubted how 168 that can become hot which has not heat. For it is not the same thing in matter, to he matter and to be magnitude ; since magnitude is immaterial, in the same manner as figure is immaterial. And if we preserve matter, we must assert that it is all things by participation. But magnitude is one of all things. In bodies, therefore, which are compo¬ sites, there is magnitude together with other things, yet it is not indefinite ; since in the definition of body magnitude also is included. But in matter, even indefinite magnitude is not included ; for it is not body. XVII. Neither, again, will matter be magni¬ tude itself. For magnitude is form, but not the recipient of form ; and magnitude subsists by itself. If matter, likewise, cannot adapt to itself the imita¬ tions of beings,1 on this account also it is not mag¬ nitude. Since, however, that which is placed in intellect or in soul, wishes to be great, it imparts to those things which by proceeding as it were, en¬ deavour to imitate it, by the desire of, or motion towards it, the ability of impressing the same pas- * For αντων here, it is necessary to read οντων» 169 sion in another thing. That which is great, there¬ fore, running in the progression of the phantasy so as to cause the smallness of matter to run in con¬ junction with it, occasions matter also to appear great, though it is not filled by the co-extension. For this greatness of matter is falsely great, since by not having the power to be great, and being ex¬ tended towards magnitude, it becomes amplified by the extension. For since all beings produce in other things, or in another thing the representation of themselves as in mirrors, each of the agents is in a similar manner 1 great ; and the universe also is great in this way. The magnitude, therefore, of each productive principle, as of that of a horse or any thing else concurs with the particular thing to which the productive principle pertains. And every appearance, indeed, of things as in a mirror is great in consequence of being illuminated by greatness itself. Each portion of them, likewise, becomes something great, and all things at once present themselves to the view from every form of which magnitude is one. From each form, also, there is, as it were, an extension to every thing and to all * Instead of ws avro here, it is accessary to read ωσαυτωζ. 1.70 things, and this is to be compelled in form. Power, too, produces as much in bulk as bulk is capable of receiving ; so that what is [in reality] nothing, appears to be all things. Hence colour which proceeds from what is not colour, and the quality in sensibles which is derived from what is not quality, have an equivocal appellation from their producing causes. Magnitude, also, proceeds from that which is not magnitude, or from that which is homonymously magnitude ; these 1 being surveyed as having a subsistence between matter itself, and form itself. And they become apparent, indeed, because they are derived from form themselves. They have, however, a false subsistence, because that in w?hich they are apparent is not [truly.] But each of them becomes extended into magnitude, being attracted by the power of the things which are seen in matter, and which make for themselves a place. There is, however, an attraction to all things, yet not by violence, because the universe is matter. But each thing attracts according to the power which it possesses ; and derives from the representation of magnitude itself, the ability of 1 viz. Colour, quality, and magnitude. *> 171 making matter so great as it appears to be. Hence the magnitude which is here is the phantasm of it which is apparent. Matter, however, being com» pelled to concur with this attraction, at once im¬ parts itself wholly and every where ; for it is the matter of the universe, and not some particular matter. But that which is not of itself some par» ticular thing, may on account of something else be¬ come contrary to what it was, and having become contrary, no longer is [what it was] ; since if it were, it w ould cease to be changed. XVIII. If some one, therefore, possessing an intellectual conception of magnitude, should have this conception attended with a power not only of subsisting in itself, but also of proceeding as it were externally, and the powder should receive a nature not existing in the intellectual perceiver, nor having a certain form, nor a certain vestige of magnitude or of any other form, what would he produce through this power ? Not a horse, or an ox. For other powers would produce these. Or shall we say, that since this power proceeds from a great father, nothing else [besides matter] is able to re¬ ceive this magnitude, and that its possession of it 172 will only be imaginary, and not real. Hence, to that which does not so obtain magnitude, as to be in its own nature the great itself, it remains for it to be apparently only as much as possible great. But this is not to be deficient, and not to proceed to many things in many places ; but to possess in itself kindred parts, and not to leave any thing des¬ titute of itself. For it is not possible that in a small bulk, there should still be an equal image of magnitude, since it is an image of greatness ; but so far as it aspires through its hope, it accedes as far as it is possible for it to accede, and running in conjunction with that which is not able to leave it, it causes that to be great w hich is not great, yet not so as to appear to he the magnitude which is seen in bulk. At the same time, however, matter pre¬ serves its own nature, using this magnitude as a vestment, through which it ran together with it, when magnitude running became its leader. But if at any time it should divest itself of magnitude, it would again remain the same as it w as before in itself ; or would be as great as form when present caused it to be. And soul, indeed, possessing the forms of beings, since she is also herself a form, contains all things at once. Since, likewise, each 173 form is at once wholly contained in her, hence per¬ ceiving the forms of sensibles as it were converted o and acceding to her, she cannot endure to receive them with multitude, but sees them divested of bulk. For she cannot become any thing else than what she is. Matter, however, having nothing repercussive ; for it has no energy ; but being a shadow, stays to suffer whatever the producing cause may effect in it. That also which proceeds from the reason that is in soul, has now a vestige of the thing which is about to be effected ; just as in the iconic nature of the phantasy, reason which is moved, or the motion from reason, is a division into parts ; since if it was one and the same, it would not be moved, but be permanent. Matter, however, is not able to intro¬ duce at once all things into itself, for if it were able, it would be some one of all things. But since it is necessary that it should receive all things, yet not impartibly, it is requisite that existing as the place of all things, it should proceed to all things, meet with them, and be sufficient for every interval, because it is not itself comprehended by interval, but is exposed to the reception of it. How does it happen, therefore, that one thing entering into 174 matter, does not impede other things ? It is because all things cannot enter together at the same time ; for if they could, there would not be any thing which is first. But if there is, it is the form of the universe ; so that all things are indeed simulta¬ neous, but each has a partial existence. For the matter of the animal nature is distributed in con¬ junction with the division of the animal into parts. For if this were not the case, nothing would have been produced besides reason. XIX. The things, therefore, which enter into matter as a mother, neither injure it, nor benefit it. For the impulses of these do not pertain to matter, but to each other, because the powers of these also pertain to contraries, but not to subjects, unless the subjects are considered in conjunction with the im¬ pulses. For heat destroys cold, and the black the white; or if they are mingled together, another quality is produced from the mixture. Hence, things which are mingled suffer ; but with them, to suffer, is not to be that which they were before. In animated natures, also, the passions indeed, are about the bodies, the change in quality taking place according to the inherent qualities and powers. 175 But when their state of existence is dissolved, or congregated, or transposed preternatu rally, then, the passions indeed are in the bodies, but know¬ ledge is in the souls that perceive the more vehe¬ ment passions. If, however, they do not perceive them, they have no knowledge of them, but matter still remains. For matter suffers nothing, when cold departs, and heat accedes ; since neither of these is either friendly or foreign to it. Hence, the appellations of a receptacle and nurse are more appropriate to it [than any other names.] But *vhy is it called a mother ? For it does not generate. Those, however, appear to have denominated it a mother, who think that a mother has the relation of matter towards her offspring, as alone receiving, but imparting nothing to the things begotten ; since whatever of body there is in the offspring, is de¬ rived from the nutriment. But if the mother im¬ parts any thing to her progeny, it is not so far as she has the relation of matter, but because she is also form. For form alone is prolific, but the other nature is barren. Whence , also , I think the ancient wise men obscurely signifying this in their mysteries , represent the ancient Hermes always possessing the organ of generation erects thus 176 manifesting that it is intelligible reason which generates in the sensible universe . But they in - dicated the unproliflc nature of matter which al¬ ways remains the same , by the barren substances which were placed about it . For they introduce the mother of all things, which they thus proclaim, receiving the principle according to the subject, and they give her this appellation in order to render their meaning manifest, wishing to indicate to those who are desirous of more accurately compre¬ hending the nature of matter, and who do not in- vestigate it superficially, that it is not entirely similar to a mother. By this, indeed, they demon¬ strate remotely, but at the same time as much as they are able, that matter is unprolific, and not perfectly feminine ; but that it is of a female nature so far as it receives, but not so far as pertains to a generative power. For that which has proceeded into matter, is neither feminine, nor able to gene¬ rate, but is separated from all generative power, which is alone inherent in that which continues to be of a masculine nature. 177 Ο Ν ETERNITY AND TIME I. With respect to eternity and time, we say that each of these is different from the other, and that one of them indeed is conversant with a per¬ petual nature, but the other about that which is generated. We also think that we have a certain clear perception of these in our souls spontaneously, and, as it were, from the more collected projections of intellectual conception ; always and every where calling these by the same appellations. When, however, we endeavour to accede to the inspection of these, and to approach as it were nearer to them, again we are involved in doubt, admitting some of the decisions of the ancients about these, and re¬ jecting others, and perhaps receiving differently the same decisions. Resting also in these, and think- Plot. * M 178 mg it sufficient if when interrogated we are able to relate the opinion of the ancients concerning time and eternity, we are liberated from any farther investigation about them. It is necessary, there¬ fore, to think that some of the ancient and blessed philosophers have discovered the truth ; but it is fit to consider who those are that have obtained it, and after what manner we also may acquire the same knowledge on these subjects. In the first place, however, it is requisite to investigate what those conceive eternity to be, who admit that it is different from time. For that which is established as the paradigm being known, that also which is the image of it, and which they say is time, will per¬ haps become manifest* But if some one, prior to the survey of eternity, should imagine what time is, it will happen to him, proceeding from hence thither by reminiscence, that he will behold the nature to which time is assimilated, if the latter has a simili¬ tude to the former. II. What, therefore, is it requisite we should assert eternity to be ? Shall w?e say it is the intelli¬ gible essence itself, just as if some one should say that time is the whole heaven and the world ? For 179 some are said to have had this opinion concerning time. For since we imagine and conceive eternity to be something most venerable, and an intelligible nature is also most venerable, we are unable to say which is the more venerable of the two ; and since also, that which is beyond these is not to be predi¬ cated in the same way, some one may he induced to consider eternity and an intelligible essence as the same. For again, both the intelligible world and eternity comprehend in themselves the same things. When, however, we say that the one is in the other, we place intelligibles in eternity ; and when we predicate the eternal of intelligibles, as when Plato in the Timaeus says, “ if the nature of the paradigm is eternal,” we then assert that the eternal is different from the intelligible. Never¬ theless, we say that it either exists about, or in, or is present with an intelligible essence. That each of them, however, is venerable, does not manifest a sameness of nature ; for perhaps the venerableness of the one is derived from the other. With respect to comprehension also, that of the intelligible is as of parts, but eternity comprehends the whole at once not as a part, but because all such things as are eternal subsist according to it. Shall we, there- 180 fore, say that eternity exists according to the per¬ manency which is in intelligibles ; just as here, time is said to exist according to motion ? It may, however, be very properly investigated, whether eternity is the same with permanency, or whether it is not simply the same, but is the same with the permanency which is about essence. For if it is the same with permanency [simply considered] in the first place, we cannot say that permanency is eternal, as neither do we say that eternity is eternal. For the eternal is that which participates of eter¬ nity. And in the next place, how is motion eter¬ nal ? For thus it will be stable. Farther still, how does the conception of permanency contain in itself ihe ever ? I do not mean the ever which is in time, but such as we intellectually perceive when we speak of the eternal. But if it contains the ever in the stability of essence, again, we shall separate the other genera of being from eternity. Besides, it is not only necessary to conceive eternity as sub¬ sisting in permanency, but also as subsisting in one. And in the next place, we must admit that eternity is without interval, in order that it may not be the same with time. Permanency, however, so far as it is permanency, neither contains in itself the con- 181 ception of unity, nor of that which is without inter- val. But we predicate of eternity that it abides in one. Hence, it will participate of permanency, but will not be permanency itself. III. What, therefore, will that be according to which we say, the whole world which is there is eternal and perpetual ? And what is perpetuity ? Whether it is the same with eternity, or eternity subsists according to perpetuity. Shall we say, therefore, that it is necessary to conceive of eternity as one certain thing, but a certain intelligence or nature collected together from many things, whe¬ ther it be something consequent to the natures in the intelligible world, or existing together with, or perceived in them, but which is able to effect and is many things. Indeed, he who surveys an abundant power collected into one, according to this parti¬ cular thing which is as it were a subject, he deno¬ minates it essence ; afterwards, so far as he be¬ holds life in it, he denominates it motion ; and in the next place, he calls it permanency, so far as it entirely possesses an invariable sameness of sub¬ sistence. And he denominates it different and the same, so far as all these are at once one. Thus, 182 therefore, composing these, so as to be at once one life alone, contracting in them difference, and be¬ holding an unceasing sameness of ener gy, and which never passes from one intelligence or life to ano¬ ther, but always possesses the invariable, and is without interval ; — beholding all these, he will be¬ hold eternity. For he will perceive life abiding in sameness, and always possessing every thing pre¬ sent, and not at one time this, and afterwards ano¬ ther thing, but containing all things at once, and not now some things, and again others. For it is an impartible end ; just as in a point where all things subsist at once, and have not }ret proceeded into a [linear] flux. It likewise abides in the same, i. e. in itself, and does not suffer any change. But it is always in the present, because nothing of it is past, nor again will be in future, but this very thing which it is, it always is. Hence, eternity is not a subject, but that which as it were shines forth from a subject, according to sameness itself, which it announces not concerning the future, but that which is now present, indicating that it subsists in this manner, and in no other. For what can after¬ wards happen to this, which it now is not? Nor again, will it be in futurity what it is not at present. 183 For there is not any thing from which it can arrive at the present time. For it is not another thing, hut this. Nor will it be this in future, which it does not now possess from necessity ; nor does it possess about itself that which was. For what is there which was present with it and is past? Nor does that which will be, belong to it. For what is there which will happen to it? It remains, there¬ fore, that in to be , it is that which it is. Hence, that which neither was, nor will be, but alone is, stably possessing its being, in consequence of not changing into will be, nor having been changed from the past, is eternity. The life, therefore, which is about being, and which in existence or to be , is at once total and full, and every where without interval, is the eternity which we investi- 7 *j gate. IV. Nor must we think that this [eternity] happens externally to that nature, [viz. to being itself,] but that it is in it, and from it, and subsists together with it. For it is seen to be profoundly inherent in it. For perceiving all such other things as we say are there, to be inherent, we assert that all of them are from, and subsist together with 184 essence. For it is necessary that things which have a primary subsistence, should exist together with first essences, and should be contained in them ; since the beautiful also is in and from them, and truth also is inherent in them. And in a cer¬ tain degree, indeed, the whole itself is as it were in a part, and the things which are there are as parts in a whole, as if in reality this were an all not col¬ lected from parts, but itself generating parts, in order that through this it may be truly all. The truth also which is there, is not a concord with something else that is intelligible, but of each thing itself of which it is the truth. It is necessary, therefore, that the whole of this which is true, if it is truly all, should not only be every thing so far as it is all things, but likewise that the all should sub¬ sist in such a way, as not to be in any thing defi¬ cient. But if this be the case, nothing will accede to it. For if something will be added to it, it was prior to the accession of this deficient. Hence, prior to this it was not every thing. But what can happen to it preternaturally ? For it suffers nothing. If, therefore, nothing can accede to it, it neither is about to be, nor will be, nor was. If, indeed, you take away from generated natures, the it will be , 185 since they subsist in perpetual acquisition, non- existence is immediately present with them. But to things which are not such as these, if you add the it will he , a departure from the seat of exist¬ ence is the consequence of such an addition. For it is evident that existence is not connascent with them, if they are in any respect indebted to futurity for their subsistence. For in generated natures, indeed, essence is seen to be an extension from the beginning of generation, to the extremity of the time in which they no longer exist. This it is, therefore, for them to be ; and if any one should deprive them of this extension of being, their life would be diminished. So that it is necessary that the existence of the universe also, should be an ex¬ tension of this kind. Hence, it hastens to be in futurity, and is not willing to stop, since it attracts existence to itself, in performing another and ano¬ ther thing, and is moved in a circle through a cer¬ tain desire of essence. So that we have found what existence is in such natures as these, and also what the cause is of a motion which thus hastens to be perpetually in the future periods of time. In first and blessed natures, however, there is not any desire of the future ; for they are now the whole, 186 and whatever of life they ought to possess, they wholly possess, so that they do not seek after any thing, because there is not any thing which can be added to them in futurity. Hence, neither does that happen to them in which there is the future. The all-perfect and total essence therefore of being, is not only total in its parts, but is not in any thing deficient, and is that to which nothing pertaining to non-being can happen ; for it is not only necessary that all beings should be present with the all , and the whole , but likewise that nothing should be added to it of that which sometimes is not. Hence this disposition and nature of the all -perfect essence of being, will be eternity. For eternity is denomi¬ nated from that which always is. V. He, however, will know that eternity T thus * subsists, who by the projecting * energies of intel¬ lect is able to speak concerning it : or rather, he who sees it to be a thing of such a kind, that s Instead of nvt here, it appears to me to be necessary to read τω αιωνι. * The visive energies of intellect are thus denominated, be¬ cause such an energy is an immediate darting forth as it were to the object of its intuition. 187 nothing in short has ever been generated about it ; for otherwise it would not be perpetual being, or would not always be a certain total being. Is it therefore now perpetual ? It is not, unless a nature of such a kind is inherent in it, as to procure credi¬ bility concerning it, that it thus subsists, and no longer in any other way. So that if again you survey it by the projecting energies of intellect, you will find that it is such a thing as this. What then, if some one should never depart from the contemplation of it, but should incessantly perse¬ vere in admiring its nature, and should be able to do this through the possession of an unwearied * nature, such a one perhaps running to eternity, would there stop, and never decline from it, in order that he might become similar to it, and eter¬ nal, surveying eternity and the eternal by that which is eternal in himself. If, therefore, that which thus subsists is eternal, and always being, which does not decline in any respect to another nature, but the life which it possesses is now all, neither having received, nor receiving, nor being about to receive any thing in future ; — that which thus subsists, will indeed be perpetual. And per- 188 petuity is such a collocation as this of a subject, subsisting from it, and being inherent in it. But eternity is the subject in conjunction with a collo¬ cation of this kind presenting itself to the view. Hence eternity is venerable, and as our intellectual conception of it says, is the same with deity. But it says that it is the same with that God [whom we call by the appellation of being and life.] And eternity may be properly denominated a God un¬ folding himself into light, and shining forth, such as he essentially is, viz. as immutable and the same, and thus firmly established in life. It ought not, however, to be considered as wonderful, if we say that it consists of many things. For every thing in the intelligible world is many, on account of the infinite power which it possesses ; since the infinite receives its appellation from a never-failing essence. And this properly, because nothing pertaining to it is consumed. Hence, if some one should thus denominate eternity, calling it life which is now infinite, because it is all, and nothing of which is consumed, because nothing pertaining to it is either past or future, since otherwise it would not be all things at once ; — if some one should thus denomi- J89 nate it, he will be near to the true definition 1 of it. For what is afterwards added, viz. that it is all things at once, and that nothing of it is consumed, will be an exposition of the assertion, that it is now infinite life. VI. Because, however, such a nature as this, thus all-beautiful and perpetual, subsists about the one , proceeding from and with it, and in no respect departing from it, but always abides about and in the one , and lives according to it, hence I think it is beautifully and with a profundity of decision, said by Plato, that “ eternity abides in one,” 1 that he might not only lead it to the one which is in itself, but that he might also in a similar manner lead the life of being about the one . This, there¬ fore, is that which we investigate, and that which thus abides is eternity. For this very thing, and 1 This definition of eternity is justly admired by Proclus in his 3d book On the Theology of Plato, of which see my trans¬ lation. Boetius, likewise, as I have elsewhere observed, has adopted this definition in lib. 5. De Consol. Philosoph. * Plato, however, does not by the one in this place, mean the ineffable principle of things, but the one of being, or the summit of the intelligible order, as is shown by Proclus in the above mentioned work. 190 which thus abides, which is the energy of a life abiding from itself, subsisting with and in the one , and which neither in existing nor living is false and fictitious, will certainly be eternity. For to be truly, is never not to be, nor to be otherwise. But the former of these is to be invariably the same ; and the latter is to be without diversity. Hence it has not in any respect, another and another. You must not, therefore, conceive it to have interval, nor evolve, nor extend it. Neither, therefore, must you admit that there is any thing of prior and pos¬ terior in it. Hence, if there is neither prior nor posterior about it, but the is, is the truest of all the things about it, and is itself, and this in such a way as to be essence and life ; — if this be the case, again that which we call eternity will present itself to our view. But when we say that it is always, and that it is not at one time being, and at another time non-being, it is requisite to think that we thus speak for the sake of perspicuity ; since the term always, is perhaps not properly employed, but is assumed for the purpose of manifesting its incor¬ ruptible 1 nature. And farther still, it signifies that 1 After του άφθαρτου in the Greek, the words πλανώ αν την φυχψ', ets εκβασιν τον πλειονοε follow, which are to me uiiiiif 191 it never fails. Perhaps, however, it would be better to call it only being. But though being is a name sufficient to essence, yet since some are of opinion that generation also is, essence, it is requi¬ site for the sake of discipline to add the term al¬ ways. For one thing is not being, but another perpetual being ; as neither is a philosopher one thing, but a true philosopher another. Because, however, some persons are only philosophers in appearance, the addition of a true philosopher be¬ came necessary. Thus, likewise, the always was added to being, and being to the always . So that it was called axon ; on which account the always was assumed, in order that the conjunction of being with the always , might indicate that which is truly being. The always , likewise, must be contracted into a power devoid of interval, and which besides what it now possesses, is not in want of any thing. But it possesses every thing. Hence it is every thing and being, and is not indigent of any thing. telligible. Something, I conceive, is omitted ; but ί am not able to conjecture what the omission is. The version of these words by Ficinus is certainly nonsense ; for it is, " animum potest reddere vagabundum per quendam in plura exitum et proven! um.” 19% Nor is a nature of this kind, full indeed in one re¬ spect, but deficient in another. For that which exists in time, though it may seem to be as perfect as is sufficient to body, yet it is perfect through soul, and is in want of something future, because it is deficient in time of which it is indigent ; so that it exists together with time, if it is present with it, and being imperfect, runs in conjunction with it. On this account, therefore, it is equivocally said to be a perfect being. That, however, which is a thing; of such a kind, as neither to be in want of futurity, nor to be measured by some other time, nor to be in futurity infinite, and this infinitely, but now possesses that which it ought to be ; — -this is that after which our intellectual conception » » aspires ; the being of which is not derived from a certain quantity of extension, but is prior to all quantity. For it is fit, since it is not of a definite quantity, that it should not at all come into contact with quantity, lest the life of it being divided, should lose its pure impartibiiity ; but that it should be both in life and essence impartible. When, however, it is said in the Timasus that the demiurgus was good, this must be referred to the conception of the universe, signifying that what is 193 beyond the universe, does not originate from a cer¬ tain time ; so that neither is the world allotted a certain temporal beginning, since the cause of its existence is the source of priority. At the same time, however, Plato thus speaking for the sake of perspicuity, blames afterwards this expression was goody as not altogether rightly employed in things which are allotted what is called and is intellec¬ tually conceived to be, an eternal subsistence^ VII. Do we, therefore, bear witness to the things of which we now speak, as to things foreign from our nature ? But how is this possible ? For how can intellectual perception be effected, except by contact ? And how can we come into contact with things that are foreign to us ? It is necessary, therefore, that we also should participate of eter¬ nity. Since, however, we exist in time, how is this possible ? But we shall know what it is to be in time, and what it is to be in eternity, when we have discovered what time is. We must, therefore, descend from eternity to time, and the investigation of time. For there, indeed, the progression was to that which is above, but we must now speak de¬ scending, yet not profoundly, but our descent must Plot . N 194 be such as that of time· If, indeed, nothing had been said concerning time by ancient and blessed men, it would be necessary that connecting from the beginning what follows with eternity, we should endeavour to speak what appears to us to be the truth on this subject, and to adapt our opinion to the conception of it which we possess. Now, however, it is necessary first to assume those asser¬ tions which especially deserve attention, and to consider if what we say is concordant with some one of them. But perhaps the assertions concern- ing time, ought in the first place to receive a three¬ fold division. For time may be said to be either motion, or that which is moved, or something per¬ taining to motion. For to say that it is either permanency, or that which is stable, or something pertaining to permanency, will be perfectly remote from the conception of time, since it is in no re¬ spect the same, [and therefore, can never accord with that which is stable.] Of those, however, who sav that time is motion, some indeed assert that it is every motion ; but others, that it is the motion of the universe. But those who say it is that which is moved, assert it to be the sphere of the universe. And of those who say it is some- 195 thing pertaining to motion, or the interval of mo¬ tion ; some assert that it is the measure of motion, but others that it is an attendant on it, and either on every motion, or on that which is arranged/ VIII. It is not, indeed, possible, that time should be motion, neither if all motions are assumed, and one as it were is produced from all of them, nor if that motion is assumed which is orderly. For each of these motions is in time. If, however, some one should say that motion is not in time, much less will motion be time ; since that in which mo¬ tion is, is one thing, and motion itself another a 1 Archytas the Pythagorean defined time to be the universal interval of the nature of the universe, in consequence of sur» veying the continuity in the productive principles of that na¬ ture, and their departure into division. Others still more ancient defined time to be, as the name manifests, a certain dance of intellect ; but others defined it to be the periods of soul ; others, the natural receptacle of these periods ; and others, orderly circulations ; all which (says Iamblichus, from whom this information is derived) the Pythagoric sect com¬ prehends. Both Archytas also and Aristotle appear to have admitted time to be a continued and indivisible fux of nows . See a treasure of the conceptions of the ancients on this sub¬ ject, in the Additional Notes to my translation of Aristotle’s Physics. For a\y ov here, it is necessary to read άλλον. 196 thing. Since, however, there are besides these other assertions, it may be sufficient to observe, that motion may indeed cease and be interrupted, but time cannot. But if some one should say that the motion of the universe is not interrupted, yet this motion, if it is admitted that the circulation [of the world] is in a certain time, will itself be carried round to the same point from whence it began ; and not to that point in which the half of it only is accomplished. And this motion, indeed, will be the half, but the other will be double, each being the motion of the universe, both that which proceeds from the same to the same, and that which arrives only at the half. The assertion, also, that the motion of the outermost sphere is most vehement and rapid, bears witness to what we say * so that the motion of it is one thing, and time another. For that motion is the most rapid of all, which in the least time passes through the greatest interval. But other motions are slower, which are performed in a longer time, and pass through a part only of the same space. If, therefore, time is not the motion of the outermost sphere, much less will it be that sphere itself, which in conse* quence of being moved is conceived to be time. 197 Is, therefore, time something belonging to motion ? If indeed it is interval, in the first place, there is not the same interval of every motion, nor of uni¬ form motion. For the motion which is in place is swifter and slower, and both the intervals may be measured by another third interval, which may with greater rectitude be denominated time. But of which of these motions will time be the interval ? Or rather, will it be the interval of any one of them, since they are infinite ? And if time is the interval of orderly motion, it is not the interval of every motion, nor of every motion of this kind. For these are many. So that there will also be at once many times. But if time is the interval of the uni¬ verse, if indeed it is the interval in motion itself, what else will it be than motion, viz. so much ; and this quantity of motion will either be measured by place, because the place which it passes through is so much in quantity, and the interval will be this. This, however, is not time, but place. Or motion by its continuity, and from not immediately ceasing, but being always assumed, possesses interval. But this will be the multitude of motion. And if some one looking to motion should assert that it is much, just as if it should be said that heat is much, neither 198 will time here also present itself to our view, nor become obvious ; but motion again and again will occur, like water repeatedly flowing, and also the interval which is beheld in it. The again and again also will be number, as the duad or the triad ; but the interval will belong to bulk. Thus, therefore, the multitude of motion will he as the decad, or as the interval which is beheld as it were in the bulk of motion, which is not attended with a conception of time. But this quantity of motion will be gene¬ rated in time ; for otherwise, time will not be every where, but will be in motion as in a subject. It will, likewise, again happen that time will be said to be motion For the interval is not external to motion, but is motion not at once collected toge¬ ther. But if it is not at once collected, if an at- once-collected subsistence is in time, in what re¬ spect does that which is not at-once-collected differ from that which is P Shall we say that they differ in time ; so that the separating motion, and the inter¬ val of it, are not time itself, but subsist in time ? If, however, some one should say, that the interval of motion is time, by the interval not meaning the peculiarity of motion, but that with which motion has an extension* as if running together with it, yet 199 what this is, k not unfolded. For it is evident that time is that in which the motion was generated* This, therefore, is that which was investigated from the first, viz. what that existing thing is which is time ; since this is just as if some one being asked what time is, should say that the interval of motion is in time. What, therefore, is this interval, which he calls time, who supposes it to be external to the proper interval of motion ? For again, he who places temporal interval in motion itself, will be dubious where he should place the interval of rest. For as much as a certain thing is moved, so much also will something else have been quiescent. And you may say that the time of each is the same, though its relation to the one, is different from its relation to the other. What therefore is this interval, and what nature does it possess ? For it is not possible that it should be local, since this has an external subsistence. IX. In the next place, it must be considered how time is the number or measure of motion ; for it is better to assert this of it, on account of its continuity. In the first place, therefore, here also it may be doubted* whether it is similarly the num- 200 her or measure of every motion, in the same manner as it was dubious respecting the interval of motion. For how can any one numerate inordinate and ano- V malous motion, or what number or measure will there be of it, or according to what will the measure subsist ? But if he numerates and measures with the same thing, both irregular and regular motion, whether swift or slow, the number and the measure will be a thing of such a kind, as if it were the decad, measuring both horses and oxen, or as if the same thing were the measure both of moist and dry substances. If, therefore, time is a measure of this kind, it has indeed been shown what the things are of which time is the measure, viz. that it is the measure of motions, but it has not yet been shown what time is. If, however, in the same manner as the decad when assumed without horses, may be understood as number, and a measure is a * measure possessing a certain proper nature, though it should not yet measure any thing, thus also it is necessary time should subsist, being a measure; — if therefore time is such a thing in itself as number, in what will it differ from this number which sub¬ sists according to the decad, or from any other monadic number ? But if it is a continued measure, 201 being a certain quantity, it will be such a measure as a certain cubital magnitude. It will, therefore, be magnitude, such as a line accompanied with motion. But how, since it also runs, can it mea¬ sure that with which it runs in conjunction ? For why should one measure rather than the other ? And it is better and more probable to admit this not in every motion, but in that with which it con¬ curs. This, however, ought to be continuous, so far as the concurrent motion is successive. But that which measures ought not to be considered as subsisting externally, nor as separate, but as at once measured motion. And what will that be w hich measures ? Will the motion indeed be mea¬ sured, but the magnitude be that w?hich measures ? And which of these will time be ? Will it be the measured motion, or the magnitude which mea¬ sures ? For time will either be the motion which is measured by magnitude, or magnitude which mea¬ sures, or that which uses magnitude, as a cubit for the purpose of measuring the quantity of the mo¬ tion. In all these, however, it is more probable as we have said to suppose that the motion is equable. For without equability, and besides this, without one motion of the universe, the doubt will be 202 greater than that which results from admitting that time is in some way or other the measure of motion. But if time is measured motion, and is measured by quantity, then just as if it were neces¬ sary that motion should be measured, it would not be requisite that it should be measured by itself, but by something else, thus also it is necessary, if motion has another measure besides itself, and on this account we are in want of a continuous mea¬ sure, for the purpose of measuring it, that magni¬ tude itself should have a measure, in order that the motion may be as much in quantity as its measure. And thus time will be the number of the magnitude attending the motion, and not the magnitude which runs in conjunction with the motion. It is necessary, however, to doubt what this ·» number is, whether it is monadic, and how it mea¬ sures ? For though some one should discover how it measures, yet he would not find time measuring, but a certain quantity of time. This, however, is not the same with time [simply considered.] For it is one thing to speak of time, and another, of so much time. For prior to the so much, it is neces¬ sary to say what that is which is so much. Is time, therefore, the number which measures motion ex- 203 ternally ? Such as the decad in horses* and not that which is assumed together with horses. What this number, therefore, is, has not been shown, which prior to measuring, is what it is, in the same man¬ ner as the decad. Shall we say it is that number which measures by running according to the prior and posterior of motion ? 1 But it is not yet mani¬ fest what this number is which measures according to prior and posterior. That, however, which measures according to prior and posterior, whether by a point, or by any thing else, entirely measures according to time. This number,2 therefore, which measures motion by prior and posterior, will be successive to, and in contact with time, in order that it may measure it. For prior and posterior, must either be assumed locally, as the beginning * Time is defined by Aristotle, to be the number of motion according to prior and posterior , which accords with Plato?s definition of it in the Timas us, viz. that it is an eternal image flowing according to number . For this shows that time sub¬ sists according to number which has the relation of an image, and exists according to the order of motion, i. e. according to prior and posterior. In short, time is properly the measure of motion according to the flux of being, which is the peculiarity of generation , or becoming to he . % For xporos here, it is necessary to read αριθμοα. 204 [and end] of a stadium, or temporally. For in short, with respect to prior and posterior, the former indeed is time ending in the now ; but the latter is time beginning from the now . Time, therefore, is different from the number which measures motion according to prior and posterior, not only motion of any kind, but also that which is orderly. In the next place, why when number is adjoined, whether according to the measured, or the measuring, (for the same number may be both that which measures, and is measured) — why therefore when number is added, w ill there be time ; but motion existing, and prior and posterior entirely subsisting about it, there will not be time ? Just as if some one should say that magnitude is not as great as it is, unless some one apprehends what the quantity of it is. Since time, however, is, and is said to be infinite, how will there be number about it, unless a part of it being selected is measured, in which case it will happen that it exists prior to its being measured. But why will not time be prior to the existence of soul that measures it? Unless it should be said thaf the generation of it is effected by soul ; since it is by no means necessary that time should exist because it is measured by soul. For it would exist 205 as much as it is in quantity, though no one should measure it. And if some one should say that it is soul which uses magnitude for the purpose of mea- t suring time, what will this have to do with the con¬ ception of time ? X. But to say that time is an appendix of motion, is not to teach what time is, nor ought this to be said before it is shown what the appendix is. For perhaps it may be time. With respect to this appendix, however, it must be considered, whether it has a posterior, or simultaneous, or prior sub¬ sistence ; if there is an appendix of this kind. For in whatever manner it may be spoken of, it is spoken of in time. Hence, if this is time, it will follow that time is the appendix of motion in time. Since, however, we do not investigate what time is not, but what it is, and much has been said on this subject by many prior to us, according to each position, he who discusses these would rather com¬ pose a history [than discover the nature of time ] To which may be added, that we have occasionally said something concerning these different positions. Some things also may be opposed from what has been already said, to him who asserts that time is 206 the measure of the universe, and likewise such other things as have just now been asserted respect¬ ing the measure of motion. For separate from inequality, all the other particulars may be ad¬ duced, which are adapted to their positions. It follows, therefore, that we should now show what it is necessary to think time is. XI. Again, therefore, it is requisite that we should betake ourselves to that condition of being which we have said is in eternity ; a condition which is immutable, and at once total, a life now infinite and perfectly inflexible, and abiding in one, and directed to the one . But time was not yet, or at least was not in those natures ; but was about to be generated * by the reason and nature of that which is posterior. Inteiligibles, therefore, quietly energizing in themselves, he who desires to know how time first fell, will not perhaps call upon the Muses who did not then exist, to tell him. Per¬ haps, however, he will, since the Muses also then 8 Time* as well as the world, is said to have been generated, not because it once was not* for It always existed, but because it depends for its subsistence on causes naturally prior to itself. 207 had a being.1 Perhaps, too, he will find time itself generated, so far as it is generated and unfolded into light. But he will speak about it as follows : Before this priority originated, and was indigent of the posterior, the former was quiescent together with the latter in being, time not yet existing ; but itself also quietly abiding [i. e. subsisting causally] in real being. A certain nature, however, much conversant with action, wishing to govern, and pos¬ sess authority from itself, and chusing to explore more of the present, was itself indeed moved, and together with it likewise time, always tending to hereafter and the posterior, and not to the same, but to another, and again another existence. But we from this motion producing a certain length of progression, conceive time to be the image of eter¬ nity. For since there was a certain unquiet power * The Muses, considered according to their subsistence in Apollo, belong to the intellectual order, and are therefore superior to time. But if time is supposed to have had a beginning, then the Muses, according to their mundane sub¬ sistence, had no existence prior to the generation of time. To say, therefore, that the Muses did not once exist, is equivalent to the assertion that the intellectual is prior to the mundane order of them, according to nature, order, dignity, and causality. 208 of the soul, wishing always to transfer what it there saw to something else, it was not willing that an at- once-collected all should be present with it. But as reason [i. e. a productive principle] evolving itself from a quiet seed, produces as it fancies an abundant progression, abolishing the abundant by division, and instead of the one subsisting in itself, consuming the one which is not in itself, and thus proceeds into a more imbecile length ; in a similar manner, this nature of soul, producing the sensible through the imitation of the intelligible world, and being moved not with the motion which is there, but with a motion resembling it, and wish¬ ing to be its image, in the first place indeed, renders itself temporal, producing this instead of eternity. In the next place, it causes that which is generated to be subservient to time, making the whole of it to be in time, and comprehending all the progres¬ sions of it in time. For the world is moved in the nature of soul ; since there is not any other place of this universe than soul, and in the time of soul it is moved. For soul exhibiting its energy succes¬ sively, generates together with its energy that which is successive, and proceeds in conjunction with • another reasoning process after that energy, which was not before ; since, neither was the discursive energy of reason effective, nor the present life of soul similar to that which preceded it. Hence, at the same time, there is another life, and this other life will have another time. Distance of life, there¬ fore, [or the interval between one life and another,] will be attended with time. The perpetual exten¬ sion of life also to the anterior part, will have per¬ petual time : and the past life will be accompanied with past time. If, therefore, some one should say that time is the energy 1 of soul, proceeding in a transitive motion from one life to another, will he not appear to say something to the purpose? a For if eternity is life consisting in permanency, and in 8 The word cvepyeia is omitted in the original. % Time, however, according to Proclus, is a medium be¬ tween that which is alone the cause of motion, as soul, and that which is alone immoveable, as intellect. Hence time is truly, so iar as it is considered in itself, immoveable, but so far as it is in its participants, it is moveable, and subsists toge¬ ther with them, unfolding itself into them. He adds, hence it is a certain proceeding intellect , established indeed in eternity, but proceeding and abundantly flowing into the things which are guarded by it. This definition of time by Proclus, appears to me to be uncommonly beautiful and accurate, bee the whole of the passage from which it is taken, in the Additional Notes to my translation of the Timteus of Plato. Plot. o an invariable sameness of subsistence, and which is now infinite, but it is necessary that time should be the image of eternity, just as this universe is the image of the intelligible world ; — if this be the case, instead of the life which is there, it is necessary there should be another life of the discursive power of the mundane soul, homonymous as it w^ere to the life of eternity ; and instead of intellectual motion, that there should be the motion of a certain part of the soul. It is also necessary, that instead of an invariable sameness and permanency of sub¬ sistence, there should be that wdiich does not abide in the same, but alw?ays has another and another energy. Likewise, that instead of an essence which is without interval and one, there should be an image of the one , and which possesses unity in con¬ tinuity of succession. That instead of that which is now infinite, and a whole, there should be that which proceeds ad infinitum, according to what is perpetually successive. And that instead of an at-once-collected whole, there should be that which is a whole according to parts, and is always about to be a whole. For thus it will imitate that which is now wholly what it is, and which is at-once- collected, and infinite, if it wishes its being to con- 211 sist in perpetual acquisition ; since it will thus also imitate the being of eternity. It is necessary, however, not to assume time externally to soul* as neither is eternity in the intelligible world external to being. Nor again, must it be considered as any thing consecutive, or posterior to soul, as neither is eternity to being. But it must be beheld within, and subsisting together with soul, in the same man¬ ner as eternity with being. XII. Here, however, it is necessary to under¬ stand, that this is the nature of time, viz. that it is the length of such a life as we have before men¬ tioned, proceeding in equable and similar muta¬ tions, which themselves proceed in a silent course; this length also possessing a continuity of energy. If, therefore, we again in words make this power to revert, and the life of it to cease which it now pos¬ sesses, and wThich is unceasing, and will never end, because it is the energy of a certain ever-existing soul, not directed to itself, nor in itself, but em¬ ployed in producing and generating if, therefore, we suppose this power no longer energizing, but ceasing from this energy, and also this part of the soul converted to real being and eternity, and 212 abiding in quiet, what will there any further be besides eternity? What will any longer be another and another, where all things abide in one ? And what will be prior or posterior, or more extended ? Where, likewise, will the soul any further betake itself to any other thing than that in which it is ? Or rather, neither will it betake itself to this. For in this case, it must have first departed from it, in order that it may accede to it ; since neither is it the sphere itself [of the universe] which had not an existence prior to time. For this sphere exists, and is moved in time. And though time should stop, this sphere still continuing to energize, we should nevertheless measure the duration of its permanency, as long as the permanency of eternity is external to it. If, therefore, this sphere becom¬ ing quiescent and united, time is taken away, it is evident that the commencement of its motion, round the earth, and this its life, generate time. Hence, also, it is said [in the Timas us of Plato,] that time was generated together with the universe, because soul produced it in conjunction with the universe. For in an energy of this kind, this world was generated. And this energy indeed is time, but the universe is in time. If, however, some one 213 should say, that the circulations of the stars are also denominated by Plato times, he should recol¬ lect that he says these were generated for the pur¬ pose of rendering time manifest and distinct, and that the measure of it might be conspicuous to us. For since it was not possible for time itself to be bounded by soul, nor for each part of it to be measured by us, since it is invisible and incompre¬ hensible, and especially since this is impossible to those who do not know how to numerate,— hence the Demiurgus made day and night, through which mankind were enabled to» apprehend two things by their difference ; from which, as Plato says, they arrived at the conception of number. Afterwards receiving the interval produced by the motion of the sun from the east to the east again, they appre¬ hended what was the quantity of time, the form of the motion being equable ; adhering to which, we use a thing of this kind as a measure of time. For time itself is not a measure. For how could it measure ; and what would it say if it measured ? Will it say this thing is as much in quantity as I am? Who therefore is it that says I? Is it that according to which the measure subsists r Has it not therefore an existence in order that it may measure, but is not a measure ? Hence the mea¬ sured motion of the universe will be according to time And time will not be the measure of mo- tipn, according to that which it is, but according to accident, so that being something else prior to this, it renders the quantity of the motion manifest. One motion also being assumed in so much time, and being frequently enumerated, leads to a con- cep tion of the quantity of time that is past. So that if some one should say that motion and circu¬ lation, after a certain manner, measure time as much as possible, as manifesting in their quantity the quantity of time, which cannot in any other way be assumed or understood, he indeed will not adduce an absurd manifestation of time. Hence , that which is measured by circulation , viz. which is manifested , and not generated by it , will be time . And thus the measure of motion is that which is measured by a definite motion, and is measured by it, as being different from it. For if that which measures was one thing, and that which is measured another, but is measured accidentally ; in this case, it would he just as if some one should say that what is measured by a cubit is magnitude, but should not say what that is which defines the mag- 215 nitude. It would also be just as if some one not being able to render motion itself manifest on account of its indefinite nature, should say that motion is that which is measured by place. For assuming the place which motion passes through, he will say that the quantity of the motion is equal to the quantity of the place. XIII. Circulation, therefore, renders time in which it is performed manifest. It is necessary^ however, that time should no longer alone be that in which something is performed, but that prior to this it should be what it is, namely, that in which other things are moved and at rest, in an equable and orderly manner ; and that from a certain thing of an orderly nature, it should become apparent, and shine forth to our conceptions, yet not be gene¬ rated by this thing, whether it is at rest, or in mo¬ tion. It becomes, however, more apparent when this thing is in motion. For motion contributes more to the knowledge, and transition to the nature of time than rest. And the quantity of the motion of a thing is more known than the quantity of its rest. Hence [some philosophers] have been in¬ duced to say that time is the measure of motion,. 216 instead of saying that it is measured by motion. In the next place, it is requisite to add what that is which is measured by motion, and not to adduce that which accidentally takes place about it, and this alternately. Perhaps, however, they do not intend to say that this takes place alternately, and we do not understand their meaning ; but they clearly asserting that time is a measure according to that which is measured, we do not apprehend their conceptions on this subject. The cause however, why we do not, is because they have not clearly shown in their writings what time is, whether it is a measure, or that which is measured, as if they were writing to those who were acquainted with their opinions, and to their auditors. Plato, indeed, does not say that the essence of time is either a measure, or that which is measured by something, but asserts in order to render it mani¬ fest, that the circulation [of the universe] is allotted something which is the smallest [i. e. the centre,] for the purpose of unfolding the smallest part of time ; so that from hence both the quality and quantity of time may be known. Wishing, how¬ ever, to manifest the essence of time, he says that it was generated together with the universe, and 217 that it is a moveable image of its paradigm eter¬ nity ; because neither does time remain, life not remaining, in conjunction with which it runs and is convolved. But he says, it was generated together with the universe, because such a life as this pro» duced the universe, and one life fabricated both the world and time. If, therefore, this life could be converted into one, time which exists in this life would immediately cease, and also the universe, in consequence of no longer possessing this life. If, however, some one assuming the prior and posterior of the life which is here, should assert this to be time, because this is something, but that the more true motion which has prior and posterior is not any thing, his assertion would be most ab¬ surd. For he would ascribe to inanimate motion the prior and posterior, and also time together with it, but he would not grant this to the motion through the imitation of which the inferior motion exists ; though from this superior motion prior and posterior primarily subsist, since it is a self¬ operative motion. As, likewise, it generates its several energies, thus too it produces that which is successive, and together with the generation a trans- Ition of energies. Why, therefore, do we refer this motion of the universe to the comprehension of the more true motion, and assert that it is in time, but do not refer to this the motion of soul which subsists in itself, and proceeds in a perpetual course? Shall we say it is because that which is prior to it is eternity, which neither runs in con¬ junction, nor is co-extended with this motion ? This first motion, therefore, is referred to time which also it generates, and which together with its own energy it possesses. How, therefore, is time every where ? Because this life and motion are not absent from any part of the world, as neither does the life which is in us desert any part of us. If, however, some one should say that time consists in a non¬ hypostasis, or non-hyparxis, for we are deceived about its essence, in the same manner as when we say of God that he was or will be ; for thus he will be and was in the same manner as that in which it is said he will be , [i. e. in the same manner as time ;] to assertions of this kind there belongs another mode of discussion. With respect to all that has been said, however, it is necessary to. ob¬ serve, that when any one assumes the quantity of 219 space passed over by a man that is moved, he also assumes the quantity of the motion, and when he assumes the quantity of the motion, such for in- stance as is produced in walking, he directs his attention to the boundary s of motion existing in the man prior to this motion, in order that he may judge whether he has walked to the full extent of this boundary. And the body, indeed, which has been moved in so much time, he refers to so much motion ; for this is the cause of its being moved ; and to the time of this motion. But he refers this motion of the body to the motion of the soul which produced an equality of interval. To what, there¬ fore, will he refer the motion of the soul ? For that whatever it may be to which he may wush to refer it, will be now without interval. Hence, this sub¬ sists primarily, and is that in which the rest are contained ; but it is itself no longer contained in any thing else. For there is not any thing by which it can be contained. This, therefore, is primarily ; and the like takes place in the soul of 1 The word used by Plotinus here is ^ayημ a, which signifies in the Physics of Aristotle, the boundary of motion. 220 the universe. Is then time in us also ? May we not say that it is in every such soul, that it subsists uniformly in every similar soul, and that all of them are [in a certain respect] one ? Hence, time will not be divulsed, since neither is eternity, which according to another characteristic is in all uniform natures. 221 ON THE IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL# I. Whether each [part] of us is immortal, or the whole perishes, or one part of us is dissipated and corrupted, but another part perpetually remains, which part is the man himself, may be learnt by considering conformably to nature as follows : Man, indeed, is not something simple, but there is in him a soul, and he has also a body, whether it is annexed to us as an instrument, or after some other manner. However this may be, it must be ad¬ mitted, that the nature and essence of each of these must be thus divided. Since the body, therefore, is itself a composite, reason shows that it cannot remain [perpetually the same] ; and sense likewise sees that it is dissolved and wastes away, and re- ceives all-various destructions ; since each of the 222 things inherent in it tends to its own [i. e. to the whole from which it was derived], and one thing belonging to it corrupts another, and changes and perishes into something else. This, too, is espe¬ cially the case when the soul, which causes the parts to be in friendly union with each other, is not pre- sent with the corporeal masses. If each body, likewise, is left by itself, it will not be one, since it is capable of being dissolved into form and matter, from which it is also necessary that simple bodies should have their composition. Moreover, as be¬ ing bodies they have magnitude, and consequently may be cut and broken into the smallest parts, and through this are the recipients of corruption. Hence, if body is a part of us, we are not wholly immortal. But if it is an instrument [of the soul] it is necessary that being given for a certain time, it should be naturally a thing of this kind. That, however, which is the most principal thing, and the man himself, will be that with reference to the body which form is with reference to matter, since this according to form is as body to matter ; or according to that which uses, the body has the relation to it of an instrument. But in each way soul is the man himself. II. What, therefore, is the nature of this thing [soul] ? If indeed it is a body, it is in every respect capable of being analyzed. For every body is a composite. But if it is not a body, but of another nature, that also must be considered either after the same, or after another manner. In the first place, however, it must be considered into what body this body which they call soul ought to be analyzed. For since life is necessarily present with soul, it is also necessary that this body which is supposed to be soul, if it consists of two or more bodies, should have a connascent life in both, or in each of them ; or that one of these should have life, but the other not, or that neither should be vital. If, therefore, life is present with one of them only, this very thing will be soul. Hence, what body will this be which has life from itself? For fire, air, w^ater and earth, are of themselves inanimate; and with whichever of these soul is present, the life which it uses is adventitious. There are not, however, any other bodies besides these. And those to whom it appears that there are other bodies the elements of these, do not assert that they are souls, or that they have life. But if it should be said, that though no one of these bodies pos- 224 sesses life, yet the congress of them produces life, he who says this would speak absurdly And if each of them has life, one will be sufficient. Or rather, it is impossible that a coacervation of bo¬ dies should produce life, and things void of intel¬ lect generate intellect. Moreover, neither will these, in whatever manner they may say they are mixed, generate either intellect or soul.’ Hence, it is necessary there should be that which arranges, and which is the cause of the mixture ; so that this will have the order of soul. For that which is compounded will not be that which arranges and produces the mixture. But neither will there be a simple body in the series of things, without the existence of soul in the universe ; if reason [or a productive principle] acceding to matter, produces body. For reason cannot proceed from any thing else than from soul. III. If some one, however, should say that an assemblage of atoms or impartibles produce soul by their union, such a one will be confuted by 8 The words η vow , η are omitted in the original ; but from the version of Ficinus it appears that they ought to be inserted. 225 similitude of passion, and by apposition ; since one thing will not thus be generated through the whole, nor will that which is co-passive be produced from bodies which are without passion and incapable of being united. But soul is co-passive with itself. And of impartibles neither body nor magnitude can consist. Moreover, with respect to a simple body, they will not say that it has life from itself so far as it is material. For matter is void of quality. But they will rather say that what is arranged in body according to form possesses life. Hence, if they say that this form is essence, soul will not be both, but one of these ; and this will no longer be body. For this will not also consist of matter ; since if it did, we must again analyze it after the same man¬ ner. But if they assert that this form is a passion of matter and not essence, they must inform us what that is from which this passion and life are derived into matter. For matter will not give form to itself, nor insert soul in itself. Hence, it is necessary that there should be something which is the supplier of life, whether the supply is to matter, or to a certain body, this supplier being external to, and beyond every corporeal nature. Indeed, neither will there be any body, if there is no psychi- Plot . P 226 cal power. For body [perpetually] flows, and its nature is in [continual] motion. The universe 1 also would rapidly perish if all things were bodies ; though some one of them should be denominated soul. For it would suffer the same things as other bodies, since there would be one matter in all of them. Or rather, nothing would be generated, but all things would stop in matter, as there would not be any thing to invest it with form. Perhaps, too, neither would matter have any subsistence what¬ ever. This universe also will be dissolved, if it is committed to the connexion of body, and the order of soul is given to body, as far as to names, viz. to air and a dissipable spirit, and which has not from itself any oneness. For how is it possible, since all bodies are divisible, that this universe if it is committed to any one of them, should not be borne along in a foolish and casual manner? For what order is there, or reason or intellect, in a pneumatic substance, which is in want of order from soul ? But if soul, indeed, has a subsistence, all these will be subservient to it in order to the composition of the world, and the existence of every animal, a 1 το παν is omitted in tlie original. 227 different power contributing from a different thing to [the perfection of] the whole. If soul, however, is not present to the whole of things, these will neither have a subsistence, nor any arrangement. IV. Compelled by truth, the authors of the above mentioned hypothesis also testify, that it is necessary there should be a certain form of soul prior to and more excellent than bodies. For they introduce a spirit endued with intellect, and an in¬ tellectual fire, as if it was not possible there could be a better condition among beings without fire and spirit, and without a place in which it might be established, though they ought to have investigated where bodies are to be placed ; for it is necessary that these should be established in the powers of soul. But if they assert that life and soul are nothing else than a spirit or wind, we must enquire what this celebrated spirit introduced by them is, and how it subsists. For they are compelled to fly to this when they admit that there is another efficacious nature besides bodies. If therefore not every spirit is soul, because there are myriads of inanimate spirits, but a spirit subsisting after a cer¬ tain manner is according to them soul, we ask them 228 whether they say that such a spirit and this habi¬ tude is something belonging to beings, or nothing. But if indeed it is nothing, it will be a name alone. And its subsistence after a certain manner will be also merely a name, and thus it will be an accident to beings. Hence, according to them nothing but matter will have an existence, and soul, deity, and every thing [except matter] will be merely names. If, however, habitude is something pertaining to beings, and different from a subject and from mat¬ ter, and subsists indeed in matter, but is itself im¬ material, because it is not again composed from matter -if this be the case, it will be a certain reason [or productive principle] and will not be body, but of another nature. Farther still, from the following considerations it will be no less mani¬ fest that it is impossible for soul to be any body whatever. For it would either be hot or cold, or hard, or soft, or moist, or firm, or black, or white, and all such different qualities as are in different bodies. Apd if indeed it is hot alone, it will alone heat ; if cold alone, it will alone refrigerate. If also it is alone light, it will by its presence cause things to be light ; if heavy, it will alone render them heavy ; if black, it will blacken ; and if white, 229 will cause them to be white. For it is not the pro¬ vince of fire to refrigerate, nor of cold to produce heat. But soul produces different effects in diffe¬ rent animals, and contrary effects in the same ani¬ mal ; fixing some things, but diffusing others. And some things indeed it causes to be dense, but others rare, black, white, light and heavy ; though from the nature of one body it ought to produce one quality only, and not different qualities. But now it produces many qualities. V. With respect to motions also, why are different motions produced by the soul, and not one only, there being but one [natural] motion of every body ? But if they assign deliberate choice as the cause of some motions, and reasons [or pro¬ ductive principles] as the causes of others, these indeed are rightly assigned. Deliberate choice, however, does not pertain to body, nor reasons, since they are different, but an elementary body is one and simple. Nor can such a body be full of productive power, except so far as this is imparted to it by that which makes it to be hot or cold. But how can it belong to body to increase at cer¬ tain times, and to a certain extent, since it is 230 * τ' » Τ *ί naturally adapted to be increased, except so far as the power of augmenting is assumed in the bulk of matter, and is subservient to that which through it produces the increase P For if soul being body in¬ creases, it is necessary that it should also be in¬ creased, viz. by the addition of a similar body, in order that it may be of an equal bulk vuth that which is increased by it. And that which is added will either be soul, or an inanimate bod) . And if indeed it is soul, whence and how is it introduced, atid how is it added ? But if that which is added is inanimate, how is this animated, how does it accord with the preceding soul, and become one with it, and how does it entertain the same opinions with the former soul ? Will not this added soul, as being foreign, be ignorant of what the other knows P And in the same manner as with another mass belonging to our frame, there will be an efflux from, and an influx into it, and nothing will continue the same.. How, therefore, shall we remember ? And how shall we recognize such things as are appropriate to us, since we shall never employ the same soul ? Moreover, if soul is body, since the nature of body is divided into many parts, each of the parts will not be the same with the whole. If, therefore. 231 soul was a magnitude of a certain quantity, if this quantity should become less, it would no longer be soul ; just as the being of every quantity is changed by ablation, from what it was before. But if some one of those things which have magnitude, being diminished in bulk, should remain the same in quality, so far indeed as it is body, and so far as it is quantity, it is different from what it was ; but through quality which is different from quantity it is able to preserve itself the same. What, there¬ fore, will those say who contend that the soul is body ? In the first place, indeed, with respect to each part of the soul which is in the same body, is each part soul in the same manner as the whole soul ? And again, is this the case with the part of a part ? For if this is admitted, magnitude will con¬ tribute nothing to the essence of the soul ; though it is necessary that it should if soul is a certain quantity. The whole soul, likewise, is every where present with the body ; but it is impossible for the same corporeal whole to be in many things at the same time, or for a part of it to be the same as the whole. And if they say that each of the parts is not soul, then according to them, soul will consist of things inanimate. Besides, if the magnitude of 232 each soul is definite, it will no longer be soul, if it is either extended or diminished. When, there¬ fore, from one copulation and one seed, twins are begotten, or as in other animals many offspring are produced, most of the seed being distributed into many places, where also each part of the seed is a whole, how is it possible this should not teach those who are willing to learn, that where the part is the same w ith the whole, this in the very essence of itself transcends the nature of quantity ; and ought from necessity to be without quantity. For thus alone it can remain the same, quantity being withdrawn, since it has no need of eittier quantity or bulk, its essence being something different from either. Hence soul and reasons [or productive principles] are void of quantity. VI. But that if soul is body, it will not be pos¬ sible to perceive either sensibly or intellectually, or to know scientifically, and that there will neither be virtue, nor any thing beautiful [in human con¬ duct,] will be manifest from the following consi¬ derations. Whatever is able to have a sensible perception of any thing, ought itself to be one, and to apprehend every thing by one and the same 233 power. This will also be the case, if many things enter through many organs of sense, or there are many qualities about one thing, and likewise when there is a variegated appearance such as that of the face, through one thing. For one thing does not perceive the nose, and another the eves, but the same thing perceives at once all the parts of the face. And though one thing proceeds through the eyes, but another through the ears, yet it is necessary there should be one thing at which both these arrive. Or how could the soul sav that these ·/ * are different, unless the perceptions of sense at once terminated in the same thing ? It is necessary, therefore, that this should be as it were a centre, that the senses should on all sides be extended to this, like lines from the circumference of a circle, and that a thing of this kind which apprehends the perceptions of sense should be truly one. For if it were any thing divisible, and the informations of the senses arrived at this as at the two extremities of a line, they must either again concur in one and the same thing as a middle, or there would be ano¬ ther thing there and another, and each would have a sensible perception of each ; just as if I should perceive one thing, but you another, even though 234 the object of sense should be one thing, such as the Face ; or they must be collected into one. And this indeed appears to be the case. For visible forms are collected in the pupils of the eyes ; or how through these could the greatest things be seen ? Hence5 in a still greater degree the forms which arrive at the ruling part of the soul, become as it were conceptions ; and therefore this part also must be impartible. For if it had magnitude, it would be co-divided with the object of sensible perception. Hence, one part of it would perceive a part of the sensible object, and nothing in us would have the apprehension of the whole of a sen¬ sible thing. But the whole is one thing. For how can it be divided ? For in the division, equal can¬ not be adapted to equal, because the ruling part is not equal to every sensible thing. Into how many parts, therefore, must the division of it be made ? Must it be divided into as many parts, as the sen¬ sible perception which is introduced to it, is divided into ? And will each of the parts of the soul, there¬ fore, perceive the parts of the sensible object ? Or shall we say that the parts of the soul will not have a sensation of the parts of the thing perceived ? This however is impossible. But if any part what- 235 ever perceives the whole of the sensible object, since magnitude is adapted to be divided infinitely, it will happen that infinite sensible perceptions will be produced about each part ; so that, for instance, there will be infinite images of the same thing in ο O r our ruling part. Moreover, if that which perceives is body, it will not be able to perceive in any other way, than as if certain images were impressed from wax in a seal ; whether the sensible forms are im¬ pressed in blood, or in air. And if, indeed, they e are impressed as in moist bodies, which it is reason¬ able to suppose they will be, if as in water, they \vill be confounded, and there will be no memory. But if the impressions remain, either it will not be possible for others to be impressed while they re¬ main, so that there will be no other sensible per¬ ceptions, or if others are produced, the former w ill be destroyed, so that there will not be a remem¬ brance of any thing. But if it is possible to remember, and to have a sensible perception of other things after others, the former not impeding the latter, it is impossible for the soul to be body, VII. The same thing also may be seer» from pain and the sensation of pain ; when a man is said 236 to have a pain in his finger or about his finger. For then it is manifest that the sensation of pain is pro¬ duced about the principal or ruling part ; a portion of the spirit being pained, but the ruling part having a perception of the pain, and the whole soul in con¬ sequence of this suffering the same thing. How, therefore, does this happen ? They will say by suc¬ cession, the psychical spirit about the finger suffer¬ ing in the first place, but imparting the passion to that which is next to it, and afterwards to some¬ thing else, until the passion arrives at the ruling part. Hence, it is necessary if that which is pri¬ marily pained perceives, that there should be ano¬ ther sensation of that which is second, if sensation is produced according to succession. And likewise, that there should be another sensation of that which is the third in order ; that there should be many and infinite sensible perceptions of one and the same pain ; and that afterwards all these should be perceived by the ruling part, and besides these, that it should have a perception of its own passion. In reality, however, each of these does not perceive the pain that is in the finger ; but one sensation perceives that the part of the palm of the hand which is next to the finger is pained, and another 237 more remote sensation perceives the pain which is in a more remote part. There will also be many pains, the ruling part not perceiving the passion which is in the finger, but that which is present with itself. And this it will alone know, but will bid farewell to the others, not perceiving that the finger is pained. If, therefore, it is not possible that sensible perception of a thing of this kind should subsist according to succession, and it does not belong to body, since it is a bulk, that one part of it suffering, another part should recognize the suffering ; for in every magnitude this is one thing, and that another ; — if this be the case, it is neces¬ sary that the power which perceives should be a thing of such a kind, as to be every where itself the same with itself. But this pertains to any thing else rather than to body. VIII. Moreover, that neither will it be possi¬ ble to perceive intellectually if the soul is body, may be demonstrated as follows. For if to per¬ ceive sensibly is, for the soul using the body to apprehend sensibles, intellectual perception will not be an apprehension of the objects of such per¬ ception, through body. For unless this is admitted, 238 intellectual will be the same with sensible percept tion. Hence, if to perceive intellectually is to apprehend without body, by a much greater priority it is necessary that the nature which thus perceives should not be body. Farther still, if sense indeed is the perception of sensibles, intellection is the perception of intelligibles. If, however, they are not willing to admit this, yet there will be in us intellections of certain intelligibles, and apprehen¬ sions of things without magnitude. How, there¬ fore, will intellect if it is magnitude, understand that which is not magnitude, and by that wdiich is partible that which is impartible? Shall we say it will understand it by a certain impartible part of itself? But if this be the case, that which under¬ stands will not be body. For there is no need of the whole in order to come into contact with the object of its intellection ; since contact according to one certain thing is sufficient. If, therefore, they admit that the first intellections, which is true, are entirely liberated from body, it is necessary that the nature which intellectually perceives the form separate from body of each thing, should know either real being, or that which is becoming to be. But if they say that intellections are of 239 forms inherent in matter, yet they are then only apprehended when by intellect they are separated from body. For the separation [i. e. abstraction] of a circle and triangle, of a line and a point, is not effected in conjunction with flesh, or in short, with matter. Hence it is necessary that the soul also, in a separation of this kind, should separate itself from the body. And therefore it is necessary that it should not be itself body. I think, likewise, that the beautiful and the just are without magnitude, and consequently the intellection of these is un¬ attended with magnitude. Hence, these approach¬ ing to us are apprehended by that which is imparti¬ ble in the soul, and in the soul they reside in the impartible. How also, if the soul is body, can temperance and justice be the virtues of it, which are its saviours, so far as they are received by it ? IX. There must, therefore, be another nature which possesses existence from itself, and such is every thing which is truly being, and which is neither generated, nor destroyed. For without the subsistence of this, all things would vanish into non-entity, and this perishing, would not afterwards be generated ; since this imparts safety to all other 240 things, and also to the universe which through soul is preserved and adorned. For soul is the princi¬ ple of motion, with which it supplies other things, itself moving itself, and imparting life to the ani¬ mated body. But it possesses life from itself, which it will never lose, because it is derived from itself. For all things do not use an adventitious life, or there would be a progression of life to infi¬ nity. But it is necessary there should be a certain nature primarily vital, w hich is also necessarily in¬ destructible and immortal, as being the principle of life to other things. Here, likewise, it is requisite that every thing divine and blessed should be esta¬ blished, living from itself, and existing primarily being, and primarily vital, void of essential muta¬ tion, and being neither generated nor destroyed. For whence could it be generated, or into what could it perish ? If, likewise, it is necessary that the appellation of being should truly belong to this nature, it is requisite that it should not at one time exist, and at another not ; just as a colour which is of itself white, is not at one time wrhite, and at ano¬ ther not white. If, however, whiteness was [real] being, together with being white, it would likewise always be. But now it possesses whiteness alone. 241 That, however, to which being is present which is from itself, and is primarily being, will always have a subsistence. Hence, this which is primarily and perpetually being, ought not to be destitute of life, like a stone, or a piece of wood, but to be vital, and enjoy a pure life, in that part of itself which is alone permanent. But that part of it which is mingled with a subordinate nature is an impediment to its possession of the best of things, yet it does not through this lose its nature, but resumes its ancient condition, when it recurs to things which are [truly] its owm. X. That soul, however, is allied to a more di¬ vine and eternal nature, is evident from its not being body as w^e have demonstrated, -and also be- cause it has neither figure nor colour. Moreover, this likewise may be shown from the following considerations. It is acknowledged by all of us, that every divine nature, and which is truly being, enjoys an excellent and wise life. This, therefore, being admitted, it is necessary to consider in the next place, what the nature is of our soul. We must assume the soul, however, not receiving in the body irrational desires and angers, and other pas- Plot . Q 242 sions, but as abolishing all these, and as much as possible having no communication with the body. For such a soul as this will perspicuously show that evils are an addition to the soul, and are ex¬ ternally derived ; and that the most excellent things are inherent in it when it is purified, viz. wisdom and every other virtue, which are its proper posses¬ sions, If, therefore, the soul is such when it re¬ turns to itself, how is it possible it should not be¬ long to that nature which we say is possessed by every thing eternal and divine ? For wisdom and true virtue being divine, cannot be inherent in any vile and mortal thing ; but that which is of this kind is necessarily divine, as being full of divine goods, through an alliance and similitude of essence to a divine nature. Hence, whoever of us resembles a soul of this description, will in soul itself differ but little from superior beings ; in this alone being in¬ ferior to them, that he is in body. On which account, also, if every man was such, or if the mul¬ titude employed souls of this kind, no one would be so incredulous as not to believe that our soul is entirely immortal. Now, however, men perceiving that the soul of the greater part of the human race is defiled with vice, they do not reason about it, 243 either as a divine or an immortal thing. But it is necessary, in considering the nature of every things to direct our attention to the purity of it ; since whatever is added, is always an impediment to the knowledge of that to which it is added. Consider the soul, therefore, by taking away [that which is extraneous] ; or rather, let him who takes this away survey himself, and he will believe himself to be immortal, when he beholds himself in the intel¬ ligible wrorld, and situated in a pure abode. For he will perceive intellect seeing not any thing sen¬ sible, nor any of these mortal objects, but by an eternal power contemplating that which is eternal ; every thing in the intelligible world, and itself also being then luminous, in consequence of being en¬ lightened by the truth proceeding from the good \ which illuminates all intelligibles with reality. By such a soul as this, therefore, it may be properly said, Farewell, a God immortal now am 1/ having ascended to divinity, and earnestly striving to become similar to him. If, however, purifica¬ tion causes the soul to have a knowledge of the * A celebrated line of Empedocles, 244 most excellent things, the sciences also which are inwardly latent will then shine forth, and which are truly sciences. For the soul does not by running to externals behold temperance and justice, but perceives them herself by herself, in the intellection of herself, and of that which she formerly was, and views them like statues established in herself, which through time have become covered with rust. These she then purifies, just as if gold were animated, and in consequence of being incrusted with earth, and not perceiving itself to be gold, should be ignorant of itself ; but afterwards shaking off the earth which adheres to it, should be filled with admiration on beholding itself pure and alone. Then, also, it would perceive that it has no need of adventitious beauty, and would consider with itself that it is then in the best condition when it is permitted to be wholly by itself. XI. Who, therefore, endued with intellect will doubt that a thing of this kind is not immortal, to which indestructible life is present from itself? For how is it possible it should perish, since it is not adventitious, and is not possessed in the same way as heat is present with fire ? I do not mean by this, I 245 that heat is adventitious to fire, but that it is so to the subject matter of fire, though it is not to fire itself. For through this fire is dissolved. Soul, however, does not possess life in such a way, as that matter is the subject of it, but life acceding, demonstrates the presence of soul. For either life is essence, and is an essence of such a kind as to live from itself, which is soul, the object of our investigation, and this they acknowledge to be im¬ mortal ; or they must analyze it as a composite. This, also, they must analyze, till they arrive at that which is immortal, and moved from itself, and to which it is not lawful to receive the destiny of death. Or if they say that life is a passion adven¬ titious to matter, they are compelled to acknow¬ ledge that nature to be immortal from which this passion was imparted to matter, and which is inca¬ pable of receiving the contrary to that which it im¬ parts. For it is one nature living in energy. XII. Farther still, if they say that every soul is corruptible, it would be requisite that all things should have long since perished. But if they assert that one soul is corruptible, and another not, as for instance, that the soul of the universe is immortal. 246 but ours not, it is necessary that they should assign the cause of this difference. For each is the cause of motion, and each lives from itself. Each, like¬ wise, comes into contact with the same things by the same power, intellectually perceiving the na¬ tures in the heavens, and also those that are beyond the heavens, investigating every thing which has an essential subsistence, and ascending as far as to the first principle of things. To which may be added, that it is evident the soul gave being to itself prior to the body, from its ability of apprehending what each thing is, by itself, from its own inherent spec¬ tacles, and from reminiscence. And from its em¬ ploying eternal sciences, it is manifest that it is itself perpetual. Besides, since every thing which can be dissolved receives composition, hence, so far as a thing is a composite, it is naturally adapted to be dissolved. But soul being one simple energy, and a nature characterized by life, cannot be cor¬ rupted as a composite. Will it, therefore, through being divided and distributed into minute parts, perish ? Soul, however, is not, as we have demon¬ strated, a certain bulk or quantity. May it not, therefore, through being changed in quality, be cor¬ rupted ? Change in quality however which corrupts, 247 takes away form, but leaves the subject matter. But this is the passion of a composite. Hence* if it is not possible for the soul to be corrupted according to any of these modes, it is necessarily incorruptible. XIII. How, therefore, since the intelligible is separate, does the soul descend into body ? 1 Be» 1 Souls fall into bodies, (says Proclus in Tim. p. 343.) be¬ cause they wish to imitate the providential energies of the Gods, and on this account proceed into generation, and leave the contemplation of true being. For as divine perfection is twofold, one kind being intellectual and the other providential, and one kind consisting in an abiding energy, but the other in motion, hence souls imitate the prolific, intellectual, and im¬ mutable energy of the Gods by contemplation, but their provi¬ dential and motive characteristic, through a life conversant with generation. As the intelligence too, of the human soul is partial, so likewise is her providence ; but being partial it associates with a partial body. But still further, the descent of the soul contributes to the perfection of the universe. For it is necessary that there should not only be immortal and in¬ tellectual animals, such as are the perpetual attendants of the Gods, nor yet mortal and irrational animals only, such as are the last progeny of the Demiurgus of the universe, but like¬ wise such as subsist between these, and which are by no means [wholly] immortal, but are capable of participating reason and intellect. And in many parts of the universe, there are many animals of this kind. For man is not the only rational and mortal animal, but there are other such-like species, some of 248 cause so far as intellect alone is impassive in intel- ligibles, having an intellectual life alone, it abides ■which are more daemoniacal, and others approximate nearer to our essence. But the descents of a partial soul contribute to the perfect composition of all animals, which are at the same time mortal and rational. Should it be again asked. Why, therefore, are partial souls descending into generation filled with such material perturba- * tiou, and such numerous evils ? We reply, that this takes place through the inclination arising from their free will ; through their vehement familiarity with body ; through their sympathy with the image of soul, or that divisible life which is distributed about the body ; through their abundant mutation from an intelligible to a sensible nature, and from a quiet energy to one entirely conversant with motion ; and through a disordered condition of being, naturally arising from the composition of dissimilar natures, viz. of the immortal and mortal, of the in¬ tellectual and that which is deprived of intellect, of the indivi¬ sible and that which is endued with interval. For all these become the cause to the soul of this mighty tumult and labour in the realms of generation ; since we pursue a flying mockery which is ever in motion. And the soul, indeed, by verging to a material life, kindles a light in her dark tenement the body, but she herself becomes situated in obscurity ; and by giving life to the body, she destroys herself and her own intellect, in as great a degree as these are capable of receiving destruction. For thus the mortal nature participates of intellect, but the intellectual part of death, and the whole becomes a prodigy, as Plato beautifully observes in his Laws, composed of the mortal and immortal, of the intellectual and that which is deprived of intellect. For this physical law, which binds the soul to the body, is the death of the immortal life, but is the cause of vivification to the mortal body/7 249 there eternally. For it has not any impulse, or appetite. But that which receives appetite, and is next in order to that intellect, by the addition of appetite proceeds as it were to a greater extent, and being desirous to adorn, in imitation of the forms which it sees in intellect, it becomes as it were pregnant from them. Hence, becoming par¬ turient, it hastens to make and fabricate, and through this festination becoming extended about a sensible nature, when it subsists in conjunction with the soul of the universe, it transcends the sub¬ ject of its government, by being external to it, and thus together with the mundane soul presides over the universe with a providential care. But when it wishes to govern a part of the world, it then governs alone, and becomes [merged] in that in which it is ; yet not so as to be wholly absorbed by body, but even then it possesses something external to body. Hence, neither is the intellect of this soul passive. But this soul is at one time in body, and at another external to it. And being impelled, indeed, to descend from first natures, it proceeds as far as to such as rank in the third degree, and to those with which we are conversant, by a certain energy of intellect ; intellect at the same time 250 abiding in itself, and through soul filling every thing with all that is beautiful, being an immortal adorner through an immortal soul. For intellect itself also exists eternally, through unceasing energy. XIV. With respect to the souls of other animals, such among these as have fallen from a better con» dition, and have proceeded as far as to brutal bodies, these likewise are necessarily immortal. But if there is another species of soul, it is neces¬ sary that this also should not be derived from any other source than a vital nature, since this likewise is the cause of life to animals, and besides this, of the life which is in plants. For all these proceed¬ ing from the same principle, have an appropriate life of their own. And these souls also are incor¬ poreal, impartible, and essences. If, however, it is requisite that the soul of man being tripartite should be dissolved with the composite, we must say that pure souls which are liberated from the body, dismiss that which adhered to them in gene¬ ration ; but that this is accomplished by others in long periods of time. That also which is dis¬ missed, is the worse part, nor will this be destroyed, as long as that subsists from whence it originates. 251 For nothing which is comprehended in being perishes. XV. And thus much has been said by us to those who require demonstration on this subject But such things as should be adduced to those who stand in need of the evidence arising from faith mingled with sensible information, may be selected from history, which abounds with instances in con¬ firmation of the immortality of the soul. It may also be obtained from what the Gods have deli¬ vered in Oracles, when they order the anger of souls that have been injured, to be appeased ; and likewise honours to be paid to the dead, as being still sentient, which honours all men pay to de¬ parted souls. Many souls also who once ranked among men, do not cease when liberated from bo¬ dies to benefit mankind. And these by employing divination benefit us in other respects, and demon¬ strate through themselves, that other souls also do not perish. 252 ON THE THREE HYPOSTASES, THAT RANK AS THE PRINCIPLES OF THINGS I. What is the reason that souls become obli¬ vious of divinity, being ignorant both of themselves and him, though their allotment is from thence, and they in short partake of God ? The principle therefore of evil to them is audacity, generation, the first difference,1 and the wish to exercise an unrestrained freedom of the will. When, therefore, they began to be delighted with this unbounded 1 The five genera of being are, essence, sameness, difference , motion and permanency. This difference , therefore, which ranks as the first, and which is the source of all diversity, causes souls by predominating in them to be forgetful of deity, and themselves . 253 liberty, abundantly employing the power of being moved from themselves, they ran in a direction contrary [to their first course], and thus becoming most distant from their source, they were at length ignorant that they were thence derived. Just as children who are immediately torn from their parents, and have for a long time been nurtured at a great distance from them, become ignorant both of themselves and their parents. Hence, souls neither seeing their father, nor themselves, despise themselves through ignorance of their race, but honour other things, and admiring every thing rather than themselves, being vehemently astonished about, and adhering to sensible natures, they as much as possible hurl themselves [from their true parents], and thus despise the beings from which they have become elongated. Hence, the honour which they pay to sensible objects, and the con¬ tempt of themselves, happen to be the causes of their all-perfect ignorance. For at the same time they pursue and admire something else, and acknowledge themselves to be inferior to that which they admire and pursue. But the soul admitting that it is something subordinate to things which are generated and corrupted, and apprehending that it 254 is the most ignoble and mortal of every thing which it honours, neither believes in the nature nor power of God. Hence, it is necessary that there should be a twofold discourse to those who are thus af¬ fected, in order to convert them to the contraries [to the things they admire], and to first natures, and to elevate them as far as to that which is highest, and one, and the first. What, therefore, is each of these discourses ? One of them, indeed, is that which shows the cause why the soul honours these sensible objects, which we have elsewhere largely discussed ; but the other teaches and re¬ minds the soul of the greatness of its origin, and its true dignity ; which discussion is prior to the former, and when manifested will render that ma¬ nifest Of this, therefore, we must now speak. For this is proximate and conducive to the object of enquiry. For that which is investigated is soul ; and what it investigates should be known by it, in -r order that it may in the first place learn whether it has the power of investigating things of this kind ; and also whether it has such an eye as is able to see them, and whether they are properly objects of its enquiry. For if they are foreign to its nature, why should it investigate them ? But if they are 255 allied to it, it is expedient and possible to discover them. IT. Every soul, therefore, ought to consider in the first place, that soul produced all animals, and inspired them with life ; viz. those animals w hich the earth and sea nourish, those w'hich live in the air, and the divine stars contained in the heavens. Soul also made the sun ; soul made and adorned this mighty heaven. Soul, too, circumvolves it in an orderly course, being of a nature different from the things which it adorns, which it moves, and causes to live, and is necessarily more honourable than these. For these are corrupted when soul deserts them, and generated when it supplies them with life. But soul always exists, because it never deserts itself What the mode is, however, by which life is supplied to the universe, and to each of its parts, may be considered to be as follows : Let a certain other soul whose dignity in contem¬ plating is not small, being liberated from deception, and the allurements which fascinate other souls, be established in a quiet condition and survey a mighty soul. And let not only the surrounding body and the storms of body be at rest with respect to it, 256 but the whole of that by which it is surrounded. Let the earth, therefore, be still ; let the sea be still, the air, and the heavens themselves which are more excellent than the elements.1 Afterwards, 1 Proclus had evidently this beautiful passage in view, when, in his second book On the Theology of Plato, he celebrates the ineffable principles of things, with the following matchless magnificence of diction. unities, images of the erne], descending from the father ; and from these descending, the soul plucks of empyrean fruits, the soul-nourishing flower.” See my Collection of these Oracles, in the Old Monthly Magazine. 344 as in its progression it has soul for its saviour. The magnitude of the shadow, likewise, is as great as the reason .[or productive principle] which is sus¬ pended from soul. But the reason was of such a kind as to be able to produce as great a magnitude as the form of it wished might be produced. X. Thus conceiving, therefore, it is requisite that again betaking ourselves to that which always subsists invariably the same, we should assume all things existing at once, such as the air, light, the sun, and the moon. And, likewise, that we should again consider light and the sun as at once all things, but having the order of things first, second, and third. Here, also, we must consider soul as being always established ; and in the next place, we must assume the natures which are first, and those that are in a consequent order, as the extre¬ mity of fire in that which is posterior ; from the shadow of that fire which subsists at the extremity of things, forming a conception of the fire which ranks as the first. In the next place, we must conceive this ultimate fire to be at the same time illuminated, so as to resemble form running into that nature which is hurled towards it, which was 345 first generated, and is entirely obscure. It is, how» ever, adorned according to reason by the power of soul, which possesses in itself wholly a power of adorning by reasons [or productive principles] ; just as the reasons in seeds fashioir and give form to animals, as if they were certain little worlds. For whatever comes into contact with soul, is made to be such as the essence of soul is naturally adapted to make it. Soul, however, makes, not by an adventitious decision, nor by waiting for counsel and consideration ; for thus it would make not according to nature, but according to adscititious art. For art is posterior to, and imitates soul ; producing obscure and imbecile imitations, which are things of a ludicrous nature, and not of much worth, and employing many machines in the form¬ ation of images. But soul by the power of essence has dominion over bodies in such a way, that they are generated and subsist, just as she leads them, since they are unable from the first to oppose her will. For in things of a posterior nature which impede each other, matter 1 is frequently deprived of the attainment of the appropriate form which 1 From the version of Ficinus, it is necessary here to supply the word η ν\η. 346 the productive principle [latent] in the seed wished it to haver There, however, [i. e. in the universe], the whole form being generated by soul, and the generated natures having at the same time an arrangement, that which is produced becomes beautiful without labour, and without impediment. But in the universe are fabricated, some things in¬ deed which are statues of the Gods, others which are the habitations of men, and others which are adapted to other things. For what else ought to b£ generated about soul, except those things which it possesses the power of producing? For the pro¬ perty of fire is to produce heat, and of another thing [cold] to refrigerate. But the peculiarity of soul is, partly to produce something from itself into another thing, and partly to produce something in itself. For in inanimate natures, indeed, that which is from themselves, lies in them as it were in a dor¬ mant state ; but that which tends to another thing, endeavours to assimilate to itself that which is able to be passive to it. And this is common to each of them, to lead other things to a similitude to itself. That which energizes, however, in soul is something of a vigilant nature, and this is also the case with that which tends from it to another thing. 347 Hence, it causes other things to live which do not live from themselves, and confers on them such a life as it lives itself. The life of soul, therefore, being essentialized in reason, imparts reason to body, as an image of that which it possesses itself. For that which it imparts to body is an image of life. Body, also, receives from soul corporeal morphcz , of which soul contains the productive principles. Soul, likewise, comprehends in itself the productive principles of Gods/ and of all things. Hence, the world also contains all things in itself. XI. Those ancient wise men, likewise, who wishing that the Gods should be present with them, fabricated temples and statues, appear to me to have directed their attention to the nature of the universe, and to have intellectually perceived, that the nature of soul is every where tractable ; and that it may be received the most easily of all things, if any thing is fashioned so as to be passive to it, and is able to receive a certain portion of it. But i. e. Of divine souls, each of which is a God according to participation. See the first book of my translation of Pro cl us On the Theology of Plato. every thing is disposed to be passive which is in any way imitative, so as to be able like a mirror to seize a certain form. For the nature of the uni¬ verse has fashioned all things most artificially in imitation of those forms the participations of which it contains in itself. And since every thing is thus generated, the reason [or productive principle] in matter, which was fashioned according to a reason prior to matter, is conjoined to that God, con¬ formably to whom it was generated, and which the soul looks to, and possesses while it fabricates. Hence it was not possible for any thing to be gene¬ rated destitute of this God ; nor again , is it possi¬ ble for him t& descend hither; since this God is intellect, the sun of the intellectual world. Let this, therefore, be assumed by us as the paradigm of reason. But next to this soul follows, suspended from permanently abiding intellect, and being also itself permanent. Soul, therefore, imparts the ter¬ minations of itself which are prior to this visible sun, to this sun ; and causes it through itself as a medium to be conjoined to intellect, becoming as it were an interpreter of the things derived from in¬ tellect to the sun, and also of those which revert from the sun to intellect, so far as the former recurs ^49 through soul to the latter. For no one thing is very remote from another ; and yet again, it is re^ mote through difference and mixture. But every thing [in the intellectual region] is in itself, not locally, and each is united to each, and is at the same time separate from each. These, however, [i. e. the mundane spheres] are Gods, because they are never deserted by intellect and soul ; and are suspended from the primordial soul, which is as it were departing [from mundane natures]. These, therefore, so far as they are what they are, and so far as they are said to look to intellect [are divine] ; the vision of soul itself being directed no where else than to intellect.1 XII. The souls of men, however, beholding the images of themselves, like that of Bacchus in a mirror,* were from thence impelled to descend i 1 The latter part of this sentence in the original is as fol¬ lows ; ovhafiov ψυχής αυτής η σώματος €Κ€ΐ βΧεπονσης ; but both the sense and the version of Ficinus require that the word σώματος should be expunged. % The meaning of what is here said by Plotinus, will be illustrated by the following remarkable passage from the MS* Commentary of Olympiodorus On the Phaedo. “ In order, ’* (says he) “ to the soul's descent, it is necessary that she should 350 yet were not cut off from their principle and from intellect. For they did not descend in conjunction with intellect, but proceeded as far as to the earth, their heads being at the same time established above the heavens. It happened, however* that their descent was more extended, because that which subsists in them as a medium, is compelled to exercise a guardian care, in consequence of the first establish an image of herself in the body ; and in the second place, that she should sympathize with the image according to a similitude of form. For every form hastens into a sameness with itself, through an innate convergency to itself. In the third place, becoming situated in a divisible nature, it is necessary that she should be lacerated and scat¬ tered together with such a nature, and that she should fall into an ultimate distribution, till through a cathartic life, she raises herself from the extreme dispersion, loosens the bond of sym¬ pathy through which she is united to the body, and energizing without the image, becomes established according to her pri¬ mary life. And we may behold a resemblance of all this, in the fable respecting Bacchus the paradigm of our intellect. For it is said that Dionysius, establishing his image in a mirror, pursued it, and thus became distributed into the universe. But Apollo excited and elevated Bacchus, this God being a cathartic deity, and the true saviour of Dionysius. And on this account he is celebrated as Dionysoter. (διοννσωτηρ, for so it is requisite to read, and not δίονυσοπ?*.)” See more on this subject in the second edition of my treatise, On the Eleu- sinian and Bacchic Mysteries, in Number l6 of the Pam¬ phleteer, for Nov. 1816. 351 nature into which it arrives requiring solicitous attention. But the father Jupiter, commiserating laborious souls, made the bonds about which they labour mortal, causing them to have periodical ces¬ sations of their toil, and a liberation from body, that they also may become situated there where the soul of the universe always resides, without any conversion to these inferior realms. For what the world now possesses is sufficient to it, and will be perpetually through all the following revolutions and periodic restitutions of time, and this esta¬ blished in measures of definite lives, in which these are led to an harmonious agreement with those. At the same time, likewise, all things are arranged by one reason, with reference to die ascent and descent of souls, and every other particular. The symphony , however , of souls with the order of the universe , which nevertheless are not suspended from the universe , hut co-adapt themselves in their de¬ scent, and make one concord with the mundane cir¬ culation , is testified by this , that their fortunes , lives, and deliberate elections , are signified by the figures of the stars . That the universe, likewise, utters as it were one voice harmonically and aptly, 352 is asserted by the ancients more than any thing else, though obscurely. But this would not be the case, unless the universe was both active and pas¬ sive through its participation of intellectual forms, in the measures of its periods, orders, and lives ; souls evolving themselves according to the genera of discursive progressions, at one time in the intel¬ ligible world, at another in the heavens, and at another being converted to these inferior realms. Every intellect, however, is always in the intelligb ble world, and never departing from its own proper habitation, but established on high, sends through soul these objects of sensible inspection. But soul from its proximity to intellect, is in a greater de¬ gree disposed according to the form which flourishes there, and to some of the natures posterior to itself imparts a sameness of subsistence, but. to others a subsistence which is different at different times, and a wandering which proceeds in an orderly course. Souls, however, do not always equally descend, but sometimes more, and at other times less, though they may belong to the same genus. But each soul descends to that which is prepared for its reception, according to similitude of disposi- 355 lion. For it tends to that to which it has become r · r ' » similar ; one soul indeed to iman, but another to some other animal. ; . . l, ,·'··■- . ^ · . ( .· XIII. For justice, which is said to be inevita¬ ble, subsists in such a manner in a ruling nature, that every thing proceeds in that order with refer* ence to which it was generated an image of arche¬ typal pre-election and disposition. And that whole form of the soul, is similar to that to which it has in itself a disposition, and which then sends and introduces it where it is proper for it to be situated ; not that it may then descend into body, or into this particular body ; but that when the prescribed period arrives, souls may as it were spontaneously descend, and enter into that receptacle in which it is necessary for them to reside. A different souh also, has a different time of descent; which when it arrives, souls descend, as if called by a cryer# enter into an appropriate body, and are similarly affected with those who are moved and borne along by the powers and strong attractions of magicians. resemble the administration which takes place in one animal, which moves each in a certain time, and generates hair, the beard, and the Plot. Z 354 nature of horns, and now impels them to, and causes them to be efflorescent in things of this kind, which they did not possess before. They are also similar to the administration in the growth of trees which vegetate in orderly pre-established periods of time. Souls, however, proceed neither voluntarily, nor from compulsion. For that which is voluntary in them [when they descend] is not as if it were deli¬ berate choice, but resembles a physical leaping, or the natural tendencies to wedlock, or the impulses to certain beautiful actions, to which we are not excited by a reasoning process. A certain parti¬ cular thing, however, is always accompanied with a certain destiny. And to this thing the present time, but to another the future pertains, [as to the • . accomplishment of the decrees of fate]. The des¬ tiny, indeed, of the intellect which is prior to the world, is to remain in the intelligible region, and from thence to impart something [to the sensible universe]. And particulars, falling under the uni¬ versal law, are from thence sent hither. For in each, that which is universal is inherent. This law, also, does not receive its perfective power exter¬ nally, but is imparted so as to be in the natures that use it, and to be carried about with them. When 355 the time, likewise* arrives [which the law decreed]* then that is effected which it wished to be effected* by those who possess this law. Hence, they them¬ selves accomplish the law which surrounds them* and becomes strong through being established in them ; oppressing them as it were with its wreight* and producing in them a promptitude and veher merit desire of arriving at that place, to which the law within them announces they should come. XIV* These things* therefore* thus subsisting, this world having many lights* and being illustrated by souls* Is adorned by other prior worlds* deriving a different gift from a different world ; both from those Gods themselves, and from other intellects* through whom souls are imparted to the universe· And it is probable* that this is obscurely indicated by the fable, in which it is said that Prometheus having fashioned a woman* the other Gods also contributed to her embellishment. It is likewise said, that he mingled earth with water* and inserted the human voice ; that he gave her a form resem¬ bling that of the Goddesses ; that Venus and the Graces imparted something to her; and that a different divinity bestowed on her a different gift And lastly, that from the gift, and all the givers, she was called Pandora. 1 For all the Gods gave something to this figment, which was produced by a certain providence.1 But what else is signified E The recondite meaning of this fable, is thus beautifully unfolded· by Olympiodorus in his MS. Scholia, On the Gor- gias of Plato : “ Prometheus is the inspective guardian of the descent of rational souls : for to exert a providential energy is the employment of the rational soul, and prior to any thing else to know itself. Irrational natures, indeed, perceive through percussion, and prior to impulsion know nothing; but the rational nature is able, prior to information from ano¬ ther, to know what is useful. Hence, Epimetheus is the in¬ spective guardian of the irrational soul, because it knows .... , . i t * r through percussion, and not prior to it. Prometheus, there¬ fore, is that power which presides over the descent of rational souls. But the fire which he stole from heaven, signifies the rational soul itself ; because as fire tends upward, so the ra¬ tional soul pursues things on high. But you will say, why is this fire said to have been stolen ? I answer, that which is stolen is transferred from its proper place to one that is foreign. Since, therefore, the rational soul is sent from its proper place of abode on high, to earth as to a foreign region, on this account the fire is said to be stolen. But why was it con- ' » * * · ^ r *. . cealed in a reed ? Because a reed is cavernous, and therefore signifies the fluid body in which the soul is carried. Why, however, was the fire stolen, contrary to the will of Jupiter? - , ·' r* t ■ ■' .. - * · ' Again, the fable speaks as a fable. For both Prometheus and Jupiter are willing that the soul should abide on high ; but as it is requisite that she should descend, the fable fabricates par^· ticulars accommodated to the persons. And it represents, in· .** r*4*' f deed, tt*c superior character, which is Jupiter, as unwilling ; 857 by Prometheus warning his brother Epimetbeus, not to accept the gift4 [Pandora], than that the choice of that which is in the intelligible, is more excellent [than of that which is in the sensible world ?] The maker, however, Prometheus, was afterwards bound, because in a certain respect he comes into contact with the thing generated by for he wishes the soul always to abide on high : but .the jnfe» rior character, Prometheus, obliges her to descend, Jupiter, therefore, ordered Pandora to be made9 And what else is this than the irrational soult which is of a feminine characteristic f For as it was necessary that the soul should descend to these lower regions, but being incorporeal and divine, it was impos¬ sible for her to be conjoined with body without a medium ; hence she becomes united with it through the irrational souL But this irrational soul was called Pandora, because each of the Gods bestowed on it some particular gift» And this signi·» iies that the illuminations which terrestrial natures receive, take place through the celestial bodies/* 3 a Fieinus, in what is here said of Prometheus, appears to have entirely mistaken the meaning of Plotinus, and also not to have attended to what is asserted in the fable itself. For the translation of Ficinus is : “ Quod a lit, cm Epimetbeus ei donum dederit nullum/* But the Greek is : o Se π γομηθεν$ €ΐ7τοποιονμςνο$ το Βωρον αυτόν & See the Works and Days of Hesiod. s For the irrational soul is an immaterial bodyr or in other words, vitalized extension , inch as the mathematical bodies which we frame in the phantasy or imagination ; and the celestial bodies are of /this·· kind, „ 358 him. A bond, also* of this kind is external, and the solution of it is by Hercules ; because he possesses a liberating power* Of these things, however, any one may form whatever opinion he pleases* But it is evident that the gifts imparted to the world are indicated by this fable, and that it accords with what has been before said. XV. Souls, therefore, fall from the intelligible world, in the first place indeed, into the heavens, and there receiving a body, they now proceed through it into more terrene bodies, so far as their progressions are more extended in length. And some of them indeed, proceed from the heavens into inferior bodies, but others pass from certain bodies into others ; these being such as have not a power sufficient to raise themselves from hence, on account of the great weight and oblivion which they have attracted, and which draw them downward by their oppressive influence. But souls become different from each other, either through the diver¬ sity into which they are introduced, or through the difference of their fortunes and educations ; or again, they have a difference from themselves ; or they differ in all these respects, or in some of them. 359 And some of them, indeed, entirely fall under the dominion of the fate which is here ; but others, at one time are subject to fate, and at another are dependent only on themselves* Others again grant that such things as are necessary must indeed be endured, but that such things as are their own works belong to themselves, and that living accord» ing to another legislation which comprehends in itself all beings, they give themselves to another more sacred law* This legislation, however, is a contexture consisting of all the reasons and causes that are here, of psychical motions and the laws derived from thence· It also accords with these, thence receives its principles, and weaves together with them whatever is of a consequent nature· And such things indeed, as are able to save them¬ selves according to their proper habit, it preserves unshaken ; but it conducts other things to that con¬ dition of being to which they are naturally adapted, so as to be the cause in their descent of the different situations of different things. « XVI. The punishments, therefore, which are inflicted with justice on the wicked, it is proper to refer to the order which leads every thing in a be- coming manner. Such things* however, as happen to the good without justice, as punishments, or poverty, or disease, may be said to take place through offences committed in a former life. For these things are woven together, and are pre-signi- fied, so that they are also produced according to 1 reason. Or shall we say that these are not effected according to physical reasons, nor to he ranked among things which have a precedaneous subsist¬ ence* but among such as are consequent to them ? As if some edifice should fall, the animal upon which it falls would be killed, whatever it might be. Or as if two certain things moving with an orderly motion, or even one thing thus moving, that which happens to fall at the time, should be broken or trampled on. Or it may be said, that this un¬ just circumstance is not an evil to him who suffers it, and is useful to the connexion of the whole of things. Or that neither is it unjust, things having a just retribution from antecedent transactions. For it is not proper to think that some things are co-ordinated, but that others are to be referred to the impulse of arbitrary will. For if it is necessary that things should be generated according to causes and physical consequences, and according to one 361 reason and one order, it is also necessary to think that the smallest things are co-ordinated, and woven together. Hence the unjust conduct of one man towards another, is indeed unjust to the doer, and the agent is not without blame, yet being co-ordi¬ nated in the universe, it is not unjust with reference to it, nor to him who suffers the injury, but it was thus fit that it should take place. But if he who is injured is a worthy man, the end of these things is good to him.® For it is necessary to think, that this co-ordination of things is not without divinity, and is not unjust, but is accurate in the retribution of that which is appropriate ; but that it has im ma¬ nifest causes, and on this account is the occasion of j . ' - - blame to the ignorant. XVII. That souls, however, first descend from < Conformably to this, it is divinely said by Plato in the Republic : u Whatever comes from the Gods to the man who is beloved by the Gods, will all be the best possible, unless he has some necessary ill from former miscarriage. Hence, if the just man happens to be in poverty, or disease, or in any other of those seeming evils, these things issue t© him in some» thing good either whilst alive or dead. For never at any time is he neglected by the Gods, who inclines earnestly to endea¬ vour to become just, and practises virtue, as far as it is pos·» sible for man to^resemble God.” 562 the intelligible into the heavens, may be rationally inferred from the following considerations. If the heaven is in the sensible place that which is most excellent, it will be proximate to the extremities of intelligibles. Hence, the celestial bodies are first animated from thence, and participate of them, as being more adapted to participation. But a ter¬ restrial body is the last of bodies, is naturally adapted to participate of soul in a less degree, and is more remote from an incorporeal nature. All the celestial souls indeed illuminate heaven, and impart as it were much of themselves, and the first procession from themselves to it, but other things become fulgid through posterior natures. The souls, however, which descend below the heavens, illuminate another inferior nature, but their condi¬ tion is not ameliorated by proceeding to a greater extent. For there is something which is as it were a centre ; but after this is a circle shining from the centre ; and after this, another circle, which is a light emanating from a light. External to these, however, there is no longer another circle of light, but that which is posterior to them is indigent of its proper light, through the want of a foreign splendor. But let this be a rhombus, or rather a 363 sphere, of such a kind as to participate of the second of these circles, to which it is the next in order, and through proximity to which it becomes resplendent. The great light, therefore, [i. e. in¬ tellect] illuminates abiding, and the light which emanates from it proceeds according to [or is cha¬ racterized by] ’reason. But the other things co¬ illuminate, some indeed abiding, but others being abundantly attracted by the splendor of that which is illuminated. In the next place, since the illu¬ minated natures require much guardian attention, like ships in a storm at sea, the pilots of which incessantly watch over them, and neglecting their own concerns, forget that they are frequently in danger of perishing together with the ships ; thus also these souls are abundantly hurried away from their own concerns, and afterwards are detained in the bonds of enchantment, being held in durance through their attention to nature. But if each animal was such as the universe, having a body suf¬ ficient and perfect, and free from the danger of passivity, in this case, the soul which is said to be present with body, would not be present with it, but entirely abiding on high would impart life to the body [which is suspended from it]. 364 XVIIL Again, shall we say that the soul em¬ ployed the discursive energy of reason, before she came into body, and will also after her departure from it ? Or shall we say that a reasoning process is employed by her here, in consequence of her \ being involved in doubt and filled with care, through which she becomes debilitated in a greater degree ? For through a diminution of intellect, she requires the discursive energy of reason in order to be suffi¬ cient to herself; just as reasoning is requisite in the arts, through the artists being involved in doubts. But when there is no difficulty, then art subdues [its subject matter] and operates. If, however, souls live in the intelligible world without reasoning, how can they be any longer rational? In answer to this, it may be said, that they are still rational, because they are able to employ a reason¬ ing process whenever circumstances render it ne¬ cessary. It is necessary, however, to assume a ratiocination of this kind ; since if some one should consider the discursive energy of reason as a dispo¬ sition always subsisting from intellect in souls, and a stable energy which is as it were an evolution of intellectual light, and if in the intelligible souls also use the reasoning power, yet as it appears to me, 365 we must not think that voice is employed by them there, so -long as they entirely subsist in the intel¬ ligible world. But when they have bodies in the heavens, theydo not use the dialect which they em¬ ploy here through indigence or ambiguity ; but performing every thing in an orderly manner, and according to nature, they neither command any thing to be done, nor consult about it. They also mutually know the objects of their knowledge through a consciousness of perception ; since even here likewise we know many things through the eyes, pertaining to those that are silent. There , however, every body is pure , and each inhabitant is as it were an eye . Nothing likewise is there con¬ cealed, or fictitious, but before one can speak to another, the latter knows what the former intended to say. But there is no absurdity in admitting that daemons and souls that dwell in the air use voice ; for such as these are animals. XIX. Shall we however say that the impartible and partible, are to b& considered according to the same thing [in the soul,] as if they were mingled to¬ gether; or that the impartible is to be assumed according to one thing, but the partible as some·? 366 thing successive, and another part of the soul? Just as we say the rational part is one thing, but the irrational another. This, however, will be known, when w'e have explained what we say each of these is. The impartible, therefore, is simply as¬ sumed by Plato, but the partible not simply ; [for he says that the soul is a medium between an essence impartible] and an essence which is divi¬ sible about bodies, and that the soul is not on this account generated. It is requisite, therefore, to consider after what manner the nature of body is indigent of soul for the purposes of living ; and to see that it is necessary the soul should every where be present with the body, and also with the whole of it. Every sensitive power indeed, if it perceives through the whole body, arrives at the whole by being divided. For being every where in the body, it may be said to be divided ; but appearing every where a whole, it may be said that it is not entirely distributed into parts ; but that it becomes partible about bodies. If, however, some one should say that the soul is not divided in the other senses, but in the touch alone, to this we reply, that the soul is also divided in the other senses, since it is the body which receives it, but that it is less divided than in 367 the touch. The physical and augmentative powers also of the soul, are divided in a similar manner. And if desire dwells about the liver, but anger about the heart, the same thing must also be assert* ed of these. Perhaps however, these were not as¬ sumed in that mixture ; or perhaps they were as¬ sumed, but after another manner, and these were produced from some one of the assumed parti¬ culars. But the reasoning power and intellect, do not give themselves to body ; for their work is not effected through corporeal instruments ; since these are an impediment when they are employed in contemplations. Hence the impartible is diffe¬ rent from the partible, and they are not mingled as one thing, but as a whole consisting of parts, each of which is pure, and separate in power. If, how» ever, that which becomes partible about bodies^ has the impartible from a more sublime power, this very same thing may be both impartible and parti- ble, as being mingled from the partible, and the power which proceeds into it from on high. XX. It is requisite, however, to consider whe¬ ther these, and what are called the other parts of the soul are in place, or these in short are not, but the other parts are,, and if they are where they are^ 368 or whether none of them is in place. For if we do not assign a certain place to the several parts of the soul, but admit that each of them is no where, and thus make them to be no more within, than without the body, we shall render the body inanimate, and shall not be able to show how those works are effected which are performed through the corporeal organs. Or if we admit that some of the parts of the soul are in place, but others not, we shall not appear to grant those parts to be in us which we exclude from place, so that neither shall we admit Λ that the whole of our soul is in us. In short, there* fore, we must neither assert that any one of the parts of the soul, nor that the whole of it is in body. For place is that which comprehends, and is com· prehensive of body ; and where each thing is that is divided, there it is situated in such a way that the whole is not in any thing indiscriminately. Soul, however, is not body, and is not rather that which is comprehended than that which compre¬ hends. Nor yet is it in body as in a vessel ; for if it were, the body would become inanimate, whe¬ ther it comprehended the soul as a vessel, "or as place ; unless it should be said that the soul is col¬ lected in itself, and by a certain distribution trans¬ mits something of itself into its vessel the body, and thus as much as the vessel participates* so much will be taken away from the soul. Place* however, properly so called* is incorporeal, and not body. So that in what will it be indigent of soul ? Body also, not by itself, but by the boundary of * itself, will approximate to soul. Many other ob- jections, likewise, may be urged against him who asserts that soul is in place. For place will always be co-introduced with soul ; and [it may still be asked] what will that be which introduces together with itself place ? If place also is interval, much less will soul be in the body as in place. For it is necessary, that interval should be a vacuum. Body, however, is not a vacuum, but perhaps that will be a vacuum in which body is ; so that body will be in a vacuum. Moreover, neither will soul be in the body as in a subject. For that which is in a subject, is a passion of that in which it is, as colour and figure. But soul is separable from the body. Nor yet, is soul ip the body, as a part in the whole : for soul is not a part of the body. But if some one should say that soul is a part as in the whole animal, in the first place indeed, the same doubt will remain how it is in the whole. For it * # is not proper to conceive that it subsists either as Plot. 2 A 370 .wine in a vessel of wine, or as a vessel in a vessel y nor in the same manner as a thing is in itself. Nor again, will it be in body as a whole in the parts. For it is ridiculous to say that the soul is a whole; but the body parts. Neither is it as form in matter : for the form which is in matter, is inse¬ parable from matter. And matter now existing, form afterwards accedes to it. But soul produces the form in matter, being itself something different from material form. If, however, it should be said that soul is not a generated, but a separate form, it will not yet be manifest how this form is in body ; and soul will be separate from body. How then is it said by all men, that the soul is in the body ? Shall wre say it is because not the soul but the body is visible ? Perceiving therefore the body, and con¬ ceiving it to be animated because it is moved and has sensible perception, we say that the body has the soul. Hence, therefore, we say that the soul is in the body. If, however, the soul were visible and sensible, so as to be perceived to be full of life* to comprehend entirely the body in life, and to ex¬ tend itself equally to the extremities of it, we should no longer say that the soul is in the body, but that in the more principal nature that which is not such 371 subsists, in that which contains, the thing contained, and that which flows in that which does not flow* i XXI. What then shall we say, if some one should ask us how the soul is present with the body, without giving us any information himself on the subject ? And also if he should ask us whether the whole soul is similarly present, or a different part is differently present with the body ? Since, therefore, none of the above-mentioned modes of the subsistence of one thing in another1 is adapted to the subsistence of the soul in the body ; but the soul is said to be in the body in such a way as the pilot in a ship, this is well said so far as pertains to the power by which the soul is able to separate itself from the body ; yet it does not entirely exhi¬ bit to us the mode which we are now investigating. For the pilot, so far as he is a sailor, will be from accident a pilot in the ship. But if the soul is present with the body in the same manner as the pilot alone with the ship, how is this effected ? For % the pilot is not in all the ship, in the same manner as the soul is in all the body. Shall we, therefore, I · . * J 1 V ’■ · * ’ * * And these modes are enumerated by Aristotle in his Physics. ’ say, that the soul is in the body, in the same way as art is in the instruments of art ? For instance, as aft in the rudder, if the rudder was animated, so that the piloting art is within it, moving it artifi¬ cially. Now, however, there is this difference be¬ tween the two, that art operates externally. If* therefore, we admit that the soul is in the body, Conformably to the paradigm of the pilot within the rudder, as in a natural instrument ; for he thus will move it, in whatever he wishes to effect ; shall we make any accession to the object of our investi¬ gation ? Or shall we again be dubious how the soul is in the instrument ? And though this mode is dif¬ ferent from the former modes, yet we still desire to discover [something farther], and to accede still nearer to the thing proposed* XXII. Shall we therefore say, that when the •j * soul is present with the body, it is present in the same manner as light is with the air ? For again, this when present is [in reality] not present. And being present through the whole, is mingled with bo part of it. It is also itself permanent, but the air flows by it. And when the air becomes situated out of that in which there is light, it departs po§- 37 3 messing nothing luminous ; but as long as it is under the light, it is illuminated. Hence, here also, it may be rightly said, that air is in light, rather'than light in air. On this account, likewise, Plato [in the Timceus] does not place soul in the ✓ body of the universe, but the body of the universe in soul. And he says, that there is something of soul in which body is contained, and also some» thing in which there is nothing of body ; meaning by the latter those powers of the soul, of which the body is not indigent. The same thing, likewise, must be said of other souls. Hence, we must assert, that the other powers of the soul are not present with the body ; but that those powers are present with it of which it is indigent ; and that they are present, without being established either in the parts, or in the whole of the body. W e must also say, that for the purpose of sensation in¬ deed, the sensitive power is present with the w hole of the sentient [organ] ; but that with respect to energies, a different energy is present with a dif¬ ferent part of the body. But my meaning is as follows : XXIII. Since the animated body is illuminated 374 by the soul, a different part of the body differently participates of it ; and the power fitted to effect a certain work, is denominated according to the apti¬ tude of the organ to the work. Thus the power in the eves is denominated visive, in the ears acoustic, in the tongue gustic, and in the nostrils olfactive ; but we say that the power of the touch is present with the whole body. For in order to effect this perception, the whole body is present as an instru¬ ment with the soul. Since, however, the instru¬ ments of the touch are in the nerves first, which \ also have the power of moving the animal, this power imparts itself from the nerves. But the nerves beginning from the brain, which is the prin¬ ciple of sense and impulse, and in short of the whole animal, as they are derived from hence to the other parts of the body, that which uses these instruments is considered as subsisting there where the principles of the instruments subsist. It is better, however, to say, that the principle of the energy of the power is there ; for from whence the instrument is to be moved, there it is requisite that the power of the artificer, which is adapted to the instrument, should be as it were firmly fixed ; or rather not the power, since power is every where. 375 But the principle of energy 5s there, where the principle of the instrument exists. Since, there¬ fore, the power of sensible perception, and the power of impulse, pertain to the sensitive soul, and the nature of the phantasy, which as being nearer to that which is beneath, have reason situated above them ; — this being the case, where this prin¬ ciple is in the supreme part, there reason w?as placed by the ancients in the summit of the whole animal, viz. in the head ; not as being [immediately] situated in the brain, but in this sensitive power, through which [as a medium] reason is established in the brain. For it is requisite to assign the sen¬ sitive power to the body, and to that which is espe¬ cially the recipient of the energy of the body. But it is necessary that the form of the soul which is able to receive apprehensions from reason, should communicate with reason which has no communi¬ cation with the body. For the sensitive power is in a certain respect judicial ; and the phantastic power is as it were intellectual. Impulse and appetite also follow the phantasy and reason. Hence the reasoning power is there, not as in place, but because that w?hich is [locally] there, enjoys this pow?er [by participation]. But how that which Is there subsists, has been shown in the sensitive power. Since, however, the vegetative, and also the augmentative and nutritive powers never fail, but each of them nourishes through the blood, and the blood which nourishes is in the veins, but the principle of the veins and the blood is in the liver, in which these powers are firmly fixed ; — this being the case, the ancients assigned this place to a portion of the epithymetic soul. For that which generates, nourishes, and increases, must neces¬ sarily desire these [viz* the veins and blood]. But as attenuated, light, acute, and pure blood, is an instrument adapted to anger, the fountain of the blood, the heart, was considered by the ancients as a fit habitation for anger. For here a blood of this kind is secreted, which is adapted to the efferves¬ cence of anger. XXIV. Souls, however, still having a body undergo corporeal punishments. But where does the soul dwell on its departure from body ? It will not indeed be here, where there is not any thing to receive it. For it is not able to abide in that which Is not naturally adapted to receive it, unless the recipient has something of an unwise and insane 377 nature which attracts the soul to it. But the soul is in such a recipient as this, if it has something besides itself ; and it there follows where this reci¬ pient is naturally adapted to be and to be generated. Since, however, each place is ample, it is necessary that a difference should be produced both from the disposition of the soul, and the justice which ha? dominion in things. For no one can ever fly from the punishment which it becomes him to suffer for 4» unjust deeds. For the divine law is inevitable, containing at once in itself the power of accom¬ plishing what it has now judged to be fit. In the mean time, he who suffers is ignorantly led to that which it is proper he should suffer, being every where in his wanderings conducted in a circuitous course 1 by an unstable motion, but at length, like one wearied by the resistance which he has made, falling into a place adapted to him, he undergoes an involuntary suffering through a voluntary mo¬ tion. In the law, however, it is promulgated how much and how long it is necessary to suffer. And again, at the same time a remission of punishment 1 Instead of αιωρονμενος in this place, it appears from the version of Ficinus, that we should read xeptayouevor. And indeed, the sense of the passage requires this emendation. 378 concurs with the power of flying from those places [in which the punishment is inflicted] through a power of harmony by which all things are detained. But to souls that have bodies, it also pertains to undergo corporeal punishments. Souls, however, that are pure, and attract nothing whatever to themselves of body, are also necessarily unconfined by the body. If \ therefore , they are not at all in body , for neither ham they a body , they are there where essence and beings and that which is divine , subsist, viz . in God . Hence, a soul of this kind will he here, and together with these, and in deity. If, however, you still inquire where it will be, you must also inquire where they are. But in explor¬ ing this, do not explore it with the eyes, nor as if you were investigating bodies. XXV. With respeet to memory, it must be considered whether souls on departing from these places recollect [what happened to them on the earth] ; or whether this is the case with some souls, but not with others ; and likewise, whether they have a recollection of all things, or of certain things only. And in a similar manner, it deserves to be, investigated whether they always remember, or for 379 a certain time near to their departure from hence. If, however, we intend to investigate these things rightly, what that is which remembers must be first assumed. I do not mean that we must inquire what memory is, but what that is in which it is naturally adapted to subsist. For we have else¬ where shown what memory * is, and it has been frequently mentioned ; but it must now be more accurately assumed what that is which is naturally 4 adapted to remember. If, therefore, the power of memory is something adventitious, or something belonging to discipline or passion, remembrance will not happen to beings which are impassive and superior to time. Hence, memory must not be placed in deity, or in being, or intellect. For to these nothing accedes ; nor does time, but eternity subsist about being. Nor is either temporal prio^ rity or that which is successive there ; but each of these always subsists as it is, in sameness, receiving no mutation. How, therefore, can that which is in the same and the similar be in want of memory ? For it is not at all disposed in futurity in a way 1 Memory is summarily, stability of knowledge ; just as immortality is stability of life, and eternity is stability of being. 380 different from what it was before ; nor has it one intelligence after another, in order that it may abide in another, or that it may remember another intellection which it formerly possessed. But what prevents it from knowing the mutations of other things, without being changed itself, such as the periods of the world ? Shall we say it is because it intellectually perceives one thing as prior, but ano¬ ther as posterior which is consequent to the muta¬ tions of that which is convolved ? Besides, remem¬ brance is different from intellectual perception : and it must not be said that the intellection of it¬ self is recollection. For it does not proceed in its energy for the purpose of detaining it, lest it should depart ; for thus it might fear lest the essence of itself should depart from itself. Neither, there¬ fore, must it be said that soul remembers after the same manner, as we say it recollects those things which it innately possesses. But having descended hither, it possesses these innate conceptions, yet does not [always] energize according to them, and especially when it has profoundly descended into body. The ancients, however, appear to have considered memory and reminiscence to be the same thing as for the soul to energize according to 381 those things which it now possesses ; so that this is another species of memory. Hence, time is not present with memory thus denominated. Perhaps, however, these things are considered by us lightly, and not accurately. For perhaps it may be doubted, whether memory and reminiscence belong to such a soul as this [which we are now considering] or whether they do not rather pertain to another more obscure soul, or to this animal which is a compo¬ site of soul and body. And if they belong to another soul, it may also be doubted when and how it received what it recollects ; and a similar doubt will arise if they are said to pertain to the composite of soul and body. Hence, that must be investigated which was the subject of our inquiry from the first, what that is which possesses in us the power of remembering. And if, indeed, it is the soul which remembers, it must be considered what part or power of the soul it is ; but if it is the sentient power, as to some it has appeared to be, what the mode is of its subsistence must be investigated, and what ought to be called the ani- maL And again, whether it is proper to admit that the same thing apprehends both sensibles and 382 intelligibles, or that one thing perceives the former* but another the latter of these. XXYI. If, therefore, the animal is both at one and the same time in the senses according to energy, it is also necessary that sensible perception should be a thing of this kind. Hence* likewise* it is said to be common, in the same manner as to bore with an auger and to weave ; in order that soul may subsist conformably to the artificer, in * sensible perception, but the body according to the instrument ; the body indeed suffering and being ministrant, but the soul receiving the impression of the body* or that which is effected through the body. Or the soul must receive the judgment arising from the passion of the body ; where, in¬ deed, sense may thus be said to be the common work, but memory will not be compelled to pertain to that which is common, the soul now receiving the impression, and either preserving or ejecting it ; unless some one should infer that remembrance also is something common, because we acquire a good memory, and likewise beeome forgetful from the temperaments of the body. It may also be 383 said, that the body either impedes or does not im¬ pede reminiscence, but that remembrance will nevertheless be the province of the soul. And with respect to disciplines, how will the remem¬ brance of these pertain to that which is common [or to the animal which is the composite of soul and body], and not rather belong to the soul ? But if the animal is both at once in such a way that another thing is produced from both, in the first place indeed, it will be absurd to say that the animal is neither body nor soul. For both being changed, the animal will not be something different from both ; nor again, both being mingled, will the soul be in the animal in capacity only ; though even in this case, remembrance will nevertheless belong to the soul. Just as in the mixture of honey with wine, if there is still something of sweetness in it, this will be derived from the honey. What then, if it should be said that the soul indeed herself remember^, yet in consequence of being in the body, and therefore not being pure, but as it were affected with quality, she is able to impress in the body the types of sensibles, and to establish as it were a seat in it, for the purpose of receiving forms, and preventing them from gliding away? 384 To this we reply, in the first place indeed, these types are not magnitudes ; nor in the second place, are they like impressions from a seal, or resistances, or figurations, because neither is there any impul¬ sion there, nor does the same thing take place as in wax ; but the mode even in sensibles resembles that of intellection. In intellection, however, what resistance can there be ? Or what need is there of body, or corporeal quality in intellectual energy ? Moreover, it is necessary that soul should remem¬ ber its own motions, such as its tendencies to the objects of its desire, and to things which it has not obtained, and which have not arrived at the body. For how could the body speak of things which have not arrived to it ? Or how can the soul recol¬ lect in conjunction with body, that which the body is not at all naturally adapted to know? But it must be said, indeed, that some things end in the soul ; and these are such as enter through the body ; but that others pertain to the soul alone, if it is necessary that the soul should be something, Λ and that there is a certain nature and work of it If, however, this he the case, and it desires, and remembers its desire, it will also remember the attainment, or non-attainment of the object of its 385 desire, since its nature does not rank among things of a flowing condition. For if this is not admitted, we must neither grant that it has a co~ sensation, nor a power of following the conceptions of intel¬ lect, nor a certain conspiration, and as it were con¬ sciousness of itself. For unless the soul naturally possessed these things, it would not obtain them through its union with the body ; but it would in¬ deed have certain energies, the works of which wmuld require the assistance of corporeal organs ; and of some things it would bring with itself the powers ; but of others it wmuld also bring the ener¬ gies. With respect to memory, however, the body is an impediment to it ; since even now also oblL vion is produced from the addition of certain things ; but through ablation and purification, memory fre¬ quently emerges. When the soul, therefore, is alone, it is necessary that the moveable and flowing nature of the body, should be the cause of oblivion and not of memory. Hence, also, body may he understood to be the river of Lethe. Let, there¬ fore, this passion [i. e. memory] belong to the soul. XXV II. To what soul, however, does memory pertain ? Does it belong to that more divine sou! Plot . £ B 386 according to which we subsist, or to the other which we derive from the universe ? May wre not say, that memory pertains to each of these ; but that one kind of memory is peculiar, and another common ? and that when they are conjoined, all the species of memory subsist at once ; but that when they are separated, if both should exist and remain, each soul will preserve for a long time the remembrance of things pertaining to itself, but for a short time the recollection of things foreign to its nature ? The image, therefore, of Hercules, is in Hades.1 For it appears to me requisite to think, that this image has a recollection of every thing that has been transacted in life. lor to this image 4 life especially pertained. Other souls, however, being both these together, have nothing more to say than what pertains to this life, and in consequence of being the composite of soul and body, know the concerns of the present state of existence, or besides this, something belonging to justice. But we have not yet shown what Hercules himself, who is with¬ out the image, will say. What, therefore, will the other soul say that is liberated and alone ? For the 1 i. e. The irrational, which is the image of the rational soul, is in the obscurity of the sensible life. 387 soul, indeed, which is attracted by body, will recol¬ lect every thing which the man did or suffered [in the present life]. In the course of time, however, after death, the recollection of other things also from former lives will arise, so that some of these will be dismissed and despised. For the soul be¬ coming in a greater degree purified from the body, will recollect those things, the remembrance of which she had lost in the present life. But wrhen she becomes situated in another body, she will then indeed departing [from an intellectual] speak of the concerns of an external life. She will, likewise, speak of the things w'hich she has just left, and also of many things pertaining to a superior life. But as many adventitious circumstances will arise in the course of time, she will always be oppressed with oblivion. What, however, will the soul which becomes alone remember ? Or should we not first consider to what power of the soul remembrance belongs ? XXVIII. Do we, therefore, remember through the powers by wdiich we perceive sensibly and learn ? Or do we remember the objects of desire through the powTer by which we desire, and the objects of anger through the irascible power? For it may be said, that it is not one thing which en¬ joys, and another which remembers what that thing enjoyed. The epithymetic power, therefore, is again moved through memory to the objects which it once enjoyed, when they present themselves to its view. For why is it not moved by another object, or not after the same manner ? What hin¬ ders us, therefore, from granting to it a sensation of things of this kind? And why may we not, therefore, attribute desire to the sensitive power, and this in every respect, so that every thing may be named according to that which predominates ? Or shall we say, that we ascribe sense to each thing in a different manner ? Thus, for instance, it is sight indeed that perceives, and not the power which desires. But the power which desires is moved by sense, as it were in succession ; yet not in such a way as that sense can tell what the quality is of the desire, but so as to suffer without perceiving what it is. Thus also with respect to anger, sight sees the author of the injury, but anger rises in opposition to the injurer ; just as when a shepherd sees a wolf among his flock, the dog, though lie does not himself see the wolf, yet is SS9 \ excited by impulse, or by the noise [which this cir¬ cumstance produces]. For the power, indeed, which desires, possesses in itself a vestige of what it formerly enjoyed, not as memory, but as a dis¬ position and passion. But it is another thing which perceives the enjoyment, and possesses in itself the remembrance of what has been done. That it is so, however, this is an argument, that memory frequently does not know what the things are of which desire participates, though they still reside in it. XXIX. Shall we, therefore, ascribe memory to the sensitive power, and will the sensitive power be the same thing with us as that which remem¬ bers ? If, however, the image of the soul remenir bers, as we have said, the sensitive power will be twOfold. And if the sensitive power does not re¬ member, but something else, this something else will have the power of remembering in a twofold respect. Farther still, if the sensitive power is capable of apprehending disciplines, it will also apprehend the objects of the dianoetic power, [i. e. the discursive power of reason], or something else will apprehend the objects of each of these. Shalt 390 we, therefore, by admitting that the power which apprehends is common, attribute to it the remem¬ brance of both these ? If, however, one and the same thing apprehended sensibles and intelligibles, something to the purpose would perhaps be asserted. But if it is divided in a twofold respect, there will nevertheless be two things. And if we ascribe both to each soul, four things will be pro¬ duced. In short, what necessity is there that we * should remember through the same power by which we perceive, and that both sensible perception and recollection should be effected by the same pow'er, and also that we should remember dianoetic ob¬ jects through the power by w?hich we energize dia= noetically ? For the same persons do not excel in dianoetically energizing and remembering, and those whose sensible perceptions are equally acute, do not remember equalty. Some also excel in sensible perception, but others in memory whose sensations are not acute. Again, however, if each is different, it will be requisite that the power also should be different which remembers what sense had before perceived, and it will be necessary to perceive that which it is requisite to remember. Or may wo not say that nothing hinders a sensible 391 perception from being a phantasm to him who re» members, and that memory and retention may belong to the power of the phantasy, which is some¬ thing different from memory. For it is this power in w hich sense ends ; and when sense no longer energizes, the sensible spectacle is present with the phantastic power. If, therefore, the imagination of an absent object is present with this, it will now remember it. And if it remains, indeed, but for a little time, the remembrance will be little ; but if for a long time the remembrance will be greater* in consequence of this povrer being stronger, so that not being easily perverted, it will not be com¬ pelled to lose its remembrance. Memory, there¬ fore, belongs to the power of the phantasy, and to remember will consist of things of this kind. We say, however, that souls are differently disposed with respect to memory, either through differently possessing the powers of it, or by frequently or not frequently exercising it ; or by corporeal tempera¬ ments being or not being inherent, and producing or not producing a change in quality, and causing as it were perturbation. These things, however, must be elsewdiere discussed. 392 XXX, What, however, shall we say of the conceptions of the dianoetic power? Does the phantastic power pertain also to these ? If, indeed, imagination followed every intellection, perhaps this imagination remaining, and being as it were an image of the dianoetic conception, there will thus be a remembrance of the thing known ; but if not, something else must be investigated. Perhaps, however, memory will be a reception into the phan¬ tastic power of reason following the conception. For a conception is impartible, and not yet having proceeded as it were outwardly, it latently remains within. But reason evolving and educing into the phantastic power from each conception, exhibits the conception as it were in a mirror : and thus the apprehension, permanency, and remembrance of it are effected. Hence, since the soul is always moved to intelligence, when it perceives intellec· tually, then the apprehension of what it perceives * is produced in us. For intelligence is one thing, and the apprehension of intelligence another. And we always indeed perceive intellectually, but we do not always apprehend that we do so. This, however, is because the recipient not only receives 393 intellections, but also the senses, and this alter- XXXI. If, however, memory pertains to the phantastic power, but each soul is said to remem¬ ber, there will be two powers of the phantasy. The two souls, therefore, being separate, each will possess a phantastic power. But since they are with us in the same thing, how will they be two, and in which of them will memory be ingenerated ? For if in both, there will always be twofold imagi¬ nations. For it must not be said, that the remem¬ brance of intelligihles pertains to the one, but of sensibles to the other ; since thus there will in every respect be two animals, having nothing in common with each other. If, therefore, there is memory in both what will be the difference ? In the next place, what should hinder us from knowing this ? Shall we say that we are then ignorant of the dif¬ ference, when the one powder is in "symphony with » the other ; the phantastic powers not being sepa¬ rate, but that which is the more excellent of the two prevailing, one phantasm is produced, since the one follows the other like a shadow, and is subservient to it like a less to a greater light. 394 When, however, there is a contest and dissonance between the two, then the one shines forth through itself ; but it is concealed in the other, because in short that there are two souls is concealed from us» For both coalesce in one, and the one is diffused ^ + "* I but not the other* The one, therefore, sees all things, and possesses some things indeed, proceed¬ ing from it, but dismisses others, as pertaining to the other power. Just as when we have some¬ times conversed with persons of a viler character, and afterwards betake ourselves to those who are more worthy, we remember but little of our con¬ versation with the former, but much of it with the latter. XXXII. What, however, ought we to say con¬ cerning the remembrance of friends, and children, and wives ; and also of our country, and other things which it is not absurd to recollect ? Shall we say that the image of the soul will remember each of these accompanied with passion, but that the superior soul will recollect these impassively? For passion, perhaps, was from the first in this image. And such of the passions as are of an elegant nature, are in the worthy [i. e. the superior] 395 soul* so far as it communicates with the other. It is fit, however, that the inferior soul should also desire the recollection of the energies of the other soul, and especially when it has likewise become itself elegant and worthy. But this inferior soul may from the first become better, in consequence of being disciplined by the more excellent soul. The latter, however, will gladly resign to oblivion the concerns of the former. For it may happen, that the latter soul being worthy, the former which is of an inferior nature, may be forcibly restrained by the superior soul. And in proportion as this more excellent soul hastens to the intelligible, it will forget the concerns of this world, unless the whole of its life here, has been such as to preserve the remembrance alone of things of the most exalted nature. For here also it is beautiful to abandon human pursuits : [and this is the work of perfect virtue *]. A forgetfulness, therefore, of such pursuits, is necessary in another life. Hence, he who says that the worthy soul is oblivious, will in such a way as we have mentioned speak rightly. 1 It appears from the version of Ficinus* that the words και τοντο τψ reXeias aper?j$ epyor, are wanting in the original in this place. 396 f or it will fly from the many, and will collect mul¬ titude into one, dismissing that which is infinite. For thus it will not associate with multitude, but expelling it will live bv itself : since here also, when it wishes to be in the intelligible world, while an inhabitant of earth, it dismisses all other con¬ cerns. Hence, when it is there, it remembers but few things of a terrestrial nature ; but it remem¬ bers more of them when it is in the heavens. And Hercules, indeed, [when in Hades] may speak of his own fortitude ; but in the intelligible world, he will consider these things as trifling, being trans¬ ferred into a more sacred place, and strenuously engaging even above himself, in those contests in which the wise wish to engage. OX THE GENERATION AND ORDER OF THINGS AFTER THE FIRST· I. The one is all things, and yet no one of alt For the principle of all is not all things ; but the one is all, because all things run as it were into it, or rather do not as yet exist, but will be. How, therefore, [does multitude proceed] from the one which is simple, and in which no variety, nor any duplicity present themselves to the view ? Is it be¬ cause there was nothing in it, on this account all things are from it? Hence, in order that being might exist, the one is not being, but being is the progeny of it, and as it were its first-born. For the one being perfect, in consequence of not seeking after, or possessing, or being in want of any thing, <*■ t, 398 it becomes as it were overflowing, and the super¬ plenitude of it produces something else. That, however, which is generated from it is converted to it, and is filled, and was generated looking to it. But this is intellect. And the permanency indeed of it about the one , produced being ; but its vision of the one , intellect. When, therefore, it is esta¬ blished about the one , in order that it may see it, then it becomes at once intellect and being. Hence, being in the same manner as the one produces things similar to itself, through an effusion of abun¬ dant power. Its offspring also has the form of it, in the same manner as prior to this it likewise flowed forth from the one . And this energy from essence is soul, w’hich w^as generated from intellect permanently abiding. For intellect also was gene¬ rated, that which is prior to it abiding. Soul, how¬ ever, does not produce abiding, but being moved generates an image of itself. Soul, therefore, look¬ ing thither whence it was generated, is filled. But proceeding into another and contrary motion, it generates an image of itself, viz. sense, and the nature which is in plants. Nothing, however, is r separated or cut off from that which is prior to itself. Hence, also, the soul of man is seen to 399 proceed as far as to plants. For after a certain manner it proceeds into them, because that which is in plants is derived from it. Nevertheless, the whole of the human soul is not in plants, but it is thus ingenerated in plants, because it so far proceeds into an inferior nature, having made another hypo» stasis by its progression into and propensity to that which is subordinate ; since the soul which is prior to this, being suspended from intellect, permits in¬ tellect to abide in itself. II. The procession, therefore, of these is from the principle to the extremity, each thing at the same time being always left in its proper seat. But that which is generated receives another order, which is subordinate. Nevertheless, each thing becomes the same with that which it follows, as long as it follows it. When, therefore, soul [i. e. the human soul] is ingenerated in a plant, there is one part, viz. the part which is in the plant, which is most rash and insane ; and as far as to this soul ‘ proceeds. But when the soul is in a brute,1 it is 1 “ When human souls/' says Sallust, in his golden treatise On the Gods and the World, u transmigrate into irrational animals, they follow externally, in the same manner as our 400 led by the sentient power, which then has dominion. When, however, it is ingenerated in man, then in short, either the motion is in the rational nature, or from intellect, in consequence of the soul having its proper intellect, and deriving from itself the power of intellection, or of being moved* Again, therefore, returning [whence we digressed], when some one cuts off either the germinations, or cer¬ tain branches of a plant, w hither does the soul that is in the plant depart ? Shall we say, to that from w hence it came ? For it is not distant by place from its source. It is, therefore, in its principle* But if you cut off or burn the root, where is the life which was in the root ? In soul, not proceeding to another place, but it may also be in the same place. It will, however, be in another place, if it should run back. But if not, it will be in another vegetable nature. For it is not contracted into a narrow space. But if it should run back, it will be in the power which is prior to it. Where, how¬ ever, is this powrer situated ? In the power prior to presiding dcemons attend us in their beneficent operations. For the rational part never becomes the soul of the irrational na¬ ture.” This doctrine, which originated from Syrianus and Proclus, was universally adopted by all the succeeding Pla- tonists> 401 itself. And this again in another, as far as to in¬ tellect. But not in place. For no one o.f these was in place. And much less is intellect in place; so that neither is soul. Hence, soul being no where, in that which is no where it is thus also every where. But if soul proceeding to the super¬ nal realms, should stop in its progression in that which is between, before it has entirely arrived at the summit, it will have a middle life, and will be established in that part of itself. Intellect, how¬ ever, is all these, and yet it is not. It is, indeed, because they are from it ; and again, it is not, be¬ cause abiding in itself, it gave them to exist Hence, there is an abundant life in the universe, which is as it were extended into length, and has each of its parts in a successive order. The whole, however, is in continuity with itself, but the parts are distinguished by a proper difference, that which is prior not being destroyed in that which is pos¬ terior. What then is the soul which is ingenerated in plants ? And does it generate nothing else than that in which it is ? How this is effected, however, must be considered by us, assuming for this pur¬ pose another principle* £ C Plot . 402 OK GNOSTIC HYPOSTASES, AND THAT WHICH IS BEYOND THEM. I. Is it therefore necessary, that intellect should be in itself various, in order that by one of the things contained in itself, having surveyed the rest, it may be thus said to understand itself, as if it would not be able to be converted to, and have an intellectual perception of itself, if it was entirely simple ? Or is it also possible for that which is not a composite, to have the intellection of itself? For that which is said to perceive itself intellectually because it is a composite, and because by one of the things in itself it understands the rest, just as if by sense we should apprehend the form * of our- s The word used here by Plotinus is μορφή , which, as we have elsewhere observed, pertains to the colour, figure, and magnitude of superficies. 403 selves, and the other nature of the body, will not have a truly intellectual perception of itself. For in a thing of this kind, the whole will not be known, unless that which understands other things that are with itself, understands also itself ; since otherwise we shall not have the object of investigation, viz* that which perceives itself, but we shall have one thing perceiving another* It is necessary, there¬ fore, to admit that the intellectual perception of itself is the province of a simple nature, and how this is effected must, if possible, be considered ; or we must abandon the opinion that there is some¬ thing which truly intellectually perceives itself. To abandon, however, this opinion is not easy, since the rejection of it is attended with many absurdi¬ ties. For if we do not admit that to assign this power to the soul is not very absurd, yet not to ascribe it to the nature of intellect is perfectly ab¬ surd ; viz. if we grant that it has indeed a know¬ ledge of other things, but has no knowledge and science of itself. For sense, and not intellect, will have an apprehension of things external ; and if you are willing to grant it, this will also be the case with the dianoetic power and opinion. But whe¬ ther intellect has a knowledge of these or not, it is 404 fit to consider. It is evident, indeed, that intellect knows such things as are intelligible. Does it, therefore, know these alone, or also itself that knows these ? And does it thus far know itself, that it knows these alone, but does not know what itself is ? Hence, it will perceive that it knows some things belonging to itself, but it will not know what itself is ; or it will both know the things which are its own, and itself. And what the mode of this knowledge is, and how far it extends, must be con» sidered. II. In the first place, however, we must inquire concerning the soul, whether the knowledge of it* self is to be attributed to it, what the gnostic power of it is, and how it subsists. With respect to the sensitive power, therefore, of the soul, we must immediately say that its energy is directed to ex¬ ternals alone. For though there is a co-sensation of things which inwardly take place in the body, yet here the apprehension is of things which are external to sense : for then there is a sensation of the passions which are in the body. But the power in the soul which reasons, and which forms a judg¬ ment of the phantasms adjacent from sense, collects 405 and divides them, surveys the impressions as it were which are derived from intellect, and pos¬ sesses about these the same power [as intellect]. It likewise assumes intelligence, as knowing and adapting new and recently acceding impressions to those in itself which are ancient. And this know¬ ledge and adaptation, we say, are the reminiscences of the soul. The intellect of the soul, also, stops as far as this in its power. [It must be investi¬ gated, therefore, whether the reasoning power also,1] is converted to, and knows itself, or whether this must be referred to intellect. For if we attri¬ bute a knowledge of itself to this part, we must admit that it is intellect ; and in this case, we must investigate in what it differs from a superior intel¬ lect. But if we do not grant that it has a know- ledge of itself, by a reasoning process we must pro¬ ceed to the intellect which is superior, and we must consider what it is for this to know itself. And if we grant that this is also the province of the reasoning power, we must investigate what the dif- * It appears from the version of Ficinus, that it is necessary here after the word Ιυναμει in the original, to supply and read as follows: Ζητητεον apa , et το λογιζομενον καί -as eavror. ferc-nce is between the two in self-knowledge. For if there is no difference, then this our intellect is the highest. This dianoetic part, therefore, of the soul, is it converted to itself, or not ? Or has it [only] a knowledge of the impressions which it re¬ ceives both from intellect and sense ? And in the first place, it must be investigated how it possesses this knowledge. III. For sense, indeed, sees a man, and trans¬ mits the figure of him to the dianoetic part. But what does this part say ? Perhaps it does not yet say any thing, but only knows that it is a man, and there stops. Unless, indeed, it should consider with itself, who this is, if it happens that it has be¬ fore met with him, and should say, employing memory for this purpose, that it is Socrates. If, however, it should also evolve the form of the man, it will then distribute into parts those things which it received from the imagination. And if it should also say, Is he a good man ? it will make this inquiry from the information which it derived through sense. But that which it says on this occasion, it will now possess from itself, containing in itself a role by which it forms a judgment of 407 good. How then does it contain the good in it¬ self? May we not say, so far as it is boniform, and is corroborated to the perception of a thing of this kind, in consequence of intellect shining upon it? For the pure part of the soul is this, and receives the supervening vestiges of intellect. Why, how¬ ever, is not this intellect, but the rest beginning from the sensitive power is soul ? May we not say, because it is necessary that soul should consist in the discursive energies of reason ? But all these^ are the works of the reasoning power. Why, how¬ ever, do we not grant to this part the power of intellectually perceiving itself, and thus become liberated from doubt ? Is it because we assign to it the office of considering, and being busily em¬ ployed about externals ; but we conceive it to be the province of intellect, to survey both itself, and the forms which it contains ? If, however, some one should say, what therefore prevents this part from considering things pertaining to itself, by ano¬ ther power ? He who says this, does not investigate either the dianoetic or reasoning power, but assumes a pure intellect. What then prevents a pure intel¬ lect from existing in the soul ? We reply, nothing prevents this. But farther still, it is necessary to 408 inquire, whether this pure intellect is something belonging to soul? 1 We reply, it does not belong to the soul, and yet it is our intellect, being dif¬ ferent from the dianoetic power, and proceeding on its summit. At the same time, however, it is ours, though we must not con-numerate it with the parts of the soul. Or we may say, that it is ours, and yet not ours. Hence we use, and do not use it ; but we always employ the dianoetic power. And it is ours indeed, when we use it, but not ours when we do not use it .* But what is it to use a - - * * Both the sense of this passage, and the version of Ficinus require that instead of αλλ’ eri bei Xeyeiv, ψυχής τουτο3 we should read, aXX' ert bei Xeyeiv, ei tl ψυχής τούτο ; z The intellect which is ours when we use it, and not ours when we do not, is a partial intellect of the Mi nerval series, which is proximately participated by daemoniacal souls, and illuminates ours when we convert ourselves to it, and render our rational part intellectual. This in the Phaedrus is said to be the governor of the soul, and to be the only thing which perceives real being. But the soul also perceives it in con¬ junction with this intellect, when she is nourished by the sum¬ mit of her reasoning power and by science. This intellect, likewise, is spoken of in the Tim* us, and is denominated intel¬ ligence. For it is there said, that true being is apprehended by intelligence in conjunction with reason . Hence, as Proclus beautifully observes, “ when reason intellectually perceives eternal being, as reason indeed, it energizes transitively, but as perceiving intellectually , it energizes with simplicity, under- 409 pure intellect? Is it to pronounce ourselves as be¬ coming either such an intellect, or conformable to standing each thing as simple, yet not understanding all things at once, but passing from some things to others. At the same time, however, it perceives each of the things which it sees transitively as one simple thing.” In another part of his Commentary on the Timaeus, (p. 321.) he also admirably observes respecting this partial intellect as follows : “ What the impartible is in each partial soul (i. e. in a soul such as ours) is truly dubious. For it must not be admitted, that there is an intellect in each, and this partial. May we not say, therefore, that each partial soul is essentially suspended from a certain daemon ; and as every daemon has a daemoniacal intellect above itself, a partial soul also has this same intellect arranged as an impartible essence prior to it¬ self? Hence, the daemoniacal soul participates piimarily of this intellect ; but the partial souls that are under it, seconda» rily ; and which also causes them to be partial. For each partial soul has the partible as its peculiarity, but has the im¬ partible in common with the drnmons that are above these souls and whose peculiarity is the impartible. Hence, too, d®mons remain on high, but partial souls at a certain time descend, and divide themselves about bodies, as being more adapted to these. For if in partial souls, the genus of differ¬ ence is exuberant, which is the reason why they are not always able to energize according to all their powers, it is necessary that they should be in a greater degree adapted to a life divisi¬ ble about body, and in a greater degree be separated from an impartible essence ; by this means preserving an analogy to each of the extremes. Just as it is necessary that the most divine of souls, through their similitude to intellect, should in a greater degree be exempt from partible natures, but be more united to the impartible essences above them, and from which 410 it? For we are not intellect. We subsist, there¬ fore, conformable or according to it, the first rea¬ soning power being the recipient of it. For we are sentient through sense, and we ourselves per¬ ceive sensibly. Are we therefore thus dianoetically perceived, and do we thus dianoetically energize ? Or shall we say that we indeed are reasoning beings, and that we intellectually perceive the con¬ ceptions which are in dianoia ? For we are this. But the conceptions arising from the energies of intellect, are in such a way above us, as those they are connascently suspended. They also have an intellec¬ tual arrangement among souls. And it is reasonable to sup¬ pose, that the intellect of each daemon, so far as it is a whole and one, is the intellect of the daemon which proximately [i. c. immediately] participates it, but that it comprehends in itself the number of souls that are under it, and the intellectual paradigms of them. Each partial soul, therefore, will have its appropriate paradigm in this intellect, and not simply the whole of this intellect, in the same manner as the daemon who is essentially the leader of these souls. Defining, therefore, more accurately, we may say, that the impartible of each par¬ tial soul, is the form that is above it, which is comprehended in the one intellect that is allotted the government of the demoniacal series, under which each partial soul is arranged. And thus both the assertions are true, viz. that the intellect alone of each of these souls ranks among things which are al¬ ways established on high, and that every partial soul is the medium of the impartible above it, and the partible nature posterior to it/' 411 arising frofm the energies of sense are beneath us. And we are this peculiarity of soul, viz. the middle of a twofold power, the worse and the better ; sense being the worse, but intellect the better power. And with respect to sense, indeed, it seems that we always grant it to be ours ; for we are always sentient ; but this is dubious with re¬ spect to intellect, because we do not always use it s and because it is separate. But it is separate be¬ cause it does not verge to us, but we rather looking on high, tend to it. Sense, however, is our mes¬ senger, but intellect is our king. < IV, We also reign when we energize according to it. But wre energize according to it in a twofold respect; either because letters as it were, which are as laws, are inscribed in us by intellect ; or be1- cause we are filled with it ; or when it is present, are able to see and be sentient of it. We also know by such a spectacle, that we are able to learn other things through a thing of this kind ; so that we either learn the nature of the power which knows such an object as this, learning by the power 1 Instead of και ore μη avro aet. in this place, it is necessary to lead, και on μη αντψ γρωμζθα a ei. 412 itself ; or we become a thing of this kind.1 Hence, that which knows itself is twofold ; one indeed be¬ ing the dianoetic part of the soul, but the other be¬ ing superior to this. And, therefore, that which knows itself has a subsistence conformable to pure intellect itself. It also intellectually perceives it¬ self through this, not as any longer man, but as having entirely become something else ; and hastily withdrawing itself to that which is on high, it alone draws upward together with itself, the more excel¬ lent part of the soul, which is alone able to be winged with intelligence, in order that he who pos¬ sesses it may there deposit what he knew. Does not the dianoetic part, therefore, know that it is dianoetic, and that it receives the knowledge of things external ; that it forms a judgment also of the things wdiich it investigates, and this by the rules in itself which it derives from intellect? Does it not also know that there is something better than itself which does not a investigate, but possesses every thing in itself? If, therefore, it says that it is from intellect, and is the second after, and the * i. e. We become intellect. a For ο ζητεί here, it is necessary to read » μη ζητεί. 413 image of intellect, having all things as it were writ¬ ten in itself, as there he who writes and has written, will he, who thus knows himself, stop as far as to these things ? Shall we, however, employing ano¬ ther power, survey intellect knowing itself, or shall we assuming it, since it also is ours, and we are of it, thus both know intellect, and ourselves? Or is not the latter of these necessary, if we are to know what that is in intellect, for itself to know it¬ self? Then, however, some one becomes himself intellect, w hen dismissing other things pertaining to himself, he beholds intellect through intellect, and by it also surveys himself, just as intellect likewise beholds itself. / V. Does intellect, therefore, by one part of itself behold another part ? In this case, however, one part will be that which sees, but another, that which is seen. And this is not for the same thing to see itself. What then ? If the whole is a thing of such a kind as to consist of similar parts, so that the perceiver differs in no respect from the thing perceived, in this case, the perceiver seeing that part which is the same with itself, will also see itself. For the perceiver does not at all differ from 414 the thing perceived. Or may we not indeed in the first place say that this division of intellect is ab¬ surd? For how is the division to be made? since it cannot be casually. Who likewise is it that divides it? Is it he who arranges himself in the order of the perceiver, or he who arranges himself as the thing perceived ? In the next place, how will the perceiver know himself, when in perceiving he arranges himself in the order of that which is seen ? For that w hich sees was not supposed to be in that which is seen. Or will not he who thus knows himself, understand himself to be that which is per¬ ceived, but not that which perceives ? So that he will not know all, nor the whole of himself. For that which he knows he knows as a thing seen, hut not as a thing that sees, and thus he wall be the per- ceiver of another thing, and not of himself. May he not, however, of himself add, that he is also that which sees, in order that he may perfectly know himself? But if he comprehends in himself that which sees, he also at the same time compre¬ hends the things that are seen. If, therefore, in the perceiver the things perceived are contained, if indeed, they are impressions of the things seen, he will not contain the things themselves. But if he 415 possesses the things themselves, he does not see them through dividing himself [into the perceiver and the thing perceived ;] but prior to the division of himself, he both beheld and possessed them. If, however, this be the case, it is necessary that contemplation should be the same with the object of contemplation, and intellect the same with the intelligible. For if it is not the same, there will not be truth. For unless this is admitted, he who is said to possess beings, will only possess an im- f pression different from beings, which is not truth. For truth ought not to be of another thing, but that which it says, that also it should be. Thus, there¬ fore, intellect, the intelligible, and being are one ; and this is the first being, and the first intellect, possessing beings ; or rather, it is the same with beings. If, however, intelligence and the intelli¬ gible are one, how on this account does that which is intellective intellectually perceive itself? For intelligence, indeed, as it were, comprehends the intelligible, or is the same with it Intellect, how¬ ever, which intellectually perceives itself, is not yet manifest. But intelligence and the intelligible are the same ; for the intelligible is a certain energy, since it is neither power, nor void of life, nor again 416 is its life adventitious, nor its intellection in some¬ thing different from itself, as in a stone, or a cer¬ tain inanimate thing, and it is also the first essence. If, therefore, it is energy, and the first energy, in¬ telligence likewise will be most beautiful, and will be essential intelligence. For intelligence of this kind is most true, is the first, and subsists prima¬ rily, and will therefore be the first intellect. For this intellect is not in capacity, nor is this one thing, but intelligence another; since thus again, the essential of it would be in capacity. If, there¬ fore, it is energy, and the essence of it is energy, it will be one and the same with energy. Since, however, being and the intelligible are one and the same with energy, all will be at the same time one, viz. intellect, intelligence, and the intelligible. If, therefore, the intelligence of it is the intelligible, but it is the intelligible, hence it will itself intellec¬ tually perceive itself. For it will perceive itself by intelligence, which it is, and will understand the intelligible which also it is. According to each of these, therefore, it will intellectually perceive itself, both so far as it is intelligence, and so far as it is the intelligible, and will understand by intelligence, which it is, 417 VI. Reason, therefore, demonstrates that there is something which properly and principally itself intellectually perceives itself. This however, when it is in soul, intellectually sees in one way, but in intellect more principally. For soul, indeed, knows itself, that it is the progeny of another thing ; but intellect knows that it is from itself, and what its nature is, and who it is ; and this by a natural con¬ version to itself. For beholding beings it beholds itself and beholding is in energy ; and the energy is itself. For intellect and intelligence are one. With the whole of itself also it perceives the whole, and not a part by a part. Does, therefore, reason demonstrate it to be a thing of such a kind as to have an energy which is merely an object of belief ; or is it indeed necessary that it should be such as it is, but that it should not have persuasion ? For necessity indeed is in intellect , but persuasion in soul . Hence we investigate as it seems, rather for the purpose of persuading ourselves, than to behold truth in a pure intellect. For as long as we con¬ tinued on high, and adhered to th® mature of intel¬ lect we were satisfied, energized intellectually, and contemplated, collecting all things into one. For it was intellect that then energized, and spoke of Plot. % D 4J8 itself. But soul was quiet, yielding to the energy of intellect. When, however, we descended hither, we were desirous of producing persuasion in the soul, wishing to behold the archetype in an image. Perhaps, therefore, it is requisite to teach our soul, how its intellect once beheld itself ; and to teach that part of the soul this, which is in a certain re¬ spect intellectual, and which we assume to be dia- noetic ; by this appellation latently signifying, that it is a certain intellect, or that it is a power through intellect, and that it derives its subsistence from intellect. It is fit, therefore, that this part should know, that it also knows such things as it sees, and such things as it says. And if it were the things which it says, it would after this manner know itself. Since, however, the things which it sees are present with, or are supernally imparted to it from that re» gion whence it also originates, it happens to this part likewise since it is reason, and receives things allied to itself, that by an adaptation of the vesti- gies which it contains, it is enabled to know itself. It may, therefore, transfer the image to true intel¬ lect which is the same with the things that are truly the objects of intellectual perception, and which have a real and primary subsistence. For it is not 419 possible that such an intellect as this should be ex- ternal to itself. Hence, if it is in and with itself, and is [truly] that which it is, it is intellect. But intellect can never be deprived of intellect; so that the knowledge of itself is necessarily present with it; and this because it is in itself, and its employ¬ ment and essence consist in being intellect alone. For this is not a practical intellect, as looking to that which pertains to external action, and which in consequence of not abiding in itself, is a certain knowledge of externals. There is, however, no necessity if intellect is practic, that it should know itself ; but this is the province of that intellect which is not engaged in practical affairs. For ap¬ petite is not in pure intellect ; but this being ab¬ sent, the consequent conversion to itself, not only demonstrates that the knowledge of itself is reason¬ able, but also necessary. For otherwise what would be the life of it, when liberated from action, and established in intellect ? VII. It may however, be said, that pure intel¬ lect beholds deity. But if it is acknowledged that it knows God, he who grants this, must also neces¬ sarily admit that it knows itself For such things 420 as it possesses from deity it knows, and also what he imparts, and what he is able to impart. But learning and knowing these things, it will likewise through this know itself. For divinity is one of the things imparted, or rather he is all that is imparted. If, therefore, intellect also knows him, and learns the powers that he possesses, it will likewise know itself to be generated from thence ; and that it de¬ rives from him all that it is able to receive. If, however, it is unable to see him clearly, since to see is perhaps the very thing that is seen, on this account especially that which remains to it, will be to see and know itself, if to see is to be the very thing itself which is seen. For what else can we confer upon it? By Jupiter, quiet. The quiet of intellect however, is not mental alienation, but is the tranquil energy of intellect, withdrawing itself from other things ; since to other natures also that are at rest from other employments, their own proper energy remains ; and especially to those things whose existence is not in capacity, but in energy. Where, therefore, existence is energy, and there is nothing else to which energy is directed, there energy is directed to itself. Hence intellect perceiving itself, is thus with itself, and has its 421 energy directed to itself. For if something else is suspended from it, that something else is in itself, because its energy is directed to itself. For it is necessary that it should first be in itself, and after¬ wards that its energy should be directed to some¬ thing else, or that something else should proceed from it, assimilated to it : just as fire, which is first in itself, and has the energy of fire, and thus is ena¬ bled to produce the vestigie of itself in something else. For again, intellect indeed, is energy in it¬ self; but soul is so in proportion as it tends as it were internally to its own intellect. But so far as it departs from intellect, so far it tends to that which is external. And partly indeed, it is assi¬ milated to that from whence it came ; but partly, though it becomes dissimilar, yet here also it retains a similitude to it, whether it acts, or produces. For when it acts, at the same time it contemplates ; and when it produces, it produces forms, which are as it were intellections derived from first intelligi- bles. Hence, all things are vestigies of intelligence and intellect, proceeding conformably to their archetype ; those that are near to it, imitating it in a greater degree; but such things as are last preserving only an obscure image of it. #■ 422 VIII. What kind of intelligible, however, does / intellect see, and what does it perceive itself to be ? With respect to the intelligible indeed, it is not proper to investigate such a thing as colour or figure in bodies : for i n tell igi hies are prior to these. And the reason [or productive principle] in seeds which produces these, is not these. For these seminal principles also, are naturally invisible, and still more so are intelligibles. There is likewise the same nature of them and of the things that possess them, after the same manner as the reason which is in seed, and soul which participates of these. The vegetable soul however does not see the things which it possesses : for neither did it generate these,1 but both itself, and the reasons it contains are an image. But that from whence it came is manifest and true, and primary. Hence, also, it is of itself, and with itself· The vegetable soul however, unless it pertained to, and was in another thing, would not remain what it is. For it belongs to an image, since it is of another thing, to be generated in something different from itself, un¬ less it is suspended from it. Hence, neither does * T«vra is omitted in the original,· 423 it see as not having sufficient light for this purpose» And if it should see, since it is perfected in another thing, it would behold another thing, and not itself. Nothing, however, of this kind takes place with pure intellect ; but vision is there, and that which is visible is consubsistent with it. Such also is the visible, as is the vision ; and the vision as the visi¬ ble. Who is it therefore, that will speak of the visible such as it is ? He who sees it. But intel¬ lect sees it; since in the sensible region also, sight being light, or rather being united to light, sees light ; for it sees colour. There, however, sight does not perceive through another thing, but through- itself, because there is nothing external to it. With another light, therefore, and not through another, it sees another light. Hence, light sees another light; and therefore itself beholds itself. This light however, when it shines forth in the soul illuminates it, i. e. it causes it to be intellectual. And in consequence of this, the soul is in itself, similarly with supernal light. If such, therefore, is the vestige of light ingenerated in the soul, by con¬ ceiving supernal light1 to be of this kind, and to be 8 io e. Intelligible light. still more beautiful and clear, you will approach nearer to the nature of intellect and the intelligible. For this when it shines forth, imparts to the soul a clearer, but not a generative life. For on the com trary it converts the soul to itself, and does not suffer it to be dissipated, but causes it to love and joyfully receive the splendor which is in it. Nei¬ ther does it impart a sensitive life. For this looks to externals, but does not on this account perceive more acutely. He, however, who receives that light which is the fountain1 2 of truth, beholds as it were more acutely visible objects ; but the contrary is not true/ It remains, therefore, for the soul to assume an intellectual life which is a vestige of the life of intellect. For there realities subsist. But the life and energy which are in intellect, are the first light primarily shining in itself, and a splen¬ dor directed to itself, which at one and the same time illuminates, and is illuminated. This also is that which is truly intelligible, is intellect, and the 1 ΪΙηγην is omitted in the original, but is added from the version of Ficinus. ^ .· . . V 1 . . , ' ·. . '·· · . . - ; · , . ' 2 Instead of αλλα τουναντίον, it is necessary to read αλλ’ ου τουναντίον. The meaning of Plotinus is, that intelligible light is not seen more acutely by the perception of visible objects. 425 object of intellect, and is seen by itself. Nor is it in want of another thing in order that it may see, but for the purpose of perceiving is sufficient to itself For that which sees is itself the thing which is seen. This very thing also takes place with us, so that the knowledge of it by us, is effected through it. Or whence should we be able to speak concerning it ? For it is a thing of such a kind as to have a clearer apprehension of itself, and we likewise more clearly perceive ourselves through it. Through arguments, however, of this kind, we should elevate our soul to it, considering also that our soul and its life are an image ; a resemblance, and an imitation of it ; and likewise that when it sees intellectually, It becomes deiform, and has the form of intellect. And if some one should inquire what the nature is of this perfect intellect, whicli is every intellect, and primarily knows itself, such a one should first be¬ come established in intellect, or should yield that energy of his soul to intellect, which is employed about things of which he retains the memory in himself. But it will be possible for the soul thus disposed, to show that it is able through itself as an image to behold after a certain manner that pure intellect, through [a life] more accurately assimi- 426 lated io it, as far as a part of the soul is capable of arriving at a similitude to intellect. If IX. It is necessary, therefore, as it seems, that the soul in order that it may see the most divine part of soul, ought to consider what that is which intellect may know. Perhaps, however, this may be effected, if you first separate body from the man, viz. from yourself. And if after this, you separate the soul which fashions the body, and as much as possible take away sense, desire and anger, and other trifles of this kind, as very much verging \ to the mortal nature. For then, that which re¬ mains of the soul, is what we have denominated the image of intellect, and which preserves some¬ thing of its light; so as to resemble the light proxi¬ mate to the sphere of the sun which emanating from, diffuses its light about the sun. No one therefore, will admit that light to be the sun, which proceeds from, and shines about it. For this light originates from the sun, and permanently surrounds it ; but another light always proceeds from another prior to it, until it arrives as far as to us and the earth. All the light, however, which is about the suri, must be admitted to be situated in something 427 else, in order that there may be no interval void of body after the sun. But soul is a light derived from, and subsisting about intellect. It also is sus¬ pended from intellect, which it surrounds, and is not in any other thing. Nor is there any place in which it is received ; for neither is intellect in place. Hence, the light of the sun indeed, is in the air ; but soul of this kind is so pure, that it is visible of itself, so that it is seen by itself, and by another soul similarly pure. Soul indeed, must reason about, [in order to perceive] intellect, and must investigate from itself what the nature of it is. But intellect beholds itself without reasoning about itself. For it is always present with itself. But we are present with ourselves and with intellect when we tend to it. For our life is divided, and consists of many lives. But intellect is not at all in want of another life, or of other things ; but what it imparts, it imparts to others, and not to itself. For it is not indigent of things inferior to itself ; nor, since it possesses the universe, does it confer on itself that which is less. Nor does it contain first natures in itself as vestiges ; or rather, it does not contain, but is itself these very things. If, however, some one is incapable of having such a primary soul, which perceives intellectually with 428 purity, let him assume a doxastic soul, and after¬ wards, from this ascend [to intellect.] But if he cannot even assume this, let him employ sense, bringing with itself more dilated forms : I mean sense in itself, together with the things which it is able to contain, and which now exists in forms» If some one however, wishes to descend, let him proceed to the generative power, and as far as to its effects. Afterwards, let him from hence ascend from the last to the last forms, or rather to those that are the first. X. And thus much concerning these particulars. If, however, not 1 only forms that are produced, are in intellect, for they are not the last of things, [when they are considered as having an intellec- tual subsistence ;] but their productive forms are the first of things, whence also they are first ; — if this be the case, it is necessary, that the producing cause of forms should also be there, and that both the productive cause and the forms produced should be one. For if this is not admitted, intellect will again be in want of something else. What then, will that which is beyond this be again in want ? 1 ov is omitted in the original. 429 Or is not this, indeed, which is indigent intellect ? Will not, therefore, that which is beyond intellect see itself? Or must we not rather say, that this is not at all in want of vision. But of this hereafter. Now, however^ we shall resume what we were be¬ fore discussing. For the speculation is not about a casual thing. Again, therefore, we must say that this intellect is in want of the vision of itself ; or rather that it possesses the perception of itself. And in the first place, it sees that it is manifold. In the next place it sees that it is the perception of something else [i. e. of the intelligible,] and hence, that it is necessarily perceptive of the intelligible. ( 1 It likewise sees that the essence of itself is vision. L For in consequence of there being a certain other thing, it is necessary there should be vision ; since if there were nothing else, vision would be in vain. Hence, it is necessary that in intellect there should be more things than one, in order that there may be vision. It is also necessary that vision should concur with the visible ; and that what is seen by intellect should be multitude, and not entirely one. For that which is entirely one has not any thing about which it may energize? but being alone and solitary, it is perfectly quiescent. For so far 430 as it energizes, it is another and another. For if it were not another and another, what would it do, or where would it proceed ? Hence it is necessary that the nature which energizes, should either ener¬ gize about another thing, or be itself something manifold, if it intends to energize in itself. If, how¬ ever, it does not proceed into any thing else, it will be quiescent But when it is entirely quiescent, it will not perceive intellectually. Hence it is neces¬ sary that the nature which is intellective, should, when it perceives intellectually, be in two things; and that either one of the two should be external, or that both should be in the same thing, and that intelligence should always subsist in difference, and also from necessity in sameness. Those things also which are properly the objects of intellectual perception are the same and different. And again, each of intelligibles co-introduces with itself this sameness and difference. Or what will that perceive intellectually, which does not contain in itself another and another ? For if each of the ob¬ jects of intellectual vision is reason,1 it is a multi- 1 i. e. If it is a distributed cause. For this is what reason and reasoning signify when ascribed to intelligible, and intel¬ lectual, or divine essences. 431 . ^ tude. Intellect, therefore, will learn that it is it» self a various eye, or that it consists as it were of various colours. For if it should apply itself to the one , and to the impartible, it would be silent. For what would it have to say, or discuss about it? Indeed, if it were requisite that the impartible should entirely speak of itself, it would be necessary that it should first say what it is not. So that thus it would be many in order that it may be one/ [which is absurd.] In the next place, when it says “ I am* this thing/5 if it says this thing as something different from itself, it asserts what is false ; but if as an accident to itself, it says that it is a multitude. Or it will say this, I am , I am , and /, /. What then, if it should be alone two things, and should say I, and this ? 5 Will it not in this case neces¬ sarily be more than two things ? For these two are to be considered as different from each other, and different in a certain respect Hence, there will now be number and many other things. It is ne- • 1 For in this case, it would be at least two things ; since in addition to the impartible it would have speech. And the duad is the first multitude. * Instead of ei μη here, it is necessary to read αμι* 2 The words και τούτο are omitted in the original. 432 cessary, therefore, that the nature which is intel¬ lective, should receive another and another, and .· that the objects of its perception being intelligible, should be various ; for otherwise there will not be an intellectual perception of, but a contact with it v \ | '■ - ‘ # ’ ·- ' There will likewise be as it were, an adhesion only ineffable, and without intellection, possessing an energy prior to intelligence, intellects not yet exist¬ ing, in consequence of that which adheres not per¬ ceiving intellectually. It is necessary, however, \ that the nature which sees intellectually, should not itself remain simple, and especially when it perceives itself. For it will itself divide itself, even though it should be silently intellective. In the next place, that which is entirely simple will not be in want of a busy energy, as it were, about it¬ self. For what will it learn by intellectual percep¬ tion ? For prior to this perception, it exists that which it is to itself. For again, knowledge is a certain desire and as it were, an investigating disco- very. Hence, that which is without any difference 1 in itself with respect to itself, is quiescent, and in¬ vestigates nothing respecting itself. But that which evolves itself, will also be multitudinous. 1 For διάφορον here, it is necessary to read α διάφοροί'. 433 XI. Hence this intellect becomes manifold; when it wishes to understand that which is beyond intellect. Endeavouring, therefore, to come into contact with it as with that which is simple, it falls from it always receiving another multiplied nature in itself. Hence, it originates from f it not as in¬ tellect, but as sight not yet seeing. But it proceeds from it containing in itself that which it has mul¬ tiplied. Hence, it indefinitely desires another thing, possessing at the same time a certain phan¬ tasm in itself. It proceeds, however, receiving another thing in itself, which causes it to be multi¬ tudinous. For again, it has an impression * of the vision [of that whieh is beyond itself], or it would never become the recipient of it. Thus, therefore, it becomes manifold from the one ; and thus as in¬ tellect it sees itself, and then becomes sight per¬ ceiving. This, however, is then intellect when it possesses ; and as intellect it possesses.3 But prior 1 Instead of err αντω in this place, both the sense and the; version of Ficinus require that we should read απ' αυτόν . α This impression is tke o?7e o f intellect, the summit and as it were flower of its nature, and a vestige of the ineffable. For by seeing the ineffable, it becomes stamped as it were with its super-essential nature. 3 Conformably to this, Aristotte says of intellect in his Metaphysics, evepyei be βχων, i. e. ** It energizes possessing/’’ Plot „ % E 434' \ to this, it is desire alone, and a formless sight. This intellect, therefore, projects itself towards that which is beyond intellect : and when it receives it, it becomes [perceptive] intellect. But it is always the recipient [of the ineffable], and always be¬ comes intellect, essence, and intelligence, when it perceives intellectually. For prior to this it was not intelligence, in consequence of not possessing the intelligible ; nor intellect, because it was not yet intellective. That, however, which is prior to these, is the principle of these, but not as inherent in them. For the first principle, or the from which , is not inherent in that of which it is the principle, but the things of which a thing consists, are inherent in that thing. That, however, from which each thing is derived, is not each thing, but is different from all things. Hence, it is not some one of all things, but is prior to all things ; so that on this account, it is also prior to intellect. For again, all things are within intellect ; so that for this rea= son likewise, it is prior to intellect. If, also, the natures which are posterior to it have the order of all things, and on this account likewise it is prior to all things, it is not proper that it should be a certain one of those things to which it is prior. 435 You must not, therefore, denominate it intellect. Hence, neither must you call it the good \ if the good signifies some one of all things. But if it sig¬ nifies that which is prior to all things, let it be thus denominated. If, therefore, intellect is intellect because it is multitudinous, and the intellection of itself as it were intervening, though it is from itself, multiplies itself, it is necessary that the nature which is perfectly simple, and the first of all things, should be beyond intellect. For if it possessed intelligence, it would not be beyond, but would be intellect. But if it were intellect, it would also be multitude. XII. What however hinders [it may be said, the first principle of things], from being thus multi¬ tude, so long as it is one essence ? For multitude here is not composition ; but the energies of it are multitude. If, however, the energies of it are not essences, but it proceeds from capacity into energy, it will not be multitude indeed, vet it will be bn- perfect in essence before it energizes. But if the essence of it is energy, and the energy of it is mul¬ titude, its essence will be as multitudinous as its energy. We admit, however, that this is the case 436 with intellect, to which we attribute the intellection of itself ; but we do not assert this of the principle of all things. For it is necessary that prior to mul¬ titude there should be the one , from which multitude proceeds ; since in every number the one is first. Our opponents, however, may say, that this is in¬ deed the case in number® For the things which are in a consequent order to unity are composi- «I tions ; but what necessity is there in beings, that there should be a certain one from which the many proceed P To this we reply, that the many without the one would be divulsed from each other, one thing casually proceeding to another, in order to the composition of multitude. Hence, they also say, that energies proceed from one intellect which is simple ; so that they now admit there is some* thing simple prior to energies. And in the next place, they should know that energies which are always permanent are hypostases. Energies, how¬ ever, being hypostases, are different from that from which they proceed ; since this indeed remains simple, but that which proceeds from it, is in itself multitude, and is suspended from its simple cause. For if they subsist, that from which they proceed at the same time in a certain respect energizing, 437 there also there will be multitude. But if they are first energies producing that which is secondary, nothing prevents that which is prior to the energies from abiding in itself, and from conceding energies to that which is second, and which consists of energies. For that which is prior to energies is one thing, but the energies which proceed from it another ; because from that not energizing, [these derive their subsistence]. For if this were not the case, intellect would not be the first energy. For [that which is entirely simple] did not as it were desire that intellect should be generated, and after® wards intellect was generated, this desire subsisting between the simple principle, and its offspring in¬ tellect. Nor in short, did this principle desire. For thus it would be imperfect, and the desire would not yet have that which it wished to obtain * Nor again, does it partly obtain the object of its wish, and partly not. For there is nothing to which the extension [of its desire is directed]. But in¬ deed, if any thing subsists after it, it subsists in consequence of this principle abiding in its accus¬ tomed habit. It is necessary, therefore, in order that something else may subsist, that this principle should be every where quiescent in itself, For if 438 not, either it will be moved prior to being moved, and will perceive intellectually prior to intellectual perception, or its first energy will be imperfect, being an impulse alone. To what, therefore, can it thus be impelled ? For either we must admit that the energy flowing as it were from it, is ana¬ logous to the light proceeding from the sun, which energy is every intelligible and intellectual nature, and that this principle being established at the summit of the intelligible world reigns over it, with¬ out separating from itself, that which is unfolded into light from it ; or we must admit that there is another light prior to this light, which emits its splendor, perpetually abiding in the intelligible. For that wdiich proceeds from this principle is not separated from it, nor again, is the same w ith it. Nor is it a thins; of such a kind as not to be essence* Nor is it, as it were, blind; but it sees and know^s itself, and is primarily gnostic. The principle it¬ self, however, as it is beyond intellect, so likewise it is beyond knowledge. And as it is not in want of any thing, it is not in want of knowledge ; but knowledge subsists in the nature which is next to this. For to know is one certain thing ; but this principle is one without the addition of certain . 439 For if it was a certain one , it would not be the one itself \ For itself is prior to a certain or some par¬ ticular thing. XIII. Hence, it is in reality ineffable* For of whatever you speak, you speak of as a certain thing. But of that which is beyond all things, and which is beyond even most venerable intellect* it is alone true to assert that it has not any other name [than the ineffable], and that it is not some one of all things. Properly speaking, however, there is no name of it, because nothing can be asserted of it. We, however, endeavour as much as possible to signify to ourselves something respecting it. But when we say doubting, it has therefore no percep¬ tion nor intellection of itself, and consequently does not know itself, we ought to consider this, that when we assert these things, we should convert ourselves to their contraries. For we make it to be multitudinous, when we admit that it is know- able and has knowledge : and by attributing intel¬ lection to it, we make it to be in want of intelli¬ gence. But if it subsists together with intellection, intellectual perception will be superfluously added to it. For in short, intellection appears to be the 440 co-sensation of the whole [of that which is intellec¬ tive] many things concurring in one and the same, when any thing itself intellectually perceives itself, in which also intellection properly so called con¬ sists. Each of these many, howeveiy is itself one certain thing unattended with investigation. But if intelligence is of that which is external, it will be something indigent, and not properly intellectual perception. That, however, which is perfectly simple, and truly self-sufficient, is not in want of any thing. But that which is secondarily self- sufficient, being in want of itself, is in want of the intellectual perception of itself. And that which is indigent with respect to itself, produces from the whole of itself the self-sufficient, becoming suffi¬ cient from all [the particulars of which it consists], dwelling w-ith itself, and being conversant with it¬ self by intellection ; since co-sensation also, is the sensation of a certain multitude, as its name testi¬ fies. Intelligence, likewise, which is prior to sense, converts that w'hich is intellective, and which is evidently multitudinous, to itself. For if it should / alone say this, I am being , it w7ould say this, as having discovered that it is so. And it would make this assertion reasonably. For being is mul- 441 titudinous ; since when it extends itself to that which is simple, and says, I am being, it does not meet either with itself, or with being. For it does not speak of being as of a stone, when it speaks of it truly ; but by one word it pronounces many things.1 For this existence, which is truly exist¬ ence, is not spoken of as having nothing more than a vestige of being ; since this is not being, and therefore may be said to have the relation of an image to its archetype. Hence, true being con¬ tains in itself multitude. What then ? will it not intellectually perceive each of the many it contains ? May we not say, that if you wish to assume the solitary and alone, you will not have intellectual perception ? Existence itself, however, is in itself multitudinous. And though you should speak of something else, that something else has existence. If, however, this be the case, if there is something which is the most simple of all things, it will not have an intellectual perception of itself. For if it had, [it would also have a subsistence somewhere]. a 1 Instead of αλλ’ ονκ ειρηκε μιη. ρησει πολλά ill this place, it is necessary to read αλλ’ ουν ειρηκε κ . λ. α The words within the brackets are wanting in the original, and are supplied from the version of Ficinus. After ei γαρ Neither, therefore, does it intellectually perceive itself, nor is there any intellectual perception of it, XIV. How, therefore, can we speak of it? W e are able indeed to say something of it, but we do not speak it. Nor have we either any know¬ ledge, or intellectual perception of it. How, there¬ fore, do we speak of it, if we do not possess it ? May we not say, that though we do not possess it by knowledge, yet we are not entirely deprived of the possession of it ; but we possess it in such a way that we can speak of it, but cannot speak it ? For we can say what it is not, but we cannot say what it is ; so that we speak of it from things pos¬ terior to it. We are not, however, prevented from possessing it, though we cannot say what it is. But in the same manner as those w7ho energize enthusiastically, and become divinely inspired, per¬ ceive indeed, that they have something greater in c£ee, therefore, it is requisite to add €%ei και πον eivcu. But the meaning of Plotinus in this place is, that if the most simple of all things had an intellectual perception of itself, it would be in itself ; and consequently would be somewhere. For an intellectual essence because self-subsistent, is said to be in it¬ self. For so far as it is the cause of, it comprehends itself; but so far as it is caused, it is comprehended by itself. 443 themselves, though they do not know what it is ; but of the things by which they are excited they speak, and from these receive a certain sensation of the moving power, which is different from them ; — in this manner also we appear to be affected about that which is perfectly simple, when possess¬ ing a pure intellect we employ it, and conclude that this is the inward intellect which is the source of essence, and of other things which belong to this arrangement. We are sensible, therefore, that the nature ■which is perfectly simple is not these things, but that it is something more excellent, more ample, and great, than that which we deno¬ minate being, because it is also superior to reason, intellect, and sense, imparting, but not being these. XV. But how does it impart them? Shall we say by possessing, or by not possessing them ? If, however, it indeed possesses them, it is not simple. But if it does not possess them, how does multitude proceed from it ? For perhaps some one may ad¬ mit that one simple thing may proceed from it, though even in this case it may be inquired how any thing can proceed from that which is entirely 444 one* At tiie same time, however, it may be said, that one simple thing may flow from it, in the same manner as a surrounding splendor from light. But how do many things proceed from it ? May we not say, that what proceeds from is not the same with it ? If, therefore, it is not the same with, it is not better than it. [For what is better, or in short, more excellent than the one ? It is therefore infe¬ rior to it. But this is more indigent].® For what is in a greater degree indigent than the one , except that which is not one ? This, therefore, that is more indigent is many. At the same time, however, it aspires after the one . Hence it is one many. For the one saves every thing which is not one ; and every thing is what it is through the one . For un¬ less it becomes one, though it should consist of many things, it cannot yet be denominated being. And though it may be possible to say what each thing is, yet this is only in consequence of each thing being one, and participating of sameness. That, however, which has not multitude in itself, is 1 The words within the brackets are supplied from the ver¬ sion of Ficinus ; so that in the original, after ovbe ye βεΧτω vt it is necessary to supply rt yap βεΧτων τον evost η οΧω$ xpetr- τον ; χεφον αρα . τοντο $e cvbcecrrepov* 445 not one by the participation of one, but is the one itself, not from another, but because it is this ; from which other things also derive their subsist¬ ence, some indeed, proximately, but others re· motely. But since that which is next to the one is / characterized by sameness, and is posterior to the one , it is evident that the multitude of it is every where one. For being multitude at the same time it subsists in sameness, and without separation, because all things in it exist collectively at once [in impartible union]. Each also of the natures which proceed from it, as long as it participates of life, is one many. For it cannot exhibit itself to the view as one all . That, however, from which this origi¬ nates is one all , because it is a great principle. For the principle is in reality and truly one. But that which is next to the principle, being thus after a manner [exuberantly full of ] and heavy with the one , becomes all things through its participation of the one ; and whatever it contains is again all and one. What therefore is this all ? Is it not those things of which the one is the principle ? But how is the one the principle of all things ? Is it not be¬ cause it is the saviour of them, causing each of them to be one ? Or is it also because it gave sub- 446 sistence to them ? After what manner therefore ? Is it not because it antecedently contained them ? We have however before observed, that thus it will be multitude. They are contained in it, therefore, in such a way as to subsist without distinction and separation.1 Eut the things contained in the second principle [after the one ] are separated by reason : for they are now in energy. The one , however, is the power of all things. But what is the mode of this power ? For it is not said to be in power or capacity in the same manner as matter, because it receives : for matter suffers [in conse¬ quence of being passive] ; and thus the power of matter has an arrangement opposite to that of effi¬ ciency. How, therefore, does it produce the things which it has not? For it does not produce them casually ; nor having considered what it is to do, does it then produce them. It has been said, therefore, by us, that if any thing proceeds from the one , it is different from it ; but being different, it is not one. For this is what the one was. If, however, that which proceeds from the one is not one, it is now necessary that it should be two * As all things proceed from the one} hence the one is all things prior to all. 447 things, and should be multitude. For it is now same and different, quality, and other things. That the offspring of the one , therefore, is not one [alone] has been now demonstrated. But that it is mul¬ titude, and a multitude of such a kind as that which is surveyed in what is posterior to it, is deservedly a subject of doubt And the necessity of the subsistence of that which is posterior to it, still remains to be investigated. XVI. That it is necessary, therefore, there / should be something after the first, has been else¬ where asserted by us. And, in short, we have said that this which is next to the first [principle of things] is power, and an inestimable power. This, likewise, is rendered credible from all other things, because there is nothing even among the last of things which has not a generative power. Now, however, we must say, that in things which are generated, the progression is not to the upward, but to the downward, and to a greater multitude, and that the principle of particulars is itself more simple [than its effects]. Hence, that which pro¬ duced the sensible world will not be itself the sen¬ sible world, but intellect and the intelligible world. 448 Hence, too, that which is prior to the intelligible world, and which generated it, is something more simple than intellect and the intelligible world. For that which is multitudinous does not originate from multitude, but from that which is not multi¬ tude. For if the source of it was multitudinous, it would not be the principle, but the principle would be some other thing prior to it. It is necessary, therefore, to refer all things to that which is truly one, and which is superior to all multitude, and to every kind of [participable] simplicity, if it is truly simple. But how is that which is generated from it, multitudinous and universal reason, since it is evident it is not itself reason ? If however it is not reason, how can reason proceed from that which is not 1 reason ? And how can that which is boniform proceed from the good? For what does it possess in itself that can cause it to be denominated boni¬ form ? Is it because it subsists with invariable % sameness ? But what does this contribute to the good? For we seek after a sameness of subsistence when good is present. Or do we not first investi¬ gate that from which it is not proper to depart, because it is good ? But if it is not good, it is better 1 μη is omitted in the original. 449 to abandon the pursuit of it. Is it therefore con¬ sidered by us as boniform, to live abiding in good voluntarily, and with invariable sameness ? Hence, if intellect is satisfied with living after this manner, it evidently seeks after nothing else. It appears, therefore, that a sameness of subsistence is desira¬ ble, because what is present is sufficient. All things, however, being now present to intellect, to live is desirable ; and this when all things are in such a manner present with it, as not to be different from it: But if all life is present with this, and a life perspicuous and perfect ; in this, soul and every intellect subsist, and nothing is wanting to it either of life or intellect. Hence it is sufficient to itself, and seeks after nothing farther. But if this be the case, it possesses in itself, that which it would investigate if it were not present. It possesses, therefore, in itself the good , or a thing of such a kind as we call life and intellect, or something else which is accidental to these. If, however, this is the good , there will be nothing beyond these. But if the good is beyond these, a life tending to this, suspended from it, having its subsistence from, and living according to it, will evidently be good. For the good is the principle of intellect. It is neces- Plot. 2 F 450 sary, therefore, that the good should be more ex¬ cellent than life and intellect. For thus intellect, and the life which it contains, will be converted to it, since the life of intellect possesses in itself an imitation of the good , according to which intellect lives, and this is also the case with intellect itself, whatever this imitation may be. XVII. What then is better than a most wise, irreprehensible, and unerring life ? What more ex¬ cellent than an intellect possessing all things ? Or than all life, and every intellect ? If, therefore, we should say that the maker of these is more excel¬ lent, and should relate how he made them, and show that nothing better than him can present itself to our view7, our reasoning will not proceed to any thing else, but will stop there. It is neces¬ sary, however, to ascend, both on account of many other considerations, and because self-sufficiency to this intellect is the result of all the things of which 1 1 Instead of eic πάντων εζω εστιν , it is necessary to read εκ πάντων e| cv εστιν. The necessity of this emendation was not seen by Ficinus, whose translation of this part is consequently very erroneous. For how can the sufficiency of intellect con¬ sist of an accumulation of all things externally? But the 451 it consists. But each of these is evidently indigent, because each participates of the same one, and par¬ ticipates of one in consequence of not being the one itself. What then is that of which this intel¬ lect participates, and which causes it to exist, and to be all things at once ? If, however, it causes it to be every thing, and the multitude of it is suffi¬ cient to itself through the presence of the one , and if also it is evidently effective of essence and self- sufficiency, it will not be essence, but beyond this, and beyond self-sufficiency. Is what we have said therefore sufficient, or is the soul yet parturient with something else, and in a still greater degree ? Perhaps, therefore, it is requisite that the soul should now become impelled towards the one , being filled with parturient conceptions about it. Again, however, let us try if we cannot find a certain charm for this parturiency. Perhaps, indeed, he will accomplish this, who frequently enchants him¬ self from wffiat has now been said. What other new* enchantment, therefore, as it were, is there ? For the charm which runs above all realities, and above the truths which we participate, immediately translation of Ficinus is, “ turn etiam quia sufficientia huic ex cunctis accumulata pendct cxtrinsecus.” 452 liies away from him who wishes to speak of and energize discursively about the one ; since it is necessary that the dianoetic power, in order that it may speak of any thing, should assume another and another thing. For thus there will be a dis¬ cursive energy. In that, however* which is per¬ fectly simple, there is nothing 1 discursive ; but it is sufficient to come into contact with it intellec¬ tually. That, however, which comes into contact with it, when it is in contact, is neither able to say any thing, nor has leisure to speak ; but afterwards [when it falls off from this contact] reasons about it. Then also it is requisite to believe that we have seen it, when the soul receives a sudden light. For this light is from him, and is him. And then it is proper to think that he is present, when like another God entering into the house of some one who invokes him, he fills it with splendour/ For * It is necessary here to supply ov. A Plotinus, in what he here says, doubtless alludes to the following lines in the 19th book of the Odyssey, when Ulysses and Telemachus remove the weapons out of the armory : • - — 7 rapoiOe be XlaXXcts Αθηγη, γρνσεον \υχνον eyovaa, (paos π epucaWes οποίοι* Tore Ύηλομαχοε πρ οσοφωνοον ον πατορ cu\pa9 453 unless he entered, he would not illuminate it. And thus the soul would be without light, and without the possession of this God. But when illuminated, it has that which it sought for. This likewise is the true end to the soul, to come into contact with his light, and to behold him through it; not by the light of another thing ; but to perceive that very thing itself through which it sees. For that A ω 7 τατερ, η μεγα θανμα rob ’ οφθαΧμοισίν ορωμαί ’ εμπης μοί τοιγοι μεγάρων, καΧαι τε μεσούμαί, ειΧατιναι τε boKoi, και κίονες νψοσ εχοντες ψαινοντ οφθαΧμοις ωσει πνρος αιθομενοίο. η μαΧα τις θεός evhov , ol ονρανον ευρυν εχονσι* τον δ’απαμειβομενος προσεφη ποΧνμητις Οδυσσενς, σιγά, καί κατα σον νοον ίσγανε, μηΧ ερεεινε. αντη τοι δίκη εστι θεών οι ΟΧνμι τον εγονσίν. ί. ec “ Minerva preceded them, having a golden lamp, with which she produced a very beautiful light; on perceiving which, Telemachus thus immediately addressed his father : O father, this is certainly a most admirable thing which pre¬ sents itself to my eyes. For the walls of the house, the beau» tiful spaces between the rafters, the hr beams, and the columns, appear to me to rise in radiance, as if on fire. Certainly some one of the Gods is present who inhabit the extended heaven. But the wise Ulysses thus answered him : Be silent, repress your intellect, and do not speak. For this is the custom of the Gods who dwell in Olympus." Homer, therefore, indicates by this, that to the reception of divine illumination, silence, and a cessation of all mental energy, are requisite. 454 through which it is illuminated, is the very thing which it is necessary to behold. For neither do we see the sun through any other than the solar light. How, therefore, can this be accomplished ? By an ablation of all things. 455 THAT THE NATURE WHICH IS BEYOND BEING IS NOT INTELLECTIVE ; J AND WHAT THAT IS WHICH IS PRIMARILY, AND ALSO THAT WHICH IS SECONDARILY, INTELLECTIVE, o ιέ kind of intelligence is the intellectual percep¬ tion of another thing, but another is the perception of a thing by itself, or when a thing perceives it¬ self ; the latter of which flies in a greater degree from duplicity, or doubleness in intellection. But the former wishes also to avoid this diversity, but is less able to accomplish its wish. For it has indeed with itself that which it sees, but it is different from itself. That, however, which intellectually per¬ ceives itself, is not separated essentially from the object of its perception, but being co-existent with it sees itself. Both, therefore, become one being* 456 Hence it perceives in a greater degree because it possesses that which it perceives. It is also pri¬ marily intellective, because that which perceives intellectually ought to be both one and two. For if it is not one, that which perceives will be one thing, and that which is intellectually perceived another. Hence it will not be primarily intellec¬ tive, because in consequence of receiving the intel¬ lectual perception of another thing, it will not pos¬ sess that which it perceives, as something belong¬ ing to itself ; so that the thing perceived v\ ill not be the perceiver itself. Or if it should possess it as itself, in order that it may properly perceive in¬ tellectually, two things will be one. Hence it is necessary that both should be one. Or if there is indeed one thing, but again, this one does not con¬ sist of two things, it will not possess intelligence ; so that neither will it perceive intellectually. Hence it is necessary that the nature which is in¬ tellective should be simple and at the same time not simple. He, however, who ascends from soul will in a greater degree apprehend that an intellective na¬ ture is a thing of this kind. For here [i. e. in soul] it is easy to divide, and duplicity may here be easily perceived. If some one, therefore, should make a 457 twofold lights soul, indeed, according to the less pure, but the intelligible of it according to the purer light, and afterwards should cause that which sees to be a light equal to that which is seen, not having any further occasion to separate by differ¬ ence, — he who does this, will admit that these two are one. And this perceives intellectually, in¬ deed, because it is two things ; but it sees because it is now’ one thing. Thus, therefore, such a one will apprehend intellect and the intelligible. Hence we, by a reasoning process, have made two things from one. On the contrary, however, it is two things from one, because it intellectually perceives, making itself to be two ; or rather being two be¬ cause it intellectually perceives ; and because it is one thing [being intellective.] • « II. If, therefore, there is that which is primarily intellective, and also that which is after another manner [i. e. secondarily] intellective, that w’hich is beyond the first intelligent nature, will not perceive intellectually. For it is necessary that it should become intellect in order that it may have intellec¬ tual perception. But being intellect it will also have the intelligible. And if it is primarily intel¬ lective, it will have the intelligible in itself. It is 458 not, however, necessary that whatever is intelligible should have that which is intellective in itself, and perceive intellectually. For in this case, it will not only be intelligible, but also intellective. But be¬ ing two things it will not be that which is first. Intellect, likewise, which possesses the intelligible, could not subsist without the existence of an essence which is purely intelligible ; and which with respect to intellect, indeed, will be intelligible, but with reference to itself will be properly neither intellective, nor intelligible. For that which is in¬ telligible, is intelligible to another thing. And intellect which darts itself forward by intelligence would have a vacuum, unless it received and com¬ prehended in itself the intelligible which it intellec¬ tually perceives. For it is not intellective without the intelligible. Hence it is then perfect when it possesses the intelligible. It is necessary, how¬ ever, prior to its perceiving intellectually, that it should have with itself a perfect essence. Hence, that with which the perfect is essentially 1 present, will be perfect prior to intellectual perception. To this, therefore, nothing of intellectual perception is 1 There is an omission in the original here of κατ ονσιαν , but both the sense and the version of Ficinus require it should be inserted. 459 necessary. For prior to this it is sufficient to itself. Hence it does not perceive intellectually. There is, therefore, that which is not intellective ; there is also that which is primarily intellective ; and there is that which is intellective in a secondary degree. Farther still, if that which is first per- ceives intellectually, something is present with it. Hence it is not the first, but that which is second. It is also not one, but is now' 1 many ; and is all such things as it intellectually perceives. For if it only intellectually perceived itself, it would be many.* III. If, however, it should be said, that nothing hinders this same thing which is the first from being 1 For εώη here, it is necessary to read ηδη, r The intelligible is prior to intelligence; for the former is characterized by essence , but the latter by intellect . And be¬ ing is prior to intellect. The intelligible, however, contains in itself intellect causally. Hence it has a knowledge which is beyond intellect. Much more, therefore, is the ineffable prin¬ ciple of things, who is beyond the intelligible, above the pos¬ session of intellectual perception. For his knowledge like his nature is more impartible than every centre, and more ineffa¬ ble than all silence. For it is, if it be lawful so to speak, a darkness which transcends all gnostic illumination. Hence by energizing about it, knowledge is refunded into ignorance. 460 many, we reply that in these many there will be a subject. For it is not possible for the many to subsist, unless the one exists, from which, or in which they subsist ; or in short, unless there is a one which is prior to other things that are num¬ bered among themselves, and which it is necessary to receive itself in itself alone. But if it subsists in conjunction with other things, it is necessary having received this wdth other things, but wThich at the same time is different from them, that we should suffer it to be with other things, but that we should also investigate this subject, no longer in conjunc¬ tion with other things of which it is the subject, but itself by itself. For that which is the same in other things, will indeed be similar to this , but will not be this.' It is necessary, however, that it should be alone, if it is to be seen in other things, unless it should be said that the being of it has its hypo¬ stasis in conjunction with other things. Hence, there will not be that which is itself simple ; nor will there be that which is composed of many a For the imparticipable or exempt one, is not consubsistent with any thing, but the participable one is consubsistent cither with being, or life, or intellect, or soul, or body. See nty translation of Proclus’ Elements of Theology. 46 1 things. For since that which is simple has no subsistence, neither will that which is a composite of many things subsist. For because each simple thing is unable to exist, no one certain simple thing subsisting from itself, hence since that which is multitudinous is not able to have an hypostasis by itself, nor to impart itself to another thing, because / it has no existence, how7 can there be that which is composed of all things, when it must consist of non¬ entities, which are not merely negations of a cer¬ tain thing, but have no subsistence whatever? If, therefore, a certain thing is multitude, it is necessary there should be one prior to the many . Hence, if that which is intellective is a certain multitude, it is necessary that there should not be intellectual perception in that which is not 1 multitude. This, however, is the first [principle of things]. In the natures, therefore, posterior to it, there will be intellectual perception and intellect. IV. Farther still, if it is necessary that the good should be simple and iinindigent, it will not be in want of intellectual perception. But that which is 1 μη is omitted in the original. 4 62 not necessary to it, will not be present with it; since, in short, nothing is present with it. Intellec¬ tual perception, therefore, will not be inherent in it, because neither will any thing else. Besides, intellect is something different from the good. For it becomes b on i form by the intellectual perception of the good . Again, as in two things wfoere there is one and another thing, it is not possible for this one which subsists in conjunction with something else to be the one itself ’ but it is necessary that the one which is one by itself, should be prior to that which is with another ; thus also it is necessary, that where a certain one which is in a certain re¬ spect simple subsists in conjunction with another thing, there should prior to it be the one which is perfectly simple, and which has nothing in itself of the things contained in that which subsists in con¬ junction with others. For wdience could one thing be in another, unless prior to these that had a separate subsistence, from which the thing that is another is derived ? For that which is simple, can¬ not be derived from another. But that which is multitudinous or two, must necessarily be suspend¬ ed from another thing. Hence, that which is first may be assimilated to light ; that which is next to 463 it, to the sun ; but that which is the third, to the moon, deriving light from the sun. For soul, in¬ deed, has an adventitious intellect, which, as soul is of an intellectual nature, colours it [with a light derived from the good]. Intellect, however, con¬ tains in itself an appropriate light of its own ; for it is not light alone, but that which is illuminated essentially. But that which imparts this light, since it is not any thing else, is a simple light, affording to intellect the power of existing that which it is. Why, therefore, should this simple light be in want of any thing? For it is not the same with that which is in another ; since that which is in another is different from that which subsists itself by itself. V. Farther still, that which is multitudinous will seek itself, and will wish to verge to and be co-sentient of itself. Where, however, will that \ which is entirely one proceed to itself? And where will it be in want of co-sensation? For this same thing is more excellent than all co-sensation and intellection. For intellectual perception is not the / first of things, either with respect to existence, or dignity of nature ; but it is the second thing, and 464 generated posterior to the subsistence of the good . As soon as generated, also, it moved itself towards the good . But being moved towards, it also knew it. And intellectual perception is this , viz. a mo¬ tion towards the good , and an aspiration after it . For desire generated intelligence, and is consub- sistent with it. For sight is the desire of seeing. The good , therefore, is not at all in want of intel¬ lectual perception. For there is not any thing else beside itself which is the good of it ; since when that also which is different from the good intellec¬ tually perceives it, it does this in consequence of being boniform, and possessing a similitude to the good . It likewise intellectually perceives that which it sees, as good and desirable to itself ; and in consequence of receiving as it were the imagina¬ tion of good. And if it is always thus affected, it is always this [i. e. it is always boniform]. For again, in the intellection of itself, it accidentally perceives the good. For looking to the good, it intellectually sees it, and also sees itself energizing. But the energy of all things is directed to the good , VI. If, therefore, these things are rightly asserted, intelligence will have no place whatever 465 in the good. For the good which is present with an intellective1 nature is different from the good itself. Hence the good is unenergetic. For why is it necessary that energy should energize ? For in short, no energy whatever has again energy. But if to other energies 'which are directed to ano¬ ther thing, we attribute something else, it is how¬ ever necessary, that the first energy from which other energies are suspended, should be that very thing which it is, and that nothing else should be added to it. An energy, therefore, of this kind is not intellectual perception. For it does not possess that which it intellectually perceives ; since it is i the first energy. In the next place, neither does intelligence intellectually perceive, but that which possesses intelligence. Again, therefore, two things take place in that which perceives intellectually. But that which is first is by no means two. Far¬ ther still, the truth of this may be seen in a still greater degree by him who considers how this two¬ fold nature subsists in every thing which is more clearly intellective. For we say, indeed, that be- 2 instead of to row n in this place, it is necessary to read ?{t) roovvn . Plot. 2 G 466 irigs as beings, that each thing itself [by itself,] and truly existing beings, are in the intelligible place ; and this not merely because some things abide in¬ variably the same in essence, but others, and these are such as are in the sensible region, continually flow and are not permanent.1 For perhaps there are some things in sensibles of a permanent nature. But we assert this of intelligibles, because they possess the perfection of existence. For it is ne¬ cessary that the essence which is primarily so call¬ ed, should not be the shadow’ of existence, but should have the fulness of being. Existence, how¬ ever, is then full, when it receives the form of intel¬ lectual perception, and of life. Hence, in [real] being, to perceive intellectually, to live, and to exist, are consubsistent. If, therefore, it is being, it is also intellect, and if it is intellect it is being. And intellectual perception is simultaneous with existence. Hence, to perceive intellectually is many things, and not one thing. It is necessary, therefore, that with the nature w hich is not a thing of this kind, there should not be intellectual per¬ ception. Hence, among the several forms con- V tained in true beings, there are man, and the intel- 1 Instead of ov yevei here, it is necessary to read ου /ue^et. 467 lectual perception1 of man ; horse, and the intel¬ lectual perception of horse ; the just, and the intel¬ lection of the just. Hence too, all things there are double, and the one is two. And again, two passes into one. But that which is the first of things is not either of these ; nor does it consist of all the things which are two; nor is it, in short, two. It has been, however, elsewhere shown by us, how two derives its subsistence from the one . But since the one is beyond essence, it is also be¬ yond intellectual perception. There will be no absurdity therefore, in asserting that the one does not know itself. For being one it does not possess with itself that which it may learn. But neither is it necessary that it should know other things. For it imparts to them something better and greater than the knowledge of them ; and this is the good of other things. But it rather imparts to them the ability, as much as possible, of coming into con¬ tact with it in the same thing. 1 It is requisite here, to supply tli£ words ανύρωπον νοησ is και» 468 ON THE GOOD* OR THE ONE· I. All beings are beings through the one , both Such as are primarily beings, and such as in any respect whatever are said to be classed in the order of beings. For what would they be, if they were not one? For if deprived of unity, they are no longer that which they were said to be. For neither would an army, or a choir exist [as such], unless each of them was one. Nor would a herd exist, if it were not one. But neither would a house or a ship have an existence, unless they pos¬ sessed the one ; since a house is one thing, and also a ship, which one if they lose, the house will no longer be a house, nor the ship a ship. Con¬ tinued magnitudes, therefore, unless the one is pre¬ sent with them, will not have an existence. Hence, when they are divided, so far as they lose the one , 469 they change their existence. The bodies, also, of plants and animals, each of which is one, if they fly from the one , in consequence of being broken into multitude, lose the essence which they before pos¬ sessed, no longer being that which they were, but becoming instead of it other things, and continuing to be these so long as they are one. Health, like¬ wise, then has a subsistence, when the body is congregated into one [i. e. when it possesses sym¬ metry], and beauty then flourishes when the nature of the one coniines 'the parts of the body. Virtue also exists in the soul when the soul tends to unity, and is united in one concord. Since, therefore, the soul conducts all things to one, by fabricating, fashioning, forming and co-arranging them, is it necessary to assert when we have arrived as far as to soul, that she supplies the one , and that she is the one itself? Or must we not say, that as when she imparts other things to bodies, such as morphe and form, it is not herself which she imparts, but things different from herself, thus also it is requisite to think if she imparts the one, that she imparts it as something different from herself ; and that look¬ ing to the one , she causes each of her productions to be one, in the same manner as looking to man^ 470 she fabricates man, assuming together with mao the one contained in man.1 For of the things which are denominated one, each is in such a man¬ ner one as is the being which it possesses/ So that things which are in a less degree beings, pos¬ sess in a less degree the one ; but those that have more of entity have also more of the one . More~ over, soul being different from the one , possesses more of it in proportion as it is more truly soul, yet is not the one itself, \ For soul is one, and in a certain respect the one which it possesses is an accident. And these are two things, soul and one, in the same manner as body and one. That indeed which is discrete multitude, as a choir, is more re¬ mote from the oney but that which is continuous is nearer to it. But soul which has more alliance with, participates more abundantly of the one . If, how'ever, because soul cannot exist unless it is one, x The original here is defective, which deficiency may be supplied from the version of Ficinus, by reading ωσι rep και v pos άνθρωπον βλεπονσαν άνθρωπόν δημωνργει, instead of ώσ¬ περ και πρθ5 άνθρωπον άνθρωπον. % i. e. The nature of its being depends on the nature of the unity which it participates ; so that its being is more or less excellent according as this unity partakes in » greater or less degree of the one itself* 471 it should , be said that soul and the one are the same, we reply in the first place, that other things also are what they are in conjunction with being one, but at the same time the one is different from them. For body and one are not the same ; but body participates of the one . In the next place, each soul is a multitude, though it does not consist of parts. For there are many powers in it, viz. those of reasoning, appetition, and apprehension, which are connected by unity as by a bond. Soul, therefore, being itself one imparts the one to other things. But she also suffers [i. e. participates] this one from something else. II. Shall we say, therefore, that in each of the things which subsist according to a part, the essence of it and the one are not the same ? In true being indeed, and true essence, essence, being, and the one , are the same. So that he who dis¬ covers being in these, will also discover the one , and will find that essence itself is the one itself \ Thus, for instance, if essence is intellect, the one also is here intellect, viz. an intellect which is pri¬ marily being, and primarily one. And when it imparts existence to other things, thus, and so far 472 as it imparts this, it also imparts the one . For what else besides intellect and being, can the one of these be said to be ? For either the one is the same with being, as a man is the same thing as one man ; or it is as a certain number of each thing, as when you speak of a certain two. And thus the one is asserted of a certain thing alone. If, there¬ fore, number pertains to beings, it is evident that the one also pertains to them : and what it is must be investigated. But if the one is nothing more than the energy of the soul attempting to number, the one will have no existence in things themselves. Reason however has said, that whatever loses the one , loses entirely at the same time its existence. It is necessary, therefore, to consider whether each thing that has a being, and each thing that is one are the same, and whether in short, being and the one are the same. If, however, the being of each thing is multitude, but it is impossible for the one to be multitude, each of these will be different from the other. Man, therefore, is an animal, is rational, and has many parts, and this multitude is bound together by unity. Hence, man is one thing, and unity another ; since the former is partible, but the latter impartible. Moreover, being which ranks as 473 a whole, and contains all beings in itself, will rather be many beings [than one], and will be different from the one. But by assumption and participa¬ tion, it will possess the one. Being, likewise, has life and intellect : for it is not deprived of life. Hence, being is many things. If also it is intel¬ lect, it is thus again necessary that it should be multitudinous ; and this in a still greater degree, if it comprehends in itself forms or ideas. For idea is not unity, but is rather number. And this is true both of each idea, and of that which is all ideas collectively. Idea, likewise, is in such a manner one, as the world is one. In short, the one is the first of things, but intellect, forms, and being are not the first. For each form consists of many things, and is a composite, and posterior. For those things from which each form consists have a priority of subsistence. But that it is not possible that intellect can be the first of things, is evident from the following considerations. It is necessary that intellect should consist in intellectual perception ; and that the most excellent intellect, and which does not look to what is external to, should intellectually perceive that which is prior to itself. For being converted to itself, it is [at tbf 474 same time] converted to the principle of itself And if indeed it is both intellective and intelligible, it will be twofold and not simple, and therefore not the one. But if it looks to something different from itself, it will entirely look to that which is more excellent than, and prior to itself. If, however, it both looks to itself, and to that w'hich is better than itself, it will thus also be secondary. And it is requisite to admit that such an intellect as this, is present indeed with the good , and with that which is first, and that it beholds it. It likewise associates with, and intellectually perceives itself, and knows that it is itself all things. By no means, therefore, since it is thus various, is it the one. Neither,, therefore, will the one be all things ; * since if it were, it would no longer be the one . * It is well observed by Damascius in his MS. treatise r epi αρχών, that neither the one nor all things accords in reality with the nature of the one . For these are opposed to each other, and distribute our conceptions. For if we look to the simple and the one , we destroy its immensely great perfection : and if we conceive all things subsisting together, we abolish the one and thesimple. But this is because we are divided, and look to divided peculiarities. In short, so far as it is the one , it is exempt from all things, and is without any multi¬ tude ; but so far as it is the principle of all things, it is all things prior to all. Nor is it intellect. For thus it would be all things ; intellect being all things. Nor is it being. For being likewise is all things. III. What then will the one be ; and what nature will it possess ? Or may we not say that it is not at all wonderful, it should not be easy to tell what it is, since neither is it easy to tell what being is, or what form is. But our knowledge is fixed in forms. When, however, the soul directs its atten¬ tion to that wdiich is formless, then being unable to comprehend that which is not bounded, and as it were impressed with forms by a former of a various nature, it falls from the apprehension of it, and is afraid it will possess [nothing from the view]. Hence, it becomes weary in endeavours of this kind, and gladly descends from the survey fre¬ quently falling from all things, till it arrives at something sensible, and as it were rests in a solid substance ; just as the sight also, when wearied with the perception of small objects, eagerly con¬ verts itself to such as are large. When, however, the soul wishes to perceive by itself, and sees itself alone, then in consequence of being one with the object of its perception, it does not think that it 476 yet possesses that which it investigates, because it is not different from that which it intellectually perceives. At the same time, it is requisite that he should act in this manner, who intends to phi¬ losophize about the one. Since, therefore, that which we investigate is one, and we direct our attention to the principle of all things, to the good, and the first, we ought not to be far removed from the natures which are about the first of things, nor fall from them to the last of all things, but pro¬ ceeding to such as are first, we should elevate our¬ selves from sensibles which have an ultimate sub¬ sistence. The soul, likewise, should for this pur¬ pose be liberated from all vice, in consequence of hastening to the [vision of the] good ; and should ascend to the principle which is in herself, and become one instead of many things, in order that she may survey the principle 1 of all things, and the one . Hence it is requisite, that the soul of him who ascends to the good should then become intel¬ lect, and that he should commit his soul to, and establish it in intellect, in order, that what intellect; * For αρχήν here, it is necessary to read αρχ ψ ; and it is also requisite to alter the punctuation conformably to tbs above translation. 477 sees, his soul may vigilantly receive, and may ihrough intellect survey the one; not employing apy^oneof the Senses, nor receiving any thing from them, but with a pure intellect, and with the sum¬ mit [and as it were, flower] qf intellect, beholding that which is most pure. When, therefore, he who applies himself to the survey of a thing of this kind, imagines that there is either magnitude, or figure, or bulk about this nature, he lias not intellect for the leader of the vision ; because intellect is not naturally adapted to perceive things of this kind, but such an energy is the energy of sense, and of opinion following sense. But in order to perceive the one , it is necessary to receive from intellect a declaration of what intellect is able to accomplish. Intellect, however, is able to see either things prior to itself, or things pertaining to itself, or things effected by itself. And the things indeed contained in itself, are pure; but those prior to itself are still purer and more simple ; or rather this must be asserted of that which is prior to it. Hence, that which is prior to it, is not intellect, but something more excellent. For intellect is a certain one among the number of beings ; but that is not a certain one, but is prior to every thing. Nor is it 478 being ; for being has, as it were, the form of the one.1 But that is formless, and is even without intelligible form. For the nature of the one being generative of all things, is not any one of them. Neither, therefore, is it a certain thing, nor a qua· lity, nor a quantity, nor intellect, nor soul, nor that which is moved, nor again that which stands stiH. Nor is it in place, or in time ; but is by itself uni¬ form, or rather without form, being prior to all form, to motion and to permanency. For these subsist about being which also cause it to be mul¬ titudinous. Why, however, if it is not moved, does it not stand still ? Because it is necessary that one or both of these should subsist about being. And that which stands still, stands still through permanency, and is not the same with it. Hence permanency is accidental to it, and it no longer remains simple. For when we say that the one is the cause of all things, we do not predicate any thing as an accident to it, but rather as something which happens to us, because we possess something 8 Instead of του ovros here, it is necessary to read τον eyes. For it is absurd to suppose Plotinus would say, that being has as it were the form of being , and yet Ficinus so translates it ; if Nam ens velut for mam ipsam entis habet.” 479 4 from it, the ant in the mean time subsisting in itself. It is necessary, however, when speaking accurately of the one , neither to call it that , nor this. But we running as it were externally round it, are desirous of explaining the manner in which vre are affected about it. And at one time, indeed, we draw near to it, but at another time fall from it, by our doubts about it. IV. In this affair, however, a doubt especially arises, because the perception of the highest God is not effected by science, nor by intelligence, like other intelligibles, but by the presence of him, which is a mode of knowledge superior to that of science. But the soul suffers an apostacy from the one , and is not entirely one when it receives scien¬ tific knowledge. For science is reason, and «reason is multitudinous. The soul, therefore, in this case, deviates from the one, and falls into number and multitude. Hence it is necessary to run above science, and in no respect to depart from a subsis¬ tence which is profoundly one ; but it is requisite to abandon science, the objects of science, every other thing, and every beautiful spectacle. For 480 fcvery thing beautiful is posterior to the supreme* and is derived from him, in the same manner as all diurnal light is derived from the sun. Hence Plato says, he is neither effable, nor to be described by writing. We speak however, and write about him, extending ourselves to him, and exciting others by a reasoning process to the vision of him ; pointing out, as it were, the way to him w ho wishes to behold something [of his ineffable nature]. For doctrine extends as far as to the way and the progression to him. But the vision of him is now the work of one who is solicitous to perceive him. He, however, will not arrive at the vision of him, and will not be affected by the sur¬ vey, nor w ill have in himself as it w^ere an amatory passion from the viewr, (which passion causes the lover to rest in the object of his love) nor receive from it a true light, which surrounds the whole soul with its splendor, in consequence of becoming nearer to it ; he, I say, will not behold this light, who attempts to ascend to the vision of the supreme while he is drawn dow nwards by those things which are an impediment to the vision. He will likewise not ascend by himself alone, but will be accom¬ panied by that which will divulse him from the onet 481 or rather he will not be himself collected into one* For the one is not absent from any thing, and yet is separated from all things ; so that it is present* and yet not present with them. But it is present with those things that are able, and are prepared to receive it, so that they become congruous, and as it were pass into contact with it, through simili¬ tude and a certain inherent power allied to that which is imparted by the one . When, therefore, the soul is disposed in such a w>ay as she was when she came from the one , then she is able to perceive it, as far as it is naturally capable of being seen. He, therefore, who has not yet arrived thither* but either on account of the abovementioned obstacle is deprived of this vision, or through the want of reason which may conduct him to it, and impart faith respecting it ; such a one may consider him¬ self as the cause of his disappointment through these impediments, and should endeavour by sepa¬ rating himself from all things to be alone. But with respect to arguments in the belief of which he is deficient* he should conceive as follows : V. Whoever fancies that beings are governed by fortune and chance* and are held together by corpo- Plot, 2 H 482 real causes, is very remote from God, and the con¬ ception of the one . Our arguments, likewise, are not addressed to these, but to those who admit that there is another nature besides bodies, and who ascend [at least] as far as to soul. It is necessary, therefore, that these should be well acquainted with the nature of soul, both as to other things, and to its being derived from intellect ; from which also parti¬ cipating of reason, it possesses virtue. After these things, however, he should admit the subsistence of another intellect, different from that which reasons, and which is denominated rational. He should likew ise consider reasonings to subsist now as it were in interval and motion, and sciences to be such-like reasons in the soul, with an [evolved] and manifest subsistence ; in consequence of intellect which is the cause of sciences being now infused into the soul. Hence in this ease, the soul has as it were a sensible perception of intellect, through apprehend¬ ing it incumbent on soul, and containing in itself the intelligible world, a tranquil intellect, and a quiet motion, and having and being all things, — a multitude without separation, and again a separate multitude. For it is neither separated like the reasons [i. e, forms or ideas in the human soul] 483 which are perceived by our intellect one at a time/ [and not simultaneously,] nor is it a confused mul¬ titude. For each of the forms contained in it pro¬ ceeds separate from the rest ; in the same manner as in the sciences, where all things subsisting in an impartible nature, at the same time each is separate from the rest. This multitude, therefore, subsisting at once is the intelligible world, which is imme- diately united to the first principle of things, and which the same reason that demonstrates the exist¬ ence of soul says has a necessary subsistence. This, however, has a more principal subsistence than soul, yet is not the first of things, because it is not [profoundly] one, and simple. But the onei and the principle of all things, is simple. Hence that which is prior to the most honourable thing among beings/ if it is necessary there should be 1 In the original, owe γαρ διακεκριται ως οι Χογοι οι ηδη καθ' εν νοούμενοι , which Ficinus not understanding has erroneously translated as follows: “ Neque enim discernitur sicut rationes in probatione solcnt, sed tanquam rationes jam secundum unum quiddam excogitante." For the human intellect perceives only one form or idea at a time ; but a divine intellect sees all forms at once. 1 Instead of το δη ττρο τον εν τοι$ ου δ' τιμιωτατον here, it is necessary to read το δη ττρο τον cv rois ονσιν τιμιωτατον* 484 - r something prior to intellect, which wishes indeed to be one, yet is not one, but has the form of one, be-6 cause intellect is not in itself dispersed, but is truly present with itself, and does not, in consequence of its proximity to the one , divulse itself, though in a certain respect it dares to depart from the one that, I say, which is prior to intellect and is the oney is a prodigy, and is not being, lest here also the one should be predicated of another thing, to wffiich no name is in reality adapted. But if it is necessary to give it a name, it may appropriately be called in common one} yet not as being first something else* and afterwards one. It is indeed on this account difficult to be known ; but is principally to be known from its offspring essence. And intellect leads to essence. The nature also of the one is such, that it is the fountain of the most excellent things, and a power generating beings, abiding in itself without diminution, and not subsisting in its progeny. But we denominate it the one from ne^ cessity, in order that we may signify it to each other by a name, and may be led to an impartible con¬ ception, being anxious that our soul may be one.® * Instead of και την ^ν^ην ev ου OeXovres in this place, it is requisite to read και την ψνχην ev eivat OeXovres* 485 We do not, however, here speak of the one and the impartible in such a way as when we speak of a point or the monad. For that which is after this manner one, is the principle of quantity, which could not subsist unless essence had a prior exist¬ ence, and also that which is antecedent to essence* It is necessary therefore to project the dianoetic power to these ; but we should consider the monad and a point as having an analogical similitude to the one , on account of their simplicity, and their dying from multitude and division, VI. How, therefore, can we speak of the onef and how can we adapt it to intellectual concep¬ tion ? Shall we say that this may be accomplished, by admitting that it is more transcendently one than the monad and a point? For in these, in¬ deed, the soul taking away magnitude and the multitude of number, ends in that which is smallest, and fixes itself in a certain thing which is indeed impartible, but which was in a partible nature, and is in something different from itself. But the one is neither in another thing, nor in that which is partible. Nor is it impartible in the same way as that which is smallest. For it is the greatest of all 486 things, not in magnitude, but in power. So that it is without magnitude in power. For the natures also which are [immediately] posterior to it, are im¬ partible in powers, and not in bulk. The prin¬ ciple of all things likewise must be admitted to be infinite, not because he is magnitude or number which cannot be passed over, but because the power of him is incomprehensible.1 For when you conceive him to be intellect or God, lie is more [excellent] than these. And again, when by the dianoetic power you equalize him with the o)ie, or conceive him to be God, by recurring to that which is most united in your intellectual perception, he even transcends these appellations. For he is in himself, nor is any thing accidental to him. By that which is sufficient to itself also the unity of his nature may be demonstrated. For it is neces¬ sary that the principle of all things should be most sufficient both to other things, and to itself, and that it should also be most un-indigent. But every thing which is multitudinous and not one, is indi¬ gent ; since consisting of many things it is not one. Hence the essence of it requires to be one. But 5 For περϊΧηπτφ here, it is necessary to read αχ€ριληπτφ< 487 4 he one is not in want of itself. For it is the one . Moreover, that which is many, is in want of a£ many things as it is. And each of the things that are in it, as it subsists in conjunction with others, and is not in itself, is indigent of other things ; and thus a thing of this kind exhibits indigence, both according to parts and according to the whole. If, therefore, it is necessary there should be something which is most sufficient to itself, it is necessary there should be the one , which alone is a thing of such a kind, as neither to be indigent with reference to itself, nor with reference to another thing.® For it does not seek after any thing in order that it may be, nor in order that it may be in an excellent con¬ dition, nor that it may be there established. For being the cause of existence to other things, and 1 As, however, a thing cannot be said to be a principle or cause without the subsistence of the things of which it is the principle or cause; hence the one , so far as it is a principle or cause, will be indigent of the subsistence of these. “ Indeed,” as Damascius says, “ how is it possible it should not be indigent so far as it is the one ? Just as it is all other things which proceed from it. For the indigent also is something belonging to all things.” Hence there is something even beyond the one , which has no kind of indigence whatever, which is in every respect incapable of being apprehended, and about which we must be perfectly silent. See the Introduction to my Plato, .and jthe additional notes to the 3rd Volume of it. { 488 not deriving that which it is from others, nor its happiness, what addition can be made to it exter¬ nal to itself? Hence its happiness, or the excel¬ lency of its condition, is not accidental to it. For it is itself [all that is sufficient to itself]. There is not likewise any place for it. For it is not in want of a foundation, as if it w ere not able to sustain itself. For that which is established in another thing is inanimate, and a falling mass, if it is with¬ out a foundation. But other tilings are established on account of the one , through w hich also they at the same time subsist, and have the place in which they are arranged. That, however, which seeks after place is indigent. But the principle is not indigent of things posterior to itself. The princi¬ ple, therefore, of all things is unindigent of all things. For that which is indigent, is indigent in consequence of aspiring after its principle. But if the one was indigent of any thing, it would cer¬ tainly seek not to be the one ; so that it would be indigent of its destroyer. Every thing, however, w hich is said to be indigent, is indigent of a good condition, and of that which preserves it. Hence to the one nothing is good, and, therefore, neither is the wish for any thing good to it. But it is super - 489 good . And it is not good to itself, but to other things, which are able to participate of it. Nor does ihe one possess intelligence, lest it should also possess difference ; nor motion. For it is prior to motion, and prior to intelligence. For what is there which it will intellectually perceive ? Shall we say itself? Prior to intellection, therefore, it will be ignorant, and will be in want of intelligence in order that it may know itself, though it is suffi¬ cient to itself. It does not follow, however, that because the one does not know itself, and does not intellectually perceive itself, there will be ignorance in it. For ignorance takes place where there is diversity, and when one thing is ignorant of another. That, however, which is alone neither knows anv thing, nor has any thing of which it is ignorant. But being one, and associating with itself, it docs not require the intellectual perception of itself," since neither is it necessary, in order that you may preserve the one , to adapt to it an association with itself. But it is requisite to take away intellectual perception, an association with itself, and the knowledge of itself, and of other things. For it is not proper to arrange it according to the act of perceiving intellectually, but rather according to 490 intelligence. For intelligence does not perceive intellectually, but is the cause of intellectual per* ception to another thing. Cause, however, is not the same with the thing caused. But the cause of all things is not any one of them. Hence neither must it be denominated that good which it imparts to others ; but it is after another manner the good , in a way transcending other goods. VII. If, however, because it is none of these things, you become indefinite in your decision, in this case establish yourself in the abovementioned particulars, and from these [ascend to] and fix your¬ self in God. But for this purpose you must not extend the dianoetic power outwardly. For God is not in a certain place, so as to desert other things ; but wherever any thing is able to come into contact with him, there he is present. Hence, as in other things, it is not possible to perceive some¬ thing intellectually, while understanding and attend¬ ing to another thing, but it is necessary not to in¬ troduce any thing else to the object of intellectual vision, in order that the perceiver may be the thing itself which is perceived ; — thus also here, it is not possible for the soul to perceive God, while 491 it retains the impression of something else, and energizes according to that impression. Nor again, is it possible for the soul w hile occupied and detained by other things to be impressed with the form of something contrary to them. But as it is said of matter, that it ought to be void of all quali¬ ties, in order that it may receive the impressions of all things ; thus also, and in a much greater degree, it is necessary that the soul should become form¬ less, in order that there may be no impediment to its being filled and illuminated by the first principle of things. If, however, this be the case, it is re¬ quisite that the soul, dismissing all externals, should be entirely converted to its inmost recesses, and should not be called to any thing external, but should be unintellective of all things ; and prior to this indeed, in inclination, but then also it should be without the perception of forms. It is likewise necessary that the soul, being ignorant of herself, should dwell on the contemplation of God, and associating, and as it were sufficiently conversing with him, should announce, if possible, the confer*? ence which it there held to another ; which Minos perhaps having accomplished, was on this account &aid to be the familiar of Jupiter. Calling to 492 » * mind also this conference, he established laws which were the images of it, being filled through the contact with divinity with materials for the institution of law s. Or may we not say that the soul, if she washes to abide on high, will consider political concerns as unworthy to be the subject of conference with deity ? For this indeed will be the language of him who has seen much of divinity. For, as it is said , God is not external to any one , but is present with all things , though they are ignorant that he is so. For they fly from him, or rather from themselves. They are unable, there¬ fore, to apprehend that from wdfich they fly. And having destroyed themselves, they are incapable of seeking after another. For neither will a child, when through insanity he becomes out of himself, recognize his father. But he who knows himself, w ill also know from whence he was derived* VXIL If, therefore, a certain soul has known itself at another time, it wdll also know that its motion is not rectilinear, but that its natural motion is as it w?ere in a circle about a certain thing, not externally, but about a centre. The centre, how¬ ever, is that from which the circle proceeds ; and 493 therefore such a soul will be moved about the source of its existence. It will also be suspended from this, eagerly urging itself towards that to which all soujs ought to hasten. But the souls of the Gods always tend thither ; and by tending to this they are Gods. For whatever is conjoined to this is a God. But that which is very distant from it, is a multitudinous man and a brute. Is, there¬ fore, that in the soul wdiich is as it were a centre, the object of investigation ? Or is it necessary to think that it is something else, in which as it were all centres concur ? This centre, however, and this circle are assumed by us according to analogy, For the soul is not a circle in the same way as a figure ; hut because an ancient nature is in it and about it. And because the soul is suspended from a thing of this kind, and in a still greater degree when it is wholly separated from the body. Now, however, since a part of us is detained by the body ; just as if some one should have his feet in the water, hut with the rest of his body should be above it ;■ — thus also being elevated by that part which is not merged in body, we are conjoined to that which is as it wjere the centre of all things ; after the same manner as we fix the centres of the 494 greatest circles in the centre of the sphere by which they are comprehended. If, therefore, the circles were corporeal and not psychical, they would be conjoined to the centre locally, and the centre being situated in a certain place, the circles would revolve about it. Since, however, these souls are themselves intelligible, and this centre is above in¬ tellect, it must be admitted that this contact is effected by other powers than those by which an intellective nature is adapted to be conjoined to the object of intellectual perception. The contact, also, is greater than that by which intellect is pre¬ sent [with the intelligible] through similitude and sameness, and is conjoined with a kindred nature, nothing intervening to separate the conjunction. For bodies, indeed, are prevented from being united to each other ; but incorporeal natures are not separated from each other by bodies. Hence, one is not distant from the other by place, but by other¬ ness and difference. When, therefore, difference is not present, then the natures which are not dif¬ ferent are present with each other. The principle of all things, therefore, not having any difference, is always present ; but we are present with it when we have no difference. And it indeed does not 4 95 aspire after us, in order that it may be conversant with us ; but we aspire after it, in order that we may revolve about it. We indeed perpetually re¬ volve about it, but we do not always behold it0 As a band of singers, however, though it moves about the coryphaeus, may be diverted to the sur¬ vey of something foreign to the choir, [and thus become discordant], but when it converts itself to him, sings well, and truly subsists about him ; — thus also we perpetually revolve about the prin¬ ciple of all things, even when we are perfectly loosened from it, and have no longer a knowledge of it. Nor do we always look to it ; but when we behold it, then we obtain the end of our wishes, and rest [from our search after felicity]. Then also we are no longer discordant, but form a truly divine dance about it. IX. In this dance, however, the soul beholds the fountain of life, the fountain of intellect, the principle of being, the cause of good, and the root of soul. And these are not poured forth from this fountain, so as to produce in it any diminution. For it is not a corporeal mass ; since if it were, its progeny would be corruptible* But now they are perpetual, because the principle of them abides with invariable sameness ; not being distributed into them, but remaining whole and entire® Hence* they likewise remain, just as if the sun being permanent, light also should be permanent. For we are not cut off from this fountain, nor are we separated from it, though the nature of body inter¬ vening, draws us to itself. But we are animated and preserved by an infusion from thence, this principle not imparting, and afterwards withdraw¬ ing itself from us ; since it always supplies us with being, and always will as long as it continues to be that which it is. Or rather, we are what we are by verging to it. Our well-being also consists in this tendency. And to be distant from it is nothing else than a diminution of existence. Here, like¬ wise, the soul rests, and becomes out of the reach of evils, running back to that place which is free from ill. And here also, she energizes intellec¬ tually, is liberated from perturbations, and lives in reality. For the present life, and which is without God, is a vestige of life, and an imitation of that life which is real. But the life in the intelligible world consists in the energy of intellect. Energy also generates Gods, through a tranquil and quiet £on- 497 tact with the principle of all things. It likewise generates beauty, justice, and virtue. For the soul being filled with deity, brings forth these. And this is both the beginning; and end to the soul. It o o ® * Λ ^ is the beginning indeed, because she originates from thence ; but it is the end, because the good is there, and because when the soul is situated there, she becomes what she was before. For the good which is here, and in sensible concerns, is a lapse, a flight, and a defluxion of the wings of the soul. But that the good is there, is indicated by the love which is connascent with the soul ; conformably to which Love is conjoined in marriage with souls, both in writings and in fables.1 For since the soul is dif¬ ferent from God, but is derived from him, she necessarily loves him, and when she is there she has a celestial love ; but the love which she here possesses is common and vulgar. For in the intel¬ ligible world the celestial Venus reigns ; but here the popular Venus, : * who is as it were meretri- * See my translation of the fable of Cupid and Psyche ; for to this fable Plotinus now evidently alludes. τ The celestial Venus, says Proclus, (in Schol. MSS. in Cratylum), is supermundane, leads upwards to intelligible beauty, is the supplier of an unpolluted life, and separates from generation. But the Venus that proceeds from Dione, Plot. 2 I 498 cions.1 Every soul also is a Venus. And this the nativity of Venus, and Love who w7as born at the same time with her, obscurely signify.2 The soul, therefore, when in a condition conformable to nature, loves God, wishing to be united to him, being as it were the desire of a beautiful virgin to be conjoined with a beautiful Love. When, how¬ ever, the soul descends into generation, then being as it were deceived by [spurious] nuptials, and associating herself with another and a mortal Love, she becomes petulant and insolent through being absent from her father. But when she again hates governs all the co-ordinations in the celestial world and the earth, binds them to each other, and perfects their generative progressions, through a kindred conjunction. He likewise in¬ forms us, that this goddess proceeds from foam, according to Orpheus, as well as the more ancient [or celestial] Venus; and that both proceed from generative powers ; one from that of Heaven, but the other from that of Jupiter the Demiurgus. He adds, that by the sea (from which they rose) we must un¬ derstand an expanded and circumscribed life ; by its profun¬ dity, the universally-extended progression of such a life ; and by the foam, the greatest purity of nature, that which is full of prolific light and power, that which swims upon all life, and is as it were its highest flower. 1 Plotinus says this, looking to the illegitimate participa¬ tions of this Venus by mankind. a See the speech of Diotima in the Banquet of Plato. 499 terrene wantonness and injustice, and becomes purified from the defilements which are here, and again returns to her father, then she is affected in the most felicitous manner. And those indeed w ho are ignorant of this affection, may from terrene love form some conjecture of divine love, by consi¬ dering how great a felicity the possession of a most beloved object is conceived to be ; and also by considering that these earthly objects of love are mortal and noxious, that the love of them is nothing more than the love of images, and that they lose their attractive power because they are not truly desirable, nor our real good, nor that which we investigate. In the intelligible world, however, the true object of love is to be found, with which we may be conjoined, which we may participate, and truly possess, and which is not externally enveloped with flesh. He however who knows this , will know what I say , and will be convinced that the soul V · has then another life. The soul also proceeding to, and having now arrived at the desired end, and participating of deity, will know that the supplier of true life is then present. She will likewise then require nothing farther ; for on the contrary, it will be requisite to lay aside other things, to stop in 500 this alone, and to become this alone, amputating every thing else with which she is surrounded. Hence, it is necessary to hasten our departure from hence, and to be indignant that we are bound in one part of our nature, in order that with the whole of our [true] selves, we may fold ourselves about divinity, and have no part void of contact with him. When this takes place therefore, the soul will both see divinity and herself, as far as it is lawful for her to see him. And she will see her¬ self indeed illuminated, and full of intelligible light ; or rather, she will perceive herself to be a pure light, unburthened, agile, and becoming to be a God, or rather being a God, and then shining forth as such to the view.1 But if she again be¬ comes heavy, she then as it were wastes away. * Hence Aristotle in his Politics also says, that he who sur¬ passes beyond all comparison the rest of his fellow-citizens in virtue, ought to be considered as a God among men. He also observes, that such a one is no longer a part of the city, that law is not for him, since he is a law to himself, and that it would be ridiculous in any one to subject him to the laws. Let no one, however, who Js not thus transcendently virtuous, fancy that law also is not for him ; for this fancy in such a one is not only idle, but if not suppressed may lead to sedition, and the destruction of himself and others. In short, the man who has not completely subdued his passions, is so far from 501 X. How does it happen, therefore, that the soul does not abide there ? Is it not because she has not yet wholly migrated from hence ? But she will then, when her vision of deity possesses an uninterrupted continuity, and she is no longer im¬ peded or disturbed in her intuition by the body. That however which sees divinity, is not the thing which is disturbed, but something else ; when that which perceives him is at rest from the vision. But it is not then at rest according to a scientific energy, which consists in demonstrations, in credi¬ bilities, and a discursive process of the soul. For here vision, and that which sees, are no longer reason, but greater than and prior to reason. And in reason, indeed, they are as that is which is per¬ ceived. He therefore who sees himself, will then, when he sees, behold himself to be such a thing as this, or rather he will be present with himself thus disposed, and becoming simple, will perceive him¬ self to be a thing of this kind. Perhaps, however, being above law, that, as Proclus well observes, “ the universe uses him as a brute." Observe, too, that when Plotinus calls the man who is able in this life to see divinity a God, he means that he is a God only according to similitude ; for in this way, men transcendently wise and good are called by Plato, Gods and divine. 502 neither must it be said that he sees, but that he is the thing seen ; if it is necessary to call these two things, i. e. the perceiver and the thing perceived. But both are one ; 1 though it is bold to assert this. Then, indeed, the soul neither sees, nor distin¬ guishes by seeing, nor imagines that there are two things ; but becomes as it were another thing, and not itself. Nor does that which pertains to itself contribute any thing there. But becoming wholly absorbed in deity, she is one, conjoining as it were centre with centre. For here concurring, they are one ; but they are then two when they are separate. For thus also we now denominate that which is another. Hence this spectacle is a thing difficult to explain by words. For how can any one nar¬ rate that as something different, from himself, which when he sees he does not behold as dif¬ ferent, but as one with himself? XI. This, therefore, is manifested by the man¬ date of the mysteries, which orders that they shall not be divulged to those who are uninitiated. For as that which is divine cannot be unfolded to the 1 From the conclusion of this section, it is evident that in¬ stead of αλλα μη , in this place, we should read αλλα μην . 503 multitude, this mandate forbids the attempt to elucidate it to any one but him who is fortunately able to perceive it. Since, therefore, [in this con- * junction with deity] there were not two things, but the perceiver was one with the thing perceived, as not being [properly speaking] vision but union; whoever becomes one by mingling with deity, and afterwards recollects this union, will have with himself an image of it. But he was also himself one, having with respect to himself no difference, nor with respect to other things. For then there was not any thing excited with him who had ascended thither ; neither anger, nor the desire of any thing else, nor reason, nor a certain intellec¬ tual perception, nor, in short, was even he himself moved, if it be requisite also to assert this ; but being as it were in an ecstacy, or energizing enthu¬ siastically, he became established in quiet and soli¬ tary union, not at all deviating from his own essence, nor revolving about himself, but being en¬ tirely stable, and becoming as it were stability itself. Neither was he then excited by any thing beautiful ; but running above the beautiful, he passed beyond even the choir of the virtues. Just as if some one having entered into the interior of the adytum should leave behind all the statues m the temple, which on his departure from the adytum will first present themselves to his view, after the inward spectacle, and the association that was there, which was not with a statue or an image, but with the thing itself [which the images repre¬ sent], and which necessarily become the second objects of his perception. Perhaps, however, this was not a spectacle, but there was another mode of vision, viz. ecstacy, and an expansion and acces¬ sion of himself, a desire of contact, rest, and a striving after conjunction, in order to behold what the adytum contains. But nothing will be present with him who beholds in any other way. The wise prophets, therefore, obscurely signified by these imitations how this [highest] God is seen. But the wise priest understanding the enigma, and having entered into the adytum, obtains a true vision of what is there. If, however, he has not entered, he will conceive this adytum to be a cer¬ tain invisible thing, and will have a knowledge of the fountain and principle, as the principle of things. But when situated there, he will see the principle, and will be conjoined with it, by a union of like with like, neglecting nothing divine which 505 the soul is able to possess. Prior to the vision also it requires that which remains from the vision· But that which remains to him who passes beyond all things, is that which is prior to all things. For the nattlfe of the soul will never accede to that which is entirely non-being. But proceeding in¬ deed downwards it will fall into evil ; and thus into non-being, yet not into that which is perfect non¬ entity. Running, however, in a contrary direction, it will arrive not at another thing, but at itself. And thus not being in another thing, it is not on that account in nothing, but is in itself. To be in itself alone, however , and not in being , is to be in God . For God also is something which is not essence, but beyond essence. Hence the soul when in this condition associates with him. He, therefore, who perceives himself to associate with God, will have himself the similitude of him. And if he passes from himself as an image to the arche¬ type, he will then have the end of his progression. But when he falls from the vision of God, if he again excites the virtue which is in himself, and perceives himself to be perfectly adorned ; he will again be elevated through virtue, proceeding to in¬ tellect and wisdom, and afterwards to the principle 506 of all things. This, therefore, is the life of the Gods , and of divine and happy men, a liberation from all terrene concerns, a life unaccompanied with human pleasures, and a flight of the alone to the alone P * From this solitary subsistence of the one, the solitariness of all other divine natures is derived, and their ineffable asso¬ ciation with themselves. Hence Plato in the Timaeus says, that the Demiurgus established heaven (i. e. the world) one, only, solitary nature, able through virtue to converse with it¬ self, indigent of nothing external, and sufficiently known and friendly to itself/' Proclus, in his Commentaries on this dia¬ logue, admirably illustrates these words as follows : tc To com¬ prehend the whole blessedness of the world in three appella¬ tions, is most appropriate to that which subsists according to a triple cause, viz. the final, the paradigmatic, and the demiur¬ gic. For of the appellations themselves, the first of them, viz. one , is assumed from the final cause ; for the one is the same with the good. But the second, viz. only , is assumed from the paradigmatic cause. For the only -begotten and only- ness (μονωσ is) were, prior to the universe, in all-perfect animal. And the third, viz. the solitary , is assumed from the demiurgic cause. For the ability of using itself, and through itself go¬ verning the world, proceeds from the demiurgic goodness. The world, therefore, is one, so far as it is united and is converted to the one. But it is only, so far as it participates of the in¬ telligible, and comprehends all things in itself. And it is soli¬ tary , so far as it is similar to its father, and is able to save itself. From the three, however, it appears that it is a God. For the one, the perfect , and the self-sufficient , are the elements of deity. Hence, the world receiving these, is also itself a God; being one indeed, according to hyparxis ; but alone, 507 according to a perfection which derives its completion from all sensible natures ; and solitary through being sufficient to itself. For those that lead a solitary life, being converted to themselves, have the hopes of salvation in themselves. And that this is the meaning of the term solitary , is evident from the words, “ able through virtue to converse with itself, indi¬ gent of nothing external, and sufficiently known and friendly to itself." For in these words Plato clearly manifests what the solitariness is which he ascribes to the world, and that he de¬ nominates that being solitary, who looks to himself, to that with which he is furnished, and to his own proper measure. For those that live in solitary places, are the saviours of them¬ selves, so far as respects human causes. The universe, there¬ fore, is likewise after this manner solitary, as being sufficient to itself, and preserving itself, not through a diminution but from an exuberance of power; for self-sufficiency is here indi¬ cated ; and as he says, through virtue. For he alone among partial animals [such as we are] who possesses virtue, is able to associate with, and love himself with a parental affec¬ tion. But the vicious man looking to his inward baseness , is indignant with himself and with his owri essence , is astonished with externals , and pursues an association with others , in con¬ sequence of his inability to behold himself. On the contrary , the worthy man perceiving himself beautiful , rejoices and is de¬ lighted, and producing in himself beautiful conceptions , gladly embraces an association with himself. For we are naturally domesticated to the beautiful, but hastily withdraw ourselves from deformity. Hence, if the world possesses virtue adapted to itself, in its intellectual and psychical essence, and in the perfection of its animal nature, looking to itself, it loves itself, and is present with, and sufficient to itself. 608 EXTRACTS FROM THE I TREATISE OF SYNESIUS OF PROVIDENCE Th is fable is Egyptian. The Egyptians trans¬ cend in wisdom. Perhaps therefore this also being a fable, obscurely signifies something more than a fable, because it is Egyptian. If, however, it is not a fable, but a sacred discourse, it will deserve in a still greater degree to be told, and committed to waiting. Osiris and Typhos were indeed brothers, and procreated from the same seed. There is not, how- 509 ever, one and the same relationship of souls and bodies. For it is not congruous to souls to be born on the earth from the same parents, but to flow from one fountain. But the nature of the world imparts two fountains ; the one indeed being luminous, but the other obscure and dark. And the one scatters its streams from the earth, as having its roots beneath, and leaps from terrene caverns, in order that it may offer violence to the divine law. But the other is suspended from the back of heaven.2 And it is sent from thence, in¬ deed, for the purpose of adorning the terrene allot¬ ment. In descending, however, it is ordered to be careful, lest in adorning and arranging that which is disorderly and unadorned, it should itself become, by approximating to it, filled with turpitude and deformity. But the law of Themis proclaims to souls, that whatever soul, in associating with the last of things, preserves its own nature free from contamination, shall again by the same way [in which it descended] be restored to the fountain I from which it was derived;4 just as the souls which after a certain manner are impelled from the 1 i. e. From an intelligible essence. % See my translation of the Phsedrus of Plato. 510 other fountain, are from a necessity of nature col» lected into kindred receptacles. Where slaughter, rage, and countless ills beside, In Ate’s meads and darkness, wander wide.1 This is the nobility and ignobility of souls. And thus it may happen that a Libyan and Parthian may be allied to each other, and that those whom we call brothers may have no relationship of souls ; which appeared by certain indications to be the case with these Egyptian children from their birth, and was clearly manifested when they arrived at the perfection of manhood. For the younger of \ the tw o, being born and educated through a divine destiny, was from his infancy desirous of learning, and a lover of fables. For a fable is the wisdom of children. He likewise applied himself to learn¬ ing with an ardour far beyond what might be ex¬ pected from his age. He was also obedient to his father, and imbibed with avidity whatever wisdom any one possessed ; at first, indeed, with a canine eagerness as it w?ere, desiring to know all things at once, as is usual with those geniuses who raise great expectations of themselves. For these pant * These lines are from Empedocles. 511 [after glory], and burst forth before their time, already promising themselves the attainment of the end after which they aspire. In the next place, long before the age of puberty, he was more sedate than a well-educated old man, and modestly at¬ tended to what was said to him. But when it was requisite that he himself should speak, or when he was interrogated about what he had heard, or about any thing else, his delay and his blushes were ob¬ vious to every one. He also made wray for, and resigned his seat to the elder among the Egyptians, though he vras the son of one who possessed a mighty empire. He likewise reverenced his equals, and was naturally disposed to pay attention to the welfare of mankind. Hence, while he was still a youth, it was difficult to find an Egyptian who had not through his means received some benefit from his father. The elder brother Typhos however was, in one word, perverse in every thing. For the king, in¬ deed, had procured for his son Osiris, teachers of all wisdom, both of such as is Egyptian, and such as is foreign. But this Typhos profoundly hated, and ridiculed as only fit for the idle and the servile. 512 Perceiving also that his brother conducted himself o in an orderly and modest manner towards his com¬ panions, he considered this to be occasioned by fear ; in consequence of which conduct in his bro¬ ther, no one ever saw Osiris striking another with his fist, or spurning with his heel, or running in a disorderly manner ; and this though his body was light and pure, and an easy burden to the soul which it surrounded. But neither did Osiris ever drink greedily, or laugh immoderately, so as to convulse the whole body, as was daily done by Typhos ; and he considered those works alone to be the province of free men to accomplish, which were performed voluntarily and opportunely. Hence, Typhos neither resembled his own race in his natural disposition, nor, in short, any man ; and in one word, he did not even himself resemble himself, but he vras a certain all- various evil. And now indeed he appeared to be a sluggish and use¬ less burden of the earth, since he only spared as much time from sleep as was sufficient to replenish his belly, and to deposit other things which might serve as the viatica of sleep. But at another time he neglected even a moderate supply of what the necessities of nature required, in order that he 513 might leap inelegantly, and be troublesome both to his equals in age, and to those that were older than himself» For he admired bodilv strength as the most perfect good, and employed it badly, either in breaking open doors, or hurling large masses of earth. And if he happened to wound any one, or do any other evil, he rejoiced as if it were a testi¬ mony of virtue. He was likewise inflated with un¬ seasonable desires, and was most violent in his venereal connexions. Besides this also, he was envious of his brother, and hated the Egyptians, because the people indeed admired Osiris in their discourses and songs, and all of them every where, both at home and in their common sacred ceremo¬ nies, supplicated the Gods to bestow upon him every good. Such a character therefore as this was Typhos, and such he appeared to be. Hence, Typhos formed a society of stupid youth, for no other purpose (since he was not naturally adapted to love any one judiciously) than that certain sedi¬ tious persons might be with him, who were averse to Osiris. But it was easy for any one to gain the good-will of Typhos, and obtain from him such things as youth require, if they only whispered any thing defamatory against Osiris,. Such a differ- Plot, 2 K 514 ence, therefore, in the liver of the two, was indi¬ cated by their natural dispositions from childhood. But as in paths which are in a different direction, the difference which is at first small, becomes gradually greater, till at length they are distant from each other by the most extended interval, thus also it might be seen io these youths, that the difference between them which was small at first, became very great as they advanced in years. These, however, did not gradually but immediately proceed in contrary paths, the one being allotted perfect virtue, but the other perfect vice. As they increased in years, therefore, the opposition of their deliberate choice also increased, the indications of which became more evident by their deeds. Osiris, therefore, as soon as he arrived at the age of puberty, associated himself with those who were appointed to the army, as the law did not allow those who were so young as he then was, to bear arms. He ruled likewise over their decisions, being as it were intellect with reference to them, and used the leaders of armies as his hands. Afterwards, his nature increasing like a plant, pro» duced a certain fruit which became continually 515 more perfect. But being made a prefect of the spearmen, an auditor of reports, the governor of a city, and the chief of the king’s council, he ren¬ dered each of these departments much more vene¬ rable than they were when he received them* But Typhos being made the treasurer, (for their father thought fit to make trial of the disposition of the youths in smaller affairs) disgraced both himself and him by whom he was appointed to this office, being convicted of stealing the public money, and of bribery and stupidity in his administration® Being transferred, therefore, to a magistracy of another kind, in the hope that he might be adapted to it, he acted in the latter more disgracefully than in the former ; and that part of this most excellent kingdom over which Typhos presided, was for a whole year considered inauspicious. From these he passed to other men, and transferred to them also grief and lamentation. Such, therefore, was Typhos in his government of men. And privately, indeed, he employed himself in lascivious dances ; and associated with the most disorderly Egyptians and foreigners, who were prepared to speak and hear, to suffer and to do all things, so that his banqueting-room was the workshop of all-various 516 intemperance. He likewise snored when he was awake* and was delighted to hear others do the same* conceiving the thing to be a certain admira¬ ble music ; and he both praised and honoured him who could extend this intemperate sound* and give a greater roundness to it. Among these also, he who was especially strenuous and shameless in all his conduct* and who was not averse to any thing disgraceful, obtained many rewards for his forti¬ tude , and besides these, certain magistracies as the wages of his base licentiousness. Such, therefore, was the domestic conduct of Typhos. But when he transacted the affairs of the public, then he clearly demonstrated that vice is all-various. For it is discordant both with virtue and itself, and all the parts of it are in opposition to each other. In transacting public business, therefore, being inflated with pride, he immediately became furious, and barking more ferociously than an Epirotic dog, inflicted calamity either on an in¬ dividual, or a family, or a whole city. The greater also the evil was which he occasioned, the more he was delighted, as if he would wipe away with the tears of mankind the infamy of his domestic indo- 517 lence. Nevertheless, one advantage was derived from this evih For frequently when he attempted any thing of a dire nature against some one, he was induced to fall into suspicions foreign from the truth, so that he resembled those who are furious through inspiration from the Nymphs, strenuously contending about the Delphic shadow. In the mean time, he who was in danger was saved ; for “ no mention was made of him afterwards. Or it so happened that he was seized with a lethargy and a heaviness in his head for a certain time, so as to forget what he intended to do. Afterwards, how¬ ever, though he recovered from this stupor, yet he lost all recollection of past transactions. He would likewise contend with those who w7ere in adminis¬ tration, about the quantity of grains of wheat con¬ tained in a medimnus, or the cyathi contained in a congius ; exhibiting in such disputes a certain superfluous and absurd sagacity. Sleep, also, by opportunely attacking Typhos, would sometimes snatch a man from destruction. For Typhos, when seized with this, would have dashed his head on the ground, unless some one of his attendants, laying aside his lamp, had supported him. And thus it* frequently happened that a tragical Pan * 518 nuchis s ended in a comedy. For he did not trails» act business during the day* because he was natu¬ rally hostile to light and the sun, and adapted to darkness. But though he clearly knew that every one with whom the smallest degree of wisdom was present, despised his extreme ignorance, yet he did not accuse himself of folly, but was on this account the common enemy of intelligent men as of those that injured him, because they knew how to form a judgment of things. For he was a man incapable of giving counsel to others, and most ready in the contrivance of stratagems. With him folly and an insane confidence were inseparably united, which are two pests of the soul that corroborate each other ; than which there neither are, nor ever will be in the nature of things, evils of a greater magni¬ tude, or more prompt to destroy the human race. These several particulars the father saw and understood, but at the same time provided for the welfare of the Egyptians. For he wras a king, a priest, and a wise man. And the Egyptian writ¬ ings say that he was also a God. For the Egyptians s Any sacrifice or mystery which was celebrated during the whole of the night, wai thus denominated. 519 do not hesitate to believe that myriads of Gods 3 have reigned over them, before the earth was go¬ verned by men, and they trace the descent of their kings from Piromis to Piromis.* When therefore 1 Every God, according to the arcana of ancient theology, beginning from on high, produces his proper series as far as to the last of things ; and this series comprehends many essences different from each other, such as Angelical, Daemoniacal, Heroical, Nymphical, and the like. The lowest powers also of these orders, have a great communion and physical sympa¬ thy with the human race, and contribute to the perfection of all their natural operations, and particularly to their procrea¬ tions. Such men, therefore, as transcended the herd of man¬ kind either in practical or intellectual virtue, in consequence of being inspired by and also knowing the divinity from whom they descended, called themselves by the name of that divi¬ nity, and were in consequence of this denominated Gods. For a copious account of these heroic souls, see the notes to my Pausanias, and to the Cratylus of Plato in the last volume of my translation of his works. % i( When Hecatasus,” (says Herodotus in Euterp.) “ in the account of his family, came to mention the l6th God, they (i. e. the priests of Jupiter at Thebes) would by no means ad¬ mit of his supposition, that a man could be begotten by a God ; but on the contrary told him, that each of the images he saw, represented a Piromois begotten by another Piromois ; and that of the whole number, amounting to 345, no one had been reputed either a God or a hero ; the word Piromois signifying no more in their language than an honest and,virtuous man, which character all those represented by the images had, and yet were far inferior to the Gods.” — Littlebury’s Herodotus, vol. i. p. 221, 520 the divine laws had transferred him to the greater Gods, and the day destined [for the election of his successor] was present, the tribes of the priests, and the soldiers that were natives of the land, assembled together from every city of Egypt, hav¬ ing been previously cited by a proclamation for this purpose. These, therefore, assembled from the necessity of law. It was lawful, however, for the rest of the people to be absent ; but no one was prevented from being present, who intended to come as a spectator of voting, and not as one who was to give his vote* Swineherds, however, were excluded from the spectacle, and such foreigners as bore arms for the Egyptians : for it was not lawful for these to be present. The elder son, therefore, on this account had much fewer votes than the younger. For the seditious faction of Typhos con¬ sisted of swineherds and foreigners, an insane and numerous class of men ; yet yielding to custom, and not attempting any thing contrary to it, nor considering the disgrace of their exclusion as something dire, but as that which was appropriate, as being established by law, and natural to their race. 521 A king, however, among the Egyptians was created as follows : There is a sacred mountain near the great city of Thebes, and another mono» tain opposite to it, between both of which is the stream of the Nile. Of these, the mountain oppo¬ site to that which is sacred, is called Libycus, in which the candidates for the election of the king were by law commanded to dwell, during the time of preparation for the ceremony, in order that they might not know any thing of the choice which would be made. But the sacred mountain is called Egyptius. On the summit of this is the tabernacle of the king, with whom also those priests dwell who transcend in wisdom, and the arrange¬ ment proceeds to every class of those of superior en¬ dowments, distributing the seats according to the dig¬ nity of the mysteries [in which those who filled them were initiated.] The first circle, therefore, consists of those, who are placed about the king as if sur¬ rounding a heart. The next circle to this consists of the soldiers. And they, indeed, surround the hill which forms another mountain on the extended mount, like a rising breast, and enables those to see the king who are at the greatest distance from him. But those surround the foot of the mountain who 5n are permitted to be present at the spectacle» And these only celebrate with propitious acclamations that part of the ceremony which they behold. Those, however* who have the power of voting* when the king invokes the Gods, and those to whom this office belongs* excite the whole assembly (as if divinity w as present* and paid attention to the election), and the name of one of the candidates for the kingdom being announced, the soldiers elevate their hands. But the comasta , (or those that fur¬ nish banquets) the asdiles and prophets, give their votes, these being, indeed, less numerous, but pos¬ sessing the greatest power in the election. For the vote of a prophet is equal to a hundred hands ; that of one of the com as tee to twenty ; and that of an aedile to ten hands. Another name of the royal candidates being announced, hands are elevated and votes given. And if the number of the votes happens to be nearly equal, then the king by adding his vote to the part which exceeds causes it to be much greater than it was ; but if he adds it to the less part, he renders it equal to the other part. In this case it is necessary to dissolve the assembly of voters, and pray to the Gods, supplicating them for a long time ; and sanctifying themselves in a 523 more irreprehensible manner, till the Gods indicate the king, not through veils, or usual signs, but openly, and the people with their own ears become witnesses of the choice of the Gods, Such was the usual mode of election, the choice sometimes fall- ingon one, and sometimes on another person. But in the election of Osiris and Typhos, the Gods without the performance of any sacred ceremonies by the priests, became at first immediately visible, and themselves presiding conducted the affair. Each of them also appointed their priests, and it was obvious to every one on what account they were present ; though if they had not been present, every hand and every vote would have expected the name of the younger of the royal youths* With us, however, great things are pre-indicated to greater and wiser 1 men, and divinity signifies they will happen whether they are for the better or the worse, by portents of an admirable nature* Osiris, therefore, as it was lawful for him to do, remained in that place into which he was at first brought. But Typhos, being impatient of delay, 1 For tppoi/nois here, it is necessary to read φρονψοιχ* 524 was restless and disturbed, and anxious to know the state of the election ; and at length could not refrain from attempting to corrupt the suffrages. Not sparing, therefore, either himself, or the royal laws, and plunging into the river, in which he was borne along, swimming, and doing and suffering every thing, and derided by those who saw him, he et length passed over the stream ; fancying that he was not seen except by those to whom he came, and to whom he had promised a pecuniary reward. He was, however, recognized by every one, and every one hated both him and his design. Yet no one thought fit to reprove an insane disposition. Hence it happened to this most miserable man, that while he was himself present, and in his own hearing, he was rejected by the decision of every one, and all hands were against him. The Gods also execrated him. But Osiris being sent for came, not at all solicitous about the event, the Gods, the priests, and in short, the whole assembly, meeting him with sacred crowns, and sacred pipes, on the bank of the river in which the ship destined to receive the new king from the Libyc coast, ought to sail. Mighty signs likewise were immediately exhibited from the heavens, accompanied with 525 divine voices indicative of good, and every kind of prodigy from which a judgment of futurity is formed both in great and small affairs,— all which por¬ tended a prosperous empire to the Egyptians. Hence daemons of the worse part [L e. evil das» mens] could not endure to remain quiet, nor to bear with mildness this felicity of men, but thought lit to attack it, and became tumid [with rage] ; in con¬ sequence of which something of demoniacal strata¬ gem was portended* After Osiris, therefore, was initiated by his father in the royal mysteries, [the Gods] clearly announced to him, as perspicuously knowing every thing, both a certain abundance of good, and that it would be requisite to extermi¬ nate his brother, who was born with a destiny un- propitious both to the Egyptians,, and to the house of l\is father, if he did not intend to confound all things, in order that his brother might neither see nor hear of the prosperity and fertility of Egypt, during the reign of Osiris* For no good could be borne by the nature of Typhos. The Gods also unfolded to Osiris the twofold essence of souls, and the necessary opposition existing between terrene and supernal souls* In consequence of this, they thought it requisite that he should subvert and cut 526 off the nature which was hostile to the beneficent and divine co-ordination of things/ not being at all prevented from so doing through what is called alli¬ ance by mankind. They likewise informed him what calamities would happen to himself, to the Egyptians, to the neighbouring kingdoms, and to those in subjection to the Egyptians, if he was neg¬ ligent in this respect. For they said that neither would the evil be debile which would befal him, nor would a casual circumspection be sufficient to exclude and weaken both the obvious and latent attacks of Typhos. For, they added, that a strong tribe of envious and malignant daemons were pre¬ sent with Typhos as his patrons, to whom also he was allied, and by whom he was hurled forth into light, in order that they might employ him as an * The twofold co-ordination of things according to the Py¬ thagoreans, or the opposition which every where prevails in the universe, and also the fertile and barren periods which alter¬ nately take place in the sublunary region, appear to be indi¬ cated by this Egyptian fable. But this opposition in the Gods, is that of bound and infinity ; in intellects, it is that of same¬ ness and difference ; in souls, that of the circle of sameness, and the circle of difference ; but in bodies, it is that of heaven and generation. And universally the division is into that which adorns, and that which is adorned, that which fills, and that which is filled. For an account of the fertile and barren periods, see the additional notes. instrument of the evil which they inflict on man¬ kind. And that proceeding in this path, they had procreated, nourished, and performed the office of a midwife to Typhos, and educated him in an ap¬ propriate manner, that he might eventually be of great advantage to them. Nevertheless they thought that one thing was yet wanting to the accom¬ plishment of all his wishes, viz. that he should be environed with the strength of empire. For thus he would be completely perfect, being both willing and able to perpetrate mighty evils. But you (said some one of the Gods) they hate, as the gain of mankind, but their detriment. For the calami¬ ties of nations are the banquets of evil daemons. Again, therefore,, and again the Gods admonished Osiris that he should expel his brother, and send him to some distant land, as they both knew and saw that Osiris was naturally mild, in consequence of which they were at length forced to tell him that for a certain time he would endure [the depravity of his brother], but that at length Typhos would latently betray both him and all men, and in reality exchange the benignant name of brotherly-love for the greatest of calamities. Osiris, however, said, in answer to this, While you are propitious and I 528 afford assistance* I shall not fear my brother* though he should remain* and I shall be safe from the indignation of [evil] daemons. For you being willing, can easily procure a remedy for what may have been overseen by me/* But the father of Osiris said in reply* a You do not conceive rightly in this affair, my son. For that portion of the divine nature which is in the world is conversant with mundane affairs, yet for the most part it energizes according to its first power, and is filled with intelligible beauty. For there [i, e. in the intelligible world] there is another supermun¬ dane genus of Gods, which connectedly contains all beings as far as to the last of things. But this genus of Gods is immoveable, and has no tendency whatever to matter. It is also a blessed spectacle to those beings who are Gods by nature [or the mundane Gods]. And to behold the fountain of it, is a still more blessed vision. This genus like¬ wise because it abides with itself is exuberantly full of good, being exuberantly full of itself. But the good of these Gods consists in a conversion to the God who reigns in the intelligible world. Never¬ theless the energy of good is not simple, nor of one 529 form. But these divinities direct their attention to the parts of the world, deducing as much as pos¬ sible the energy which consists in contemplation to the subject of their government. That which is pure and entire, therefore, in these, is immediately arranged under that first essence. But they ar¬ range the natures proximate to themselves, and a succession of orders descends in a continued series, as far as to the last of beings. All things likewise enjoy the providential care of first natures through those of a middle rank, yet not equally. For if this were the case, that which is successive would have no subsistence ; but beings in descending would be debilitated, till by confounding and adul¬ terating their order, things would cease to exist. A thing of this kind also takes place in these infe¬ rior abodes. The essence of that which is in gene¬ ration being naturally erratic, fis allotted the extre¬ mity of a corporeal destiny, and the most obnoxious to corruption. But to the heavens the first and an undecaying condition of being is distributed, and a form analogous to that of soul. Hence, what they are, said he, (pointing out the Gods) in the hea- Plot . 2 I., 530 vens, that dasmons are in the incessantly mutable 1 elements. For they are naturally full of stupid as¬ tonishment and audacity, and in consequence of being separated by so great an interval from the heavens, have no perception of the elegant arrange» ment of divine natures. Since, therefore, the dregs of beings is not sufficient to its own preservation ; for it is in a flowing condition, and does not stop for exis¬ tence, but imitates it by becoming to be ; and since dasmons as being allied to this nature, have a de¬ structive essence ; hence it is necessary that divi¬ nity should direct his attention to these lower re¬ gions and impart certain principles, which the sub¬ lunary world follows for a time in a becoming man¬ ner, viz. for as long a time as that which is imparted is sufficient. But as instruments which are drawn by strings are moved indeed, even when the prin¬ ciple which imparted motion to the machine ceases to act, yet are not moved ad infinitum ; for they have not inwardly the fountain of motion ; but are moved as long as the power imparted to them pre¬ vails, and is not by being separated from its proper origin, dissolved in its progression ; after the same 1 For πολνκ\ονητοι$ here, I read πολυκινητοίς. 531 manner my dear Osiris conceive that it is well for a divine nature to exist, and at the same time not exist in this terrestrial abode,1 but to be sent into it from another region. On this account, souls are rarely good in these realms, though they may be seen in them. And the Gods who are the inspec- tive guardians of generation when they direct their attention to it, perform indeed that which is ap¬ propriate to them, yet not according to their pri¬ mary life ; for their blessedness consists in some¬ thing d iiferent from this, because it is more blessed primarily to enjoy the participations of beauty and order from that which is first, than to adorn things of an inferior nature. For the latter is a turning away from, but the former a conversion to [pri¬ mary good.] You also have been initiated in those mysteries in which there are two pair of eyes , and it is requisite that the pair which are beneath should be closed when the pair that are above them perceive , and that when the pair above are closed , those which are beiieath should be opened. Think, therefore, that this is an enigma indicative of con¬ templation and action, the intermediate natures * i. e. A divine nature is not present locally in the earth, but is present by its energies and illuminations. 532 alternately energizing according to each of these ; but so as to energize more perfectly in the better of these, and to associate with the inferior from neces¬ sity alone. Hence these are the works of the Gods, effecting, indeed, things necessary to the world* yet not imparting precedaneous goods, be¬ cause men also at one time apply themselves to the management of domestic 1 concerns, in a greater and less degree ; but at another time philosophize, and in this latter energy are more divine than in the former. From these things, therefore, under¬ stand what I say. Do not request the Gods to be your associates, since their precedaneous employ¬ ment consists in contemplation and the government of the first parts of the world. They also dwell in the heavens, and are at a great distance from the earth. Yet you must not think that they are with¬ out employment, or that their descent hither is per¬ petual. For they descend according to orderly pe¬ riods of time,* for the purpose of imparting the 1 Instead of οικονρουσι in this place, I read οικονομονσι. * By the descent of the Gods to the earth, nothing more is meant than the aptitude of terrestrial natures to receive their illuminations. For the Gods always contemplate, and always energize providentially, but earthly natures are not always adapted to receive their beneficent energies in a becoming manner. 533 principle of a beneficent motion in the republics of mankind, after the example of the framers of ma¬ chines* But this happens when they harmonize a kingdom, and send hither for this purpose souls allied to themselves. For this providence is divine and most ample, which frequently through one man pays attention to a countless multitude of men. These, therefore, in providentially inspecting hu¬ man affairs must also necessarily at the same time be attentive to their own. It is requisite, however, that you who are engaged in foreign concerns, should remember whence you are derived, and that you engage in this superintendance of the affairs of others, as in a certain servitude to the world. But you should endeavour to elevate yourself, and not to draw down the Gods. You should likewise pay every possible attention to yourself, as if living in a camp among foreigners, and as a divine soul among [evil] dasmons, whom it is reasonable to suppose, as they are earth-begotten, will be hostile to and indignant with any one who within their boundaries observes laws that belong to another tribe of beings. You must be satisfied, therefore, in being vigilant both by night and by day, and in making this the only object of your care, that you 534 being but one may not be vanquished by many, a stranger by natives. For there is indeed in this terrestrial abode, the sacred tribe of heroes who pay attention to mankind, and who are able to give them assistance, even in the smallest concerns, and there is also a more ancient good.* This heroic tribe is as it were a colony, established here, in or¬ der that this terrene abode may not be left desti¬ tute of a better nature. These heroes also extend their hands in those things in which they are able to give assistance. But when Matter excites her own proper blossoms, (i. e. progeny) to war against the soul, the resistance made by the heroic tribe is but small when the Gods are absent. For every thing is strong in its appropriate place. These daemons, however, who are the progeny 1 i. e. The good arising'from the super-mundane providential inspection of divinity. Hence Plato in the pth book of his Republic most divinely says, “ Whatever comes from the Gods to the man who is beloved by the Gods, will all be the best possible, unless he has some necessary ill from former miscarriage. Hence, if the just man happens to be in poverty or disease, or in any other of those seeming evils, these things issue to him in something good either whilst alive or dead. For never at any time is he neglected by the Gods who inclines earnestly to endeavour to become just , and practises virtue as far as it is possible for man to resemble God.” 535 \ of matter wish to make souls their own, and the manner in which they attack them is as follows : It is not possible in the earth that there should be some one who has not a portion of the irrational soul. And this, indeed, the multitude hurl forth as their defence, but the w7ise man suspends from his essence. All souls, however, necessarily have this part. Evil daemons through this, as through that which is allied to them, invade and betray the animal. For in reality that which then takes place resembles a siege. But as coals are swiftly en¬ kindled by torches, through their adaptation to iire, so the nature of these daemons being passive, or rather being a living and moveable passion, when it approaches to the soul, excites the passion which is in it, and produces it from capacity into energy. For each thing operates by juxtaposition. But every thing which suffers is co-assimilated to that which acts upon it. Thus daemons inflame desire, thus they inflame anger, and all such evils as are the sisters of these ; associating with souls through the parts that are adapted to themselves, which naturally perceive the presence of these dae¬ mons, and are excited and corroborated by them, rising against intellect, till they either vanquish the whole soul, or despair of its caption* This then is the greatest of contests* For there is neither any time, nor any mode, nor any place, in which they cease to attack, and thence invade the soul from whence no one would expect an assault. Their snares are every where, their machines every where, and on all sides they excite an intestine •war, till they either vanquish or abandon the at¬ tempt/ But the Gods from on high are specta¬ tors of these beautiful contests, in which you will be crowned, as I also wish you may in those of the second rank. I am, however, afraid, that though 1 Proclus, in his very elegant hymn to the Sun, alludes to these daemons and their attacks, in the following lines: δειμαινουσι be σειο θοης μάστιγος απειλήν δαίμονες, ανθρώπων δηλημονες^ αγριοθνμομ ψνχαις ημετεραις δνεραις κακα πορσυνοντες , οφρ ’ a tet κατα λαιτμα βαρνσμαραγου βιοτοιο σώματος οτλευωσιν υπο έενγοδεσμα π οθουντες, υφιτενονς be λαθοιντο πατρος πολνψεγγεος αυλής , *( Ferocious daemons, noxious to mankind. Dread the dire anger of thy rapid scourge ; Daemons who machinate a thousand ills Pregnant with ruin to our wretched souls. That, merg’d beneath life’s dreadful-sounding sea. In body’s chains they willingly may toil. Nor e’er remember in the dark abyss The splendid palace of their sire sublime/' 537 you will vanquish in the former, you will he van¬ quished in the latter contests. For when the di¬ vine part of the soul does not follow the inferior part, but frequently restrains it, and is converted to itself, then in process of time it becomes so corro¬ borated as to sustain all attacks, and so resplendent as it were, that it no longer receives the influxes of daemons. Thus, therefore, the whole animal then becomes truly divine and one. And this is a celes¬ tial plant in the earth, which does not receive a foreign ingraftment, so as to produce fruits from 'it, but changes that which is foreign into its own na¬ ture. Evil daemons, therefore, despairing of ob¬ taining the victory over it, then entirely contend in the second contest, which consists in endeavouring to extirpate this plant from the earth, and destroy it, as in no respect adapted to themselves. For they are ashamed of being vanquished, if some one of a nature foreign to themselves subdues them, and is resident in the places which belong to them ; this being in reality, and appearing to be a trophy of victory. For a man of this kind is not only a detriment to them in himself, but causes others also to revolt from their dominion. For when virtue is the object of emulation, vice must necessarily perish. 538 On this account, therefore, these daemons endea¬ vour by stratagems to destroy every one, whether he be a private person or a potentate, who refuses obedience to the laws of matter. As you, how¬ ever, are a king, it will be easier for you than for a private person to guard against their attacks. For they assault externally, if they do not make any progress in their internal attempts, by war, se¬ dition, and by such things as injure the body, by which, however, that king will not be in the least subdued who pays attention to himself. For that is not to be conquered in which strength and wis¬ dom are conjoined. But when these are separated from each other, strength being without skill, and wisdom being imbecile, they are easily subdued. The conception, indeed, my son, of your fore¬ fathers in the formation of sacred images, is per¬ fectly admirable. For the Egyptians make a two¬ fold representation of the daemon Hermes, placing a young by the side of an elderly man, intending to signify by this, that he who rightly inspects [sacred concerns] ought to be both intelligent and strong, one of these being imperfect in affording utility without the other. On this account, also, a sphinx 539 is established by us in the vestibules of our temples, as a sacred symbol of the conjunction of these two goods ; the beast in this figure signifying strength, but the man wisdom.1 For strength when desti- 1 The following explanation of the sphinx is extracted from the notes to my translation of Fausanias : Tire sphinx, accord¬ ing to Lasus Hermioneus, was the daughter of Echidna and Typhon ; and according to Clearchus, she had the head and hands of a virgin, the body of a dog, a human voice, the tail of a dragon, the claws of a lion, and the wings of a bird. But it appears to me that the ancients, by the sphinx, designed t© represent to us the nature of the phantasy or imagination. In order to be convinced of which, it is necessary to observe, that the rational soul, or the true man, consists of intellect, dianoia or the discursive energy of reason, and opinion ; but the ficti¬ tious man, or the irrational soul, commences from the phan¬ tasy, under which desire and anger subsist. Hence the basis of the rational life is opinion, but the summit of the irrational life is the phantasy. But the phantasy, as Iamblichus beau» tifully observes, grows upon, as it were, and fashions all the powers of the soul ; exciting in opinion the illuminations from the senses, and fixing in that life which is extended with body, the impressions which descend from intellect. Hence, says Proclus, it folds itself about the indivisibility of true intellect, conforms itself to all formless species, and becomes perfectly every thing, from which dianoia and our indivisible reason consist. This being the case, as the phantasy is all things passively which intellect is impassively (on which account Aristotle calls the phantasy passive intellect) hence the head of the sphinx is human, but at the same time of the feminine sex ; this sex being the image, from its passivity, of the irrational life. By the sphinx having the body of a dog, the discriminating power 540 tute of the ruling aid of wisdom, is borne along with stupid astonishment, mingling and confound- of the phantasy is implied : for a dog is the image of the discri¬ minating power of the soul. Hence Hercules drew up this power from Hades, viz. from the obscurity of a sensible life. But by her having the tail of a dragon, and the claws of a lion, the communication of the phantasy with desire and anger is signified. And her wings are images of the elevating powers, which the phantasy naturally possesses ; for it is re-elevated in conjunction with the returning soul, to the region every way resplendent with divine light. But the riddles of the sphinx are images of the obscure and intricate nature of the phantasy. He, therefore, who is unable to solve the riddles of the sphinx, i. e. who cannot comprehend the dark and perplexed nature of the phantasy, will be drawn into her embraces and torn in pieces, viz. the phantasy in such a one will subject to its power the rational life, cause its indivisible energies to become divisible, and thus destroy as much as possible its very essence. But be who, like (Edipus, is able to solve the enigmas of the sphinx, or, in other words, to comprehend the dark essence of his phantasy, will, by illuminating its obscurity with the light of intellect, cause it, by becoming lucid throughout, to be no longer what it was before. Hence we may see the propriety of the Egyptians placing a sphinx in the vestibule of the temple of Isis,4 who is the same with Minerva. For what the phantasy is in the microcosm man, that asther is in the universe. But opinion may be called the vestibule of the rational soul, and the rational soul is as it were the temple of that intellectual illumination which proceeds from Minerva. In this vestibule, therefore, the phantasy is seated. And in a similar manner sether is seated in the vestibule of that divine soul, which is suspended from the deity of Minerva, and which may be called her temple* So that sether is the sphinx of the universe. 541 ing all things ; and intellect is useless for the pur¬ poses of action, when it is deprived of the subser¬ viency of hands. But virtue and fortune are scarcely indeed found to unite, and when they do, it is in great characters such as yourself in whom they concur. No longer, therefore, molest the Gods, since you are able, if willing, to be saved by your own internal resources, For it is not fit that the Gods should always be absent from their own abodes, and be willingly conversant with foreign and inferior places ; unless it is impious in us to use in a becoming manner the auxiliaries which are disseminated in us for the purpose of preserving terrene natures in order and a continued succes¬ sion. For those who assert this, must admit that the Gods again descend from necessity before tl the appointed time, to the providential inspection of terrene affairs. But when the harmony is dis¬ solved and becomes old, which the Gods adapted to things, they again descend 1 hither that they * When certain places and parts of the earth lose the apti¬ tude which they once possessed of receiving divine illumina¬ tions, then they are said in fables to be deserted by the Gods ; and when they recover this aptitude, and thus partake of the illuminations of the Gods, then the Gods are said to descend to such places, and this recovery of the participation of divine '542 may call it forth into -energy, and resuscitate it when it is as it were expiring. They likewise are delighted to effect this, accomplishing in so do- ing a certain subserviency to the nature of the world. They also descend when this harmony is corrupted and broken through the fault of the na¬ tures that receive it, when in no other way what¬ ever it is possible for these terrene affairs to be preserved. Divinity, therefore, is not excited by circumstances of a trifling nature, nor when an error is committed about this or that particular ; for it is necessary that the affair should be some¬ thing of great moment, for the sake of which some one of the blessed descends to this abode. When, however, the whole order of things, and the greatest things are corrupted, then it is necessary that the Gods should descend for the purpose of imparting the principle of another orderly distribution of things. By no means, therefore, should men be indignant, since the evils which happen to them are spontaneous, nor ought they to accuse the influence is fabulously called the birth-day of those Gods by whom this influence is imparted. The recovery of this apti¬ tude, also, is owing to the providential energies of the Gods, and is as it were a subordinate and preparatory illumination, the precursor of one that is precedaneous. 543 Gods of not providentially attending to their affairs* For providence requires that men should exert what they derive from themselves. Nor is it won» derful that there should be evils in the abode of evils ; but it is admirable if there is any thing here which is not of this kind. For such a thing is a stranger and foreign. This also is from providence, through which, if we are not negligent, but employ what we possess from it, it is possible for us to be perfectly happy. For providence is not like the mother of an infant recently born, who must neces¬ sarily be occupied in repelling whatever may accede of a painful nature, since the child is yet imperfect, and incapable of assisting himself. But providence resembles that mother, who having caused her child to grow, and furnished him with arms, orders him to use them, and repel the evils by which he may be attacked. Philosophize therefore always about these things, and consider the knowledge of them as a thing of the greatest importance to mankind. For men who are pious and at the same time soli¬ citous, admit that there is a providence, and pay attention to themselves, and do not conceive that the conversion of divinity [to the superintendancc of mundane affairs] aod the use of virtue are dis- 544 cordant with each other. Farewell. But prevent if you are w ise the designs of your brother, and be the first to subvert your own fate and that of the Egyptians. For this is possible. But if you yield and are remiss, expect at a late period the assist¬ ance of the Gods. Having thus said, he departed the same way with the Gods. But Osiris was left on the earth, (though he w^as a thing of which the earth was by no means worthy), and immediately strove to ex¬ terminate evils from it, not employing any force for this purpose, but sacrificing to Persuasion, to the Muses and Graces, he rendered all men voluntarily obedient to the laws. But as the Gods abun¬ dantly supplied the king with all such gifts as the air, the water, and the earth afford, he yielded the enjoyment of these to the multitude, but abandoned himself 'all indulgence, and instead of it engaged in O' o o every kind of labour, slept but little, w;as full of care, and in short, was without leisure, in order that all his subjects might have leisure. Hence, he filled all men with both internal and external goods, not only individuals, but families and their kindred, cities, and whole provinces. For he ex- 545 eked virtuous emulation, ordering that every disci¬ pline and every pursuit should be undertaken with a view to this one thing. He likewise appointed rewards for those who governed nien in the best manner, and who made the governed to resemble their governors. But it is necessary that every thing which is honoured should increase. At the same time, therefore, the love of all erudition was augmented, both that which pertains to the mind, and that which depends on the tongue. For those who excelled in a thing of this latter kind, were no longer to be seen among the vulgar herd, but vvere splendid through the honours w hich they received from the king, in consequence of imparting the art which is subservient to wisdom ; because intellect proceeds into light clothed with wrords, and is either well or badly adorned, just as some men are seen to be of an elegant shape, but others de¬ formed. Osiris therefore thought it fit, that pre¬ paratory disciplines should be honoured ; for he conceived erudition to be the fountain of virtue. Piety, likewise, then flourished among the Egyp¬ tians more than at any other time. And these in¬ deed were the goods of the soul, in which the Egyptians abounded during the reign of Osiris, so riot . <2 M 546 that the whole region then resembled a school of virtue, youth looking to one leader only, perform¬ ing that one thing which they saw, and speaking that one thing which they heard* With respect to wealth, also, Osiris himself in¬ deed neglected it, but was anxious in the extreme that others might obtain it, himself refusing all gifts, but being most munificent to others. He likewise liberated cities from the payment of tri¬ bute, supplied them [from his own treasury] when they were in want, raised that which was fallen, and applied a remedy to that which wras in a ruin¬ ous condition. And one city, indeed, he rendered more ample, but another he beautified ; this he built, and that which was deserted by its inhabitants he repeopled. It is necessary, therefore, that an individual should be a partaker of common goods ; but Osiris did not desist from paying attention to this or that man, and from endeavouring that while he reigned no one might be seen lamenting and weeping. Nor was Osiris ignorant of the wants of any one, or of what prevented any one from being blessed. Hence, one man requested Osiris to confer on him the honor which was justly his 547 due, and it was accordingly conferred on him ; but another who applied himself to books, and had not sufficient leisure to procure the necessaries of life, was supplied by Osiris with food in the Prytanasum. Another who neglected human honours, and who was sufficiently affluent, but perhaps was ashamed of his subserviency to the public, did not escape the notice of Osiris, who liberated him from his employment, not being importuned by him for this purpose, but preventing his solicitation, conceiving through his reverence for wisdom, that such a one should be a law to himself, and should be free, as a sacred thing dedicated to divinity. In short, no one was defrauded of his desert, unless he deserved some evil ; for in this case, he did not reward him. For Osiris was ambitious to vanquish the most impudent men, by gentleness of manners and bene¬ ficent works. And through these means he thought he should be able to subdue his brother and his faction, by changing their natural disposition through the abundance of virtue ; in which opinion howrever he was deceived. For envy is not re¬ pressed by virtue , but is in a greater degree in¬ flamed by it . For if it naturally adheres to good, 548 the greater the good is, the more the pain of envy is increased . Some time after this, Typhos obtained the king¬ dom by fraud and force, and Osiris was banished. But during the evils arising from the tyrannical government of Typhos, some God manifestly ap¬ peared to a certain philosopher, who was a stranger in Egypt, and who had received great benefits from Osiris, and ordered him to endure the present cala¬ mities, because they were months only and not years in which the fates had destined that the Egyptian sceptres should raise the nails of the wild beasts,1 and depress the heads of the sacred birds.4 Jut this is an arcane symbol. And the philosophic stranger above-mentioned, knew that a representa¬ tion of this was engraved in obelisks, and in the sacred recesses of the temples. The divinity also unfolded to him the meaning of the sacred sculp- 1 i. e. Material daemons, or Οηρεε χθονοε, the wild beasts of the earthy as they are called in the Chaldean Oracles. % i. e. Hie whole choir of beneficent natures superior to man. But by the depression of the heads of the sacred birds, the inaptitude of persons and places to receive divine influence, is denoted. 549 ture, and gave him a sign of the time in which it would be verified. For when those, said he , who are now in power , shall endeavour to make an inno¬ vation in our religion , then in a short time after expect that the Giants, meaning by these , men of another nation , shall be entirely expelled , being agitated by their own avenging furies . If, how¬ ever, some remains of the sedition should still exist, and the whole should not be at once extinguished, but Typhos should still remain in the seat of go¬ vernment, nevertheless do not despair of the Gods. The following, also, is another symbol for you. When we shall purify the air which surrounds the earth , and which is defied with the breath of the impious , with fire and water , then the punishment of the rest will also folloxo , and then immediately expect a better order of things , Typhos being re¬ moved. For we expel such like prodigies by the devastation of fire and thunder. In consequence of this, the stranger considered that to be a feli¬ citous circumstance which had before appeared to him to be dreadful, and no longer bore with molestation a necessary continuance in life, through which he would be an eye-witness of the advent of the Gods. For it exceeded the power of human 550 sagacity to conjecture, that so powerful a multitude as were then collected together in arms, and who even in time of peace were by law obliged to be armed, should be vanquished without any opposi¬ tion. He consideied with himself, therefore, how these things could be accomplished ; for they ap¬ peared to surpass the power of reason. But after no great length of time , a certain depraved frag¬ ment of religion , and an adulteration of divine worship , like that of money as it were , prevailed , which the ancient law exterminated Jrom cities, shutting the doors against impiety , and expelling it to a great distance from the walls,1 Typhos, 3 What is here said by Synesius, reminds me of the follow** ing extraordinary prophecy in the Asclepian dialogue, ascribed to Hermes Trismegistus, a Latin translation only of which is extant, and is generally believed by the learned to have been made by Apuleius. The passage I allude to is the following: An ignoras, O Asclepi, quod iEgyptus imago sit cceli, aut, quod c.st venus, translatio, et descensio omnium, quae guber- nantur, atque exercentur in coelo ? Et si dicendum est verius, terra nostra totius mundi est tern pi urn : et tamen quoniam praescire cuncta prudentes decet, istud vos ignorare fas non est, futuram tempos est, quum appareat iEgyptios incassum pia mente divinitatem et sedula religione servasse, et omnis eorum sancta veneratio in irritum casura frustrabitur. E terris enim ad coelum est recursura divinitas. Linquetur JEgypius, terraque , qucs fuit divinitatis sedes , religione viduata, numinum prcesentia destituetur . Alienigenis enim regionem istam , ter- 551 ¥ however, did not himself introduce this impiety, for he feared the Egyptian multitude, but for this ramque complentibus, non solum neglectus religionum , sed ( quod est durius) quasi de legibus , a religione, pietate , cul tuque divino statuetur prcescripta pcena, prohibition Tunc terra ista , sane ~ tissima sedes delubrorum et iemplorum , sepulchrorum erit mor - tuorumque plenissima. O iEgypte, iEgypte, religionum solae supererunt fabulae, eaeque incredibiies posteris suis, solaque supererunt verba lapidibus incisa, tua pia facta narrantibus, et inhabitabit Mgyptum Scythes aut Indus , ant aliquis talis, Divinitas enim repetet ccelum, deserti homines toli morientur, atque ita iEgyptus Deo et homine viduata deseretur. Te vero appello sanctissimum flumen, tibique futura prasdico, torrenti sanguine plenus ad ripas usque erumpes, undseque divinae non solum polluentur sanguine, sed totae rumpentur, et vivis multo major erit numerus sepultorum^; superstes vero qui erit, lingua sola cognoscetur iEgyptius, actibus vero videbitur alienus. Quid ties, O Asclepi ? Et his amplius, multoque deterius, ipsa JEgyptus suadebitur, imbueturque pejoribus malis, quae sancta quondam et divinitatis amantissima deorum in terras religionis suae merito, sola seductio [lege reductio] sanctitatis et pietatis magistra, erit maximae crudelitatis exemplum. Et tunc teedio hominum non admirandus videbitur mundus, neque adorandus. Hoc totum bonum} quo melius nec est , nec fuit , nee erit , quod videri possit , periclitabitur. Eritque grave hominibus , ac per hoc contemnetur , nec diligetur totus hie mundus , Dei opus im~ mutabile , gloriosa construction bonum multiformi imaginum varietate compositum , machina voluntatis Dei in suo opere sine invidia suffragantis omnium in unum, quee venerari> laudari% amari denique a videntibus possunt , multiformis adunata con¬ gest io, Nam et tenebrae praeponentur lumini, et mors vita utilior judicabitur. Nemo suspiciet ccelum. Religiosus pro insano, irreligiosus putabitur prudenst furiosus fortis, pro bono habebitur pessirnus. Anima enim et omnia circum earn qui- 552 purpose called in the assistance of the Barbarians* and erected a temple in the city, having previously bus aut immortalis nata est, aut immortal itatem se consecti- turam esse praesumit ; secundum quod vobis exposui, non solum risus, sed etiam putabitur vanitas. Sed mihi credite etiam periculum capitate constituetur in eum, qui se mentis reli- gioni dederit . Nova constituentur jura, lex nova, nihil sanc¬ tum, nihil religiosum, nec ccelo, nec coelestibus dignum audietur, aut mente credetur. Fiet Deorum ab hominibits dolenda se¬ cession soli nocentes angeli remanebant, qui humanitati commixti ad omnia audacice mala miseros manu inject a compellent in bella, in rapinas , in fraudes, et in omnia quce sunt animarum naturae cont r aria. Tunc non terra constabit, nec navigabitur mare, nec coelum astrorum cursibus, nec siderum cursus con- stabit in ccelo. Omnis vox divina necessaria taciturnitate mutescet, fructus terrae corrumpentur, nec foecundaerit tellus, et aer ipse mcesto torpore languescet. Haec et talis senectus veniet mundi, irreligio, inordinatio, irrationabilitas bonorum omnium. Cbm ha2c cuncta contigerint, O Asclepi, tunc ille dominus et pater, Deus primipotens, et unus gubernator mun¬ di, intuens in mores factaque voluntaria voluntate sua, qum est Dei benignitas, vitiis resistens, et corruptelae omnium errorem revocans, malignitatem omnem vel alluvione diluens, vel igne consumens, vel morbis pestilentiisque per diversa loca dispersis finiens, ad antrquam faciem mundam revocabit, ut et mundus ipse adorandus videatur et mirandus, et tanti operis effector et restitutor Deus ab omnibus qui tunc eruht frequentibus lau- dum praeconiis benedictionibusque celebretur. Haec enim mundi genitura cunctarum reformatio rerum bonarum, et na¬ turae ipsius sanctissima et religiosissima restitutio, peracto tern- poris cursu, quae est et fuit sine initio sempiterna. Voluntas enim Dei caret initio, qua? eadem est, et ubique est sempi- terna.” i. e. 553 subverted the laws of his country. When these things therefore came to pass, the stranger began st Are you ignorant, O Asclepius, that Egypt is the image of heaven, or, which is more true, a translation and descent of every thing which is governed and exercised in heaven ? And if it may be said, our land is truly the temple of the whole world. Nevertheless, because it becomes wise men to fore¬ know all things, it is not lawful you should be ignorant that the time will come when it may seem that the Egyptians have in vain, with a pious mind and sedulous religion, paid attention to divinity, and all their holy veneration shall become void and of no effect. For divinity shall return back from earth to heaven, Egypt shall be forsaken, and the land which was the seat of divinity, shall be destitute of religion, and deprived of the presence of the Gods. For when strangers shall possess and fill this region and land , there shall not only be a neglect of religion , but , which is more miserable , there shall be laws enacted against religion , piety , and divine worship ; they shall be prohibited , and punishments shall be irficted on their vota¬ ries . Then this most holy land, the seat of places consecrated to divinity , and of temples, shall be full of sepulchres and dead bodies. 0 Egypt, Egypt, fables alone shall remain of thy re¬ ligion, , and these such as will be incredible to posterity , and words alone shall be left engraved in stones , narrating thy pious deeds. The Scythian , also , or Indian , or some other similar nation , shall inhabit Egypt. For divinity shall return to heaven, all its inhabitants shall die, and thus Egypt, bereft both of God and man, shall be deserted. Ϊ call <>n thee, O most holy river, and predict to thee future events. Thou Shalt burst forth with a torrent of blood, full even to thy banks, and thy divine waters shall not only be polluted with blood, but the land shall be inundated with it, and the number of the dead shall exceed that of the living. He likewise who survives, shall only by his language be known to be an Egyj - 554 to think that this was the event which divinity had predicted. And perhaps, said he, 1 shall be a tlan, but by his deeds he will appear to be a stranger. Why do you weep* O Asclepius ? Egypt shall experience more ample, and much worse evils than these, though she was once holy, and the greatest lover of the Gods on the earth, by the desert of her religion. And she who was alone the reductor of sanctity, and the mistress of piety, will be an example of the greatest cruelty. Then also, through the weariness of men, the world will not appear to be an admirable and adorable thing. This whole good, a better than which, as an object of percep¬ tion, there neither is, nor was, nor will be, will be in danger, and will be grievous to men. Hence this whole world will be despised, and will not be beloved, though it is the immutable work of God, a glorious fabric, a good compounded with a multiform variety of images, a machine of the will of God, who in his work gave his suffrage without envy, that all things should be one. It is also a multiform collected heap, capable of being venerated, praised and loved by those that behold it. For darkness shall be preferred to light, and death shall be judged to be more useful than life. No one shall lookup to heaven. The religious man shall be accounted insane, the irre¬ ligious shall be thought wise , the furious brave , and the worst of men shall be considered a good man . For the soul and all things about it, by which it is either naturally immortal, or conceives that it shall attain to immortality, conformably to what I have explained to you, shall not only be the subject of laughter, but shall be considered as vanity. Believe me, like¬ wise , that a capital punishment shall be appointed for him who applies himself to the religion of intellect. New statutes and new laws shall be established , and nothing religious or which is worthy of heaven*, or celestial concerns , shall be heard , or be¬ lieved by the mind. There will be a lamentable departure of 555 spectator of what will follow, He, likewise, then learnt some particulars about Osiris which would the Gods from men ,1 noxious angels % will alone remain , xvho being mingled with human nature will violently impel the mise¬ rable men [of that time\ to war, to rapine , to fraud , and to every thing contrary to the nature of the soul. Then the earth shall be in a preternatural state, the sea shall not be sailed in, nor shall the heavens accord with the course of the stars, nor the course of the stars continue in the heavens. Every divine voice shall be dumb by a necessary silence , the fruits of the earth shall be corrupted, nor shall the earth be prolific, and the air itself shall languish with a sorrowful torpor. These events and such an old age of the world as this shall take place, such irreligion, inordination, and unreasonableness of all good. When all these things shall happen, O Asclepius, thenlhat lord and father, the God who is first in power, and the one governor of the world, looking into the manners and voluntary deeds [of men], and by his will which is the benignity of God, resist¬ ing vices, and recalling the error arising from the corruption of all things, washing away likewise all malignity, by a de¬ luge, or consuming it by fire, or bringing it to an end by dis» ease and pestilence dispersed in different places, will recall the * Proclus finding that this was partially the case in his time, says prophetically in the Introduction to his MS. Commentary on the Par¬ menides of Plato, τούτον tyw φαιην ay τύπον φιλοσοφίας ιις ανθξωπους ιλθιιν cr’ ιυίξγισια των TijSt -^vy^wv, α,ντι των αγαλματων, αντί των ιΐξων, αντί της ύλης αγισταας άντης , και σωτήριας apyyyov τοις yi νυν ουσιν ανΟξωποις, και τοις %ισ ανθις γινησο (Λίνοις. i. e, tc With respect to this form of philosophy [viz. of the philosophy of Plato], I should say that it came to men for the benefit of terrestrial souls; that it might be instead of statues, in¬ stead of temples, instead of the whole of sacred institutions , and the leader of salvation both to the men that now are , and to those that shall exist hereafter ” a i. e. Evil daemons. 556 shortly happen, and others which would take place at some greater distance of time, viz. when the boy world to its ancient form, in order that the world itself may ap¬ pear to be an adorable and admirable production, and God the fabricator and restorer of so great a work, may be cele¬ brated by all that shall then exist* with frequent solemn praises and benedictions. For this geniture 1 of the world, is the re¬ formation of all good things, and the most holy and religious restitution of the nature of it, the course of time being accom¬ plished ; * since time is perpetual, and always was without a beginning. For the will of God is without beginning, is always the same, and is every where eternal.” Of this very remarkable extract, it is necessary to observe in the first place, that it was principally made by me from the edition of the Asclepian Dialogue, by Ficinus, as he appears to have had a more correct manuscript in his possession than any that have been consulted by more modem editors. Of this the learned, and at the same time philosophic, reader, will be immediately convinced, by comparing this extract with the same part of that dialogue in the most modern editions of it. 1 By the geniture of the world, the greater apucatastasis is signified, as is evident from Julius Firmicus; which restoration of things to their pristine state is, according to that author, accomplished in the space of three hundred thousand years. This great period compre¬ hends in itself, according to Petosyris and Necepso, six less periods, the last of which is under the dominion of Mercury, and abounds with improbity of every kind and inventions full of evil. “ Quia nobile in- genium in homine,” (says Firmicus) u unum vitae cursum servare non potest, ex variis institutis moribusque confusis malitiae crevit improbi- tas, et vitae scelerum flagitia, gens hominum hoc tempore, facinorosis machinationibus, et invenit et tradidit. Hac ex causa, ultimum tem¬ pos Mercuric tradendum putaverunt, ut ad imitationem istius syderis, inventa plena malitia, gens hominum conciperet potestatem.” α i. e. A mundane period being finished. Horns would chuse as his associate in battle^ a wolf instead of a lion. But who the wolf is3 is a In the second place, that this dialogue is of genuine antiquity and no forgery, is, I think, unquestionably evident from neither Lactantius nor Augustin having any doubt of its authenticity, though it was their interest to have proved it to be spurious if they could, because it predicts, which is the third thing espe¬ cially deserving of remark, that the memorials of the martyrs should succeed in the place of the temples of the Gods. Hence Augustin concludes this to be a prophecy or prediction made instinctu fallacis spirit us y by the instinct or suggestion of a de¬ ceitful spirit. But that this prediction was accomplished is evident, as Dr. Cudworth observes in his True Intellectual System of the Universe, p. 329· from the following passages of Theodoret, which I shall quote as translated by the Doctor. Si Now the martyrs have utterly abolished and blotted out of the minds of men, the memory of those who were formerly called Gods." And again, “ Our Lord hath now brought his dead (i. e. his martyrs) into the room and place (i. e. into the temples) of the Gods ; whom he hath sent away empty, and bestowed their honour upon these his martyrs. For now, in¬ stead of the festivals of Jupiter and Bacchus, are celebrated those of Peter and Paul, Thomas and Sergius, and other holy martyrs." Antoninus, the philosopher, also, according to Eu- napius, predicted the very same thing, viz. that after his de¬ cease, the magnificent temple of Serapis in Egypt, together with the rest, should be demolished, and the temples of the Gods be turned into sepulchres, και τα ιερά τάφους γενησεσβαί* And in the fourth and last place, the intelligent reader who compares this prediction with what is said about the philoso¬ phic stranger by Synesius in the foregoing extract will imme¬ diately see, that the former wonderfully accords with the latter. 558 sacred narration, which it is not holy to divulge, even in the form of a fable.3’ Typhos, however, through his tyranny, was at length dethroned, and Osiris recalled from exile ; and Synesius towards the end of this treatise ob¬ serves, “ that the blessed body which revolves in a circle, is the cause of the events in the sublunary world. For both are parts of the universe, and they have a certain relation to each other. If, therefore, the cause of generation 1 in the things which surround us, originates in the natures which are above us, it follows that the seeds of things which happen here descend from thence. And if some one should add, since astronomy imparts credibility to this, that there are apocatastatic 1 periods of the stars and spheres, some of which are simple but others compounded, such a one will partly accord with the Egyptians, and partly with the Grecians, and wall be perfectly wise from both, 1 Instead of ei δη yeveffis ev rois π ept ημάς, αίτια yeveaews €v rots νπερ ημάς, it is necessary to read conformably to the above translation, ei δη yeveueojs ev rois περί ημάς, curia γίνε· ται} k. λ. % i. e. Restitutions to a pristine form or condition. 559 conjoining intellect to science. A man of this kind, therefore, will not deny that in consequence of the same motions returning, effects also will re¬ turn together with their causes ; and that lives on the earth, generations, educations, dispositions and fortunes, will be the same with those that formerly existed. We must not wonder, therefore, if we behold a very ancient history verified in life, and should see things which flourished before our times, accord with what is unfolded in this narration ; and besides this, perceive that the forms which are inserted in matter, are consentaneous to the arcana of a fable.” * - \ · ■ ■' f I ■ * I Ti ll?· 'iff M *'.■■.’· s v·'*»· ' ■ ■ · ■’:■■■> : ' -ν' - ' * * · * \ J •I * ■ ' ■ , * i / ADDITIONAL NOTES. Page l. Intellectual "Prudence . The following ac- count of the virtues is extracted from the Notes to my Translation of the Phasdo of Plato : The first of the vir¬ tues are the physical, which are common to brutes, being mingled with the temperaments, and for the most part contrary to each other; or rather pertaining to the animal. Or it may be said that they are illuminations from reason, when not impeded by a certain bad temperament : or that they are the restilt of energies in a former life. Of these Plato speaks in the Politicus and the Laws. The ethi¬ cal virtues, which are above these, are ingenerated by custom and a certain right opinion, and are the virtues of children when well educated. These virtues also are to be found in some brute animals. They likewise transcend the temperaments, and on this account are not contrary to each other. These virtues Plato delivers in the Laws. They pertain however at the same time both to reason and the irrational nature. In the third rank above these Plot . 2 N 562 are the political virtues, which pertain to reason alone ; for they are scientific. But they are the virtues of reason adorning the irrational part as its instrument ; through prudence adorning the gnostic, through fortitude the iras¬ cible, and through temperance the epithymetic power, (or the power which is the source of desire ;) but adorning all the parts of the irrational nature through justice. And of these virtues Plato speaks much in the Republic. These virtues too follow each other. Above these are the cathartic virtues, which pertain to reason alone, with¬ drawing from other things to itself, throwing aside the instruments of sense as vain, repressing also the energies through these instruments, and liberating the soul from the bonds of generation. Plato particularly unfolds these virtues in the Phaedo. Prior to these however are the theoretic virtues, which pertain to the soul, introducing itself to natures superior to itself, not only gnostically, as some one maybe induced to think from the name, but also orectically : for it hastens to become, as it were, intellect instead of soul ; and intellect possesses both desire and knowledge. These virtues are the converse of the po^- litical : for as the latter energize about things subordinate according to reason, so the former about things more excellent according to intellect. These virtues Plato delivers in the Theaetetus. According to Plotinus, there is also another gradation 563 of the virtues besides these, viz. the paradigmatic. For, as our eye, when it is first illuminated by the solar light, is different from that which illuminates, as being illumi- nated, but afterwards is in a certain respect united and conjoined with it, and becomes as it were solar- form ; so also our soul at first indeed is illuminated by intellect, and energizes according to the theoretic virtues, but afterwards becomes, as it were, that which is illuminated, and ener¬ gizes uniformly according to the paradigmatic virtues. And it is the business indeed of philosophy to make us in¬ tellect ; but of theurgy to unite us to intelligibles, so that we may energize paradigmatically. And as when pos¬ sessing the physical virtues, wre know mundane bodies (for the subjects to virtues of this kind are bodies) ; so from possessing the ethical virtues, we know the fate of the universe, because fate is conversant with irrational lives. For the rational soul is not under fate ; and the ethical virtues are irrational, because they pertain to the irrational part. According to the political virtues we know mundane affairs, and according to the cathartic super¬ mundane ; but as possessing the theoretic we know intel¬ lectual, and from the paradigmatic intelligible natures. Temperance also pertains to the ethical virtues ; justice to the political, on account of compacts; fortitude to the cathartic, through not verging to matter ; and prudence to the theoretic. Observe too, that Plato in the Phaedo calls the physical virtues servile, because they may subsist 564 in servile so^ls ; but be calls the ethical <τκίογ^αφι«ί adum * brations, because their possessors only know that the energies of such virtues are right, but do not know why they are so. it is well observed too here, by Olympiodo» rus, that Plato calls the cathartic and theoretic virtues, those which are in reality true virtues. He also separates them in another way, viz. that the political are nottelestic, h e. do not pertain to mystic ceremonies, but that the cathartic and theoretic are telestic. Hence, Olympiodorus adds, the cathartic virtues are denominated from the puri¬ fication which is used in the mvsteries ; but the theoretic from perceiving things divine. On this account he accords with the Orphic verses, that The soul that uninitiated dies, Plung’d in the blackest mire in Hades lies. For initiation is the divinely-inspired energy of the virtues. Olympiodorus also further observes, that by the thyrsus- bearers, Plato means those that energize according to the political virtues, but by the Bacchuses those that exercise th^ cathartic virtues. For we are bound in matter as Ti¬ tans, through the great partibility of our nature ; but we rise from the dark mire as Bacchuses. Hence we become more prophetic at the time of death : and Bacchus is the inspective guardian of death, because he is likewise of every thing pertaining to the Bacchic sacred rites. All the virtues likewise exhibit their proper characters, 565 these being every where common, blit subsisting appro¬ priately in each. For the characteristic property of for¬ titude is the not declining to things subordinate ; of tem¬ perance, a conversion from an inferior nature; of justice, a proper energy, and which is adapted to being ; and of prudence, the election and selection of things good and evil. Olympiodorus farther observes, that all the virtues are in the Gods. For many Gods, says he, are adorned with their appellations ; and all goodness originates from the Gods. Likewise, prior to things which sometimes participate the virtues, as is our case, it is necessary there should be natures which always participate them. In vvliat order, therefore, do the virtues first appear ? Shall we say in the psychical ? For virtue is the perfection of the soul ; and election and pre-election are the energies and projections of the soul. Hence the Chaldaean oracles (■ conjoin fontal virtue with fontal soul, or in other words, with soul subsisting according to cause. But may it not also be said, that the virtues naturally wish to give an or¬ derly arrangement to that which is disordered? If this be admitted, they will originate from the demiurgic order. How then will they be cathartic there? May we not say, Olympiodorus adds, that through the cathartic virtues considered according to their causal subsistence in Jupiter the demiurgus, he is enabled to abide in his accustomed mode, as Plato says in the Tiinaeus ? And farther still, according to ancient theologists, he ascends to the tow er of Saturn, who is a pure intellec t. 566 Λ» this distribution of the virtues, however, is at presort no less novel than important, the following discussion of them from the Αφοξμ,χι προς τα νοητά, or Auxin aiues το Intelligibi*es, of Porphyry, is added both for the sake of the philosophic reader, and because it elucidates what is said by Plotinus on this subject. The substance of it is indeed evidently derived from Plotinus. u There is one kind of virtues pertaining to the politi¬ cal character, and another to the man who tends to con¬ templation, and on this account is called theoretic, and is now a beholder. And there are also other virtues per¬ taining to intellect, so far as it is intellect, and separate from soul. The virtues indeed of the political character, and which consist in the moderation of the passions, are characterised by following and being obedient to the rea¬ soning about that which is becoming in actions. Hence, looking to an innoxious converse with neighbours, they are denominated, from the aggregation of fellowship, po¬ litical. And prudence indeed subsists about the reason¬ ing part ; fortitude about the irascible part ; temperance, in the consent and symphony of the epithymetic with the reasoning part ; and justice in each of these performing its proper employment with respect to governing and being governed. But the virtues of him who proceeds to the contemplative life, consist in a departure from terrestrial concerns, Hence also, they are called purification's, 567 being surveyed io the refraining from corporeal actions, and avoiding sympathies with the body. For these are the virtues of the soul elevating itself to true being. The political virtues, therefore, adorn the mortal man, and are the forerunners of purifications. For it is necessary that he who is adorned by these, should abstain from doing any thing precedaneously in conjunction with body. Flence in purifications, not to opine with body, but to energize alone, gives subsistence to prudence ; which derives its perfection through energizing intellectually with purity. But not to be similarly passive with the body, constitutes temperance. Not to fear a departure from body as into something void, and nonentity, gives subsistence to fortitude. But when reason and intellect are the leaders, and there is no resistance [from the irra¬ tional part,] justice is produced. The disposition there¬ fore, according to the political virtues, is surveyed in the moderation of the passions ; having for its end to live as man conformable to nature. But the disposition accord¬ ing to the theoretic virtues, is beheld in apathy the end of which is a similitude to God. “ Since, however, of purification one kind consists in purifying, but another pertains to those that are purified, 1 This philosophic apathy is not, as is stupidly supposed by most of the present day, insensibility, but a perfect subjugation of the passions to reason. 568 the cathartic virtues are surveyed according to both these significations of purification ; for they purify the soul, and are present with purification. For the end of purification is to become pure. But since purification, and the being purified, are an ablation of every thing foreign, the good resulting from them will be different from that which puri¬ fies ; so that if that which is purified was good prior to the impurity with which it is defiled, purification is suf¬ ficient. That, however, which remains after purification, is good, and not purification. The nature of the soul also was not good, but is that which is able to partake of good, and is boniform. For if this were not the case, it would not have become situated in evil. The good, therefore, of the soul consists in being united to its generator ; but its evil, in an association with things subordinate to itself. Its evil also is tw ofold ; the one arising from an associa¬ tion with terrestrial natures ; but the other from doing this with an excess of the passions. Hence all the poli¬ tical virtues, which liberate the soul from one evil, may be denominated virtues, and are honourable. But the ca¬ thartic are more honourable, and liberate it from evil, so far as it is sopl. It is necessary, therefore, that the soul when purified should associate with its generator. Hence the virtue of it after its conversion consists in a scientific knowledge of [true] being; but this will not be the case unless conversion precedes. 569 “ There is therefore another genus of virtues after the cathartic and political, and which are the virtues of the soul energizing intellectually. And here, indeed, wisdom and prudence consist in the contemplation of those things which intellect possesses. But justice consists in per¬ forming what is appropriate iff a conformity to, and ener¬ gizing according to intellect. Temperance is an inward conversion of the soul to intellect. And fortitude is apathy ; according to a similitude of that to which the soul looks, and which is naturally impassive. These virtues also, in the same manner as the others, alternately follow each other. “ The fourth species of the virtues, is that of the para¬ digms subsisting in intellect ; which are more excellent than the psychical virtues, and exist as the paradigms of these ; the virtues of the soul being the similitudes of them. And intellect indeed is that in which all things subsist at once as paradigms. Here, therefore, pru¬ dence is science ; but intellect that knows [all things] is wisdom. Temperance is that which is converted to itself. The proper W’ork of intellect, is the performance of its appropriate duty, [and this is justice1]. But fortitude j§ 1 The words iimioa-υνη are omitted in the original. But it is evident from Plotinus, that they ought to be inserted. 570 is sameness, and the abiding with purity in itself, through an abundance of power. There are therefore four genera of virtues ; of which, indeed, some pertain to intellect, concur with the essence of it, and are paradigmatic. Others pertain to soul now looking to intellect, and being filled from it. Others belong to the soul of man, purify¬ ing itself, and becoming purified from the body, and the irrational passions. And others are the virtues of the soul of man, adorning the man, through giving measure and bound to the irrational nature, and producing moderation in the passions. And he, indeed, who has the greater vir¬ tues has also necessarily the less; but the contrary is not / true, that he who has the less has also the greater virtues. IN or will he who possesses the greater, energize preceda- neously according to the less, but only so far as the neces¬ sities of the mortal nature require. The scope also of the virtues, is, as we have said, generically different in the different virtues. For the scope of the political virtues, is to give measure to the passions in their practical ener¬ gies according to nature. But the scope of the cathartic virtues, is entirely to obliterate the remembrance of the passions. And the scope of the rest subsists analogously to what has been before said. Hence, he who energizes according to the practical virtues, is a worthy man : but he who energizes according to the cathartic virtues, is a demoniacal man , or is also a good demon . He who energizes according to the intellectual virtues alone, is a 571 God. But he who energizes according to the paradig¬ matic virtues, is the fat, her of the Gods. We, therefore, ought especially to pay attention to the cathartic virtues, since we may obtain these in the present life. But through these, the ascent is to the more honourable virtues. Hence it is requisite to survey to what degree purification may be extended. For it is a separation from body, and from the passive motion of the irrational part. But how this may be effected, and to what extent, must now be said. u In the first place, indeed, it is necessary that he who in¬ tends to acquire this purification, should, as the founda¬ tion and basis of it, know himself to be a soul bound in a foreign thing, and in a different essence. In the second place, as that which is raised from this foundation, he should collect himself from the body, and as it were from different places, so as to be disposed in a manner perfectly impassive with respect to the body. For he who ener¬ gizes uninterruptedly according to sense, though he may not do this with an adhering affection, and the enjoyment resulting from pleasure, yet at the same time his attention is dissipated about the body, in consequence of becoming through sense 1 in contact with it. But we are addicted to the pleasures or pains of sensibles, in conjunction with 1 Instead of here, it is necessary to read κ*τ’ αισ^ηα-ιν. 572 a promptitude, and converging sympathy ; from which disposition it is requisite to be purified. This, however , will be effected by admitting necessary 'pleasures , and the sensations of them , merely as remedies , or as a liberation from pain , in order that [the rational par C\ may not be impeded \in its energies .] Pain also must be taken away. But if this is not possible, it must be mildly diminished. And it will be diminished, if the soul is not copassive with it. Anger, likewise, must as much as possible be taken away ; and must by no means be premeditated. But if it cannot be entirely removed, deliberate choice must not be mingled with it, but the unpremeditated motion must be the impulse of the irrational part. That however which is unpremeditated is imbecile and small . All fear, likewise, must be expelled. For he who requires this purification, will fear nothing. Here, however, if it should take place, it will be unpremeditated. Anger therefore and fear must be used for the purpose of admonition. But the desire of every thing base must be exterminated. Such a one also, so far as he is a cathartic philosopher, will not desire meats and drinks. Neither must there be the unpremedi¬ tated in natural venereal connexions; but if this should take place , it must only be as far as to that precipitate imagination which energizes in sleep. In short, the intel¬ lectual soul itself of the purified man, must be liberated from all these [corporeal propensities.] He must like¬ wise endeavour that what is moved to the irrational nature of corporeal passions, may be moved without sympathy, and without animadversion ; so that the motions them¬ selves may be immediately dissolved, through their vicinity to the reasoning power. This, however, will not take place while the purification is proceeding to its perfection ; but will happen to those in whom reason rules without opposition. Hence in these, the inferior part wall so venerate reason, that it will be indignant if it is at all moved, in consequence of not being quiet when its master is present, and will reprove itself for its imbecility. These, however, are yet only moderations of the passions, but at length terminate in apathy. For when co-passivity is entirely exterminated, then apathy is present with him who is purified from it. For passion becomes moved, when reason imparts excitation, through verging [to the irrational nature.”] Page 13. The endeavour is not to he without sin, hut to be a God. Tiiat is, to be a God according to a simili¬ tude to divinity itself. For through this similitude, good men are also called by Plato Gods. Hence, too, Empe¬ docles says of himself, χαιρετ εγω δ’ υμμιν, ύεος αρ-βροτος ουχ ετι ύνητος., “ Farewell, no mortal, but a God am IT From this magnificent conception of human nature by the Pythagoreans and Plato, considered according to its true condition, the iofty language of the Stoics about their wise man was doubtless derived. For they assert of him that he possesses continual hilarity, and sublime joy ; that he is blessed even in torments ; that he is without perturbation, because he is stable and remote from error; that he does not opine, because he does not assent to any thing false ; that nothing happens to him contrary to his expectation ; and that he is sufficient to himself, or is con¬ tented with himself alone, so far as pertains to living bless¬ edly, and not to merely living ; for to the latter many things are necessary, but to the former nothing is requisite but a sane and erect mind which looks down upon fortune with contempt. They farther add, that all things are the pro¬ perty of the wise man, and that he alone is to be con¬ sidered rich, because he uses all things in the way in which they ought to be used, and because he alone pos¬ sesses the virtues, which are more precious than all trea¬ sures. That he alone is free, but that all bad men are slaves : for he neither fears any thing, nor does any thing cause him to grieve, nor is he subservient to any subordi¬ nate nature. That he alone is a king ; for he governs both himself, and others. Hence Seneca, “ Are you wil¬ ling to have great honour, I will give you a great empire i obtain dominion over yourself.” And lastly they add, that the wise man is obnoxious to no injury. For, as Seneca says in his treatise .De Constantia Sapientis, u Fortune takes away nothing except that which she gave ; but she does not give virtue, and therefore does not take it away. Virtue is free^ inviolable, unmoved, unshaken, and so hardened against casualties, that she cannot even be made to incline, mnch less can she be vanquished. Hence the wise man loses nothing of which he will perceive the loss ; for he is in the possession of virtue, from which he can never be driven, and he uses every thing else as something different from his proper good. If, therefore, an injury cannot hurt any of those things which are the property of a wise man, because they are safe through virtue, an injury cannot be done to a wise man.’’ And afterwards, speaking of Stilpo the philosopher, who on being asked by Demetrius whether he had lost any thing by the capture ot Megara, answered that he had lost nothing ; for, said he, all that is mine is with me ; and yet his patrimony was a part of the plunder, and the enemy had ravished his daughters, and conquered his country ; speaking of this very extraordinary man, he observes as follows. α Stilpo shook off victory from the conqueror, and testified that though the city was taken, he himself was not only un- conquered, but without loss ; for he had with him true goods, upon which no hand can be laid. Whatever may be dissipated and plundered, he did not consider as his own, but as a thing adventitious, and which follows the nod of fortune, and hence he did not love it as his proper good. It must therefore be admitted that this perfect man, who was full of human and divine virtues, lost nothing. His goods were begirt with solid and insur¬ mountable fortifications. You must not compare with these the walls of Babylon, which Alexander entered ; nor the walls of Carthage or Numantia, which were captured by one hand ; nor the Capitol, or the citadel ; for these pos¬ sess an hostile vestige. But the walls which defend the wise man are safe from flames and incursion ; they afford no entrance, are unconquerable, and so lofty that they reach even to the Gods.” Agreeably to this, also, the great Socrates said with a magnanimity which has seldom been equalled, and never surpassed, εμε δε Ανυτος xu) Μελιτος αποχτε ivut μεν Ιυνανται, βλαψαι δε ου δννανταο Anytus and Melitus may indeed put me to death, but they cannot injure me.” These magnificent conceptions, and this elevated lan¬ guage arising from the cultivation of true virtue and wis¬ dom, were no longer to be found when the hand of bar¬ baric despotism abolished the schools of the philosophers. For then, as a necessary consequence, a night of ignorance succeeded, which is without a parallel in the history of any period ; and Philosoplnq accompanied by all the great virtues, retired from the Cimmerian darkness into the splendid and dignified solitude in which the Genius of antiquity resides. Page 18. Dialectic. For the sake of the truly pbilo- 577 sophic reader who may not have my translation of Plato in his possession* the following additional observations on that master science* dialectic* are extracted from the 3d volume of that translation* and principally from the notes on the Parmenides. The method of reasoning employed by the dialectic of Plato, was invented by the Eleatic Zeno the disciple of Parmenides, and is as follows : Two hypotheses being laid down, viz. if a thing is, and if it is not, each of these may be tripled, by considering in each what happens, what does not happen, what happens and at the same time does not happen ; so that six cases will be the result. But since* if a thing is, we may consider itself either with respect to itself, or itself with respect to others ; or we may consider others themselves with respect to them» selves, or others with respect to that thing itself, and so likewise if a thing is not : hence the whole of this process will consist of eight triads, which are the fol¬ lowing. 1 . If a thing is, what happens to itself with respect to itself, what does not happen, what hap¬ pens and at the same time does not happen. 2. If a thing is, what happens to itself with respect to others, * what does not happen, what happens and at the same time does not happen. 3. If a thing is, what happens to others with respect to themselves, what does not happen, what happens and at the same time does not happen. 4, * Plot. % O ο78 If a thing is, what happens to others with respect to that thing, what does not happen, w hat happens and at the same time does not happen. And the other four, which are founded on the hypothesis that a thing is not , are to be distributed in exactly the same manner as those we have just enumerated. Such (says Proclus in MS* Commen. in Parmenid.) is the whole form of the dialectic method, which is both intellectual and scientific ; and un¬ der which those four powers the definitive and divisive , the demonstrative and analytic , receive their consummate perfection. The Parmenides of Plato gives a specimen of this method logically and synoptically ; comprehending in eight the above-mentioned four and twenty modes. Plato also adds, that the end of this exercise is the perception of truth. u We must not, therefore,” says Proclus, "con¬ sider him as simply speaking of scientific truth, but of that which is intelligible, or which, in other words, subsists according to a superessential characteristic. For the whole of our life is an exercise to the vision of this ; and the wandering through dialectic hastens to that as its port. V Hence Plato in a wonderful manner uses the word Bioips * i. e. Not being soul, it has not the essence of soul; but this does not prevent it from being something else. For the hypo¬ thesis is, if soul is not, which is equivalent to th§ assertion that if a thing is not soul, it is something else. 585 deed a being, but unconnected with soul. For thus it is different from bodies, since these are perpetually connect¬ ed with soul : and again, it is not different from bodies, so far as it has no subsistence, and is not. And this forms the third hexad. In the fourth place then, if soul is not, the consequen¬ ces to bodies with respect to themselves are, the immove¬ able, privation of difference according to life, and the privation of sympathy with each other. The consequences which do not follow are, a sensible knowledge of each other, and to be moved from themselves. That which follows and does not follow is, to be passive to each other. For in one respect they would be passive, and in another not ; since they would be alone corporeally and not vitally passive. I Again, if soul is not, the consequences to other things with respect to it are, not to be taken care of, nor to be moved by soul. The consequences which do not follow are, to be vivified and connected by souh The con¬ sequences which follow and do not follow are, to be assimilated and not assimilated to soul. For so far a§ soul having no subsistence, neither will bodies subsist, so far they will be assimilated to soul ; for they will suffer the same with it; but so far as it is impossible for that which is not to be similar to any thing, so far bodies 58 6 * will have no similitude to soul. And this forms the fourth and last hexad. Hence we conclude, that soul is the cause of life, sympathy and motion to bodies ; and in short, of their being and preservation. For soul subsisting, these are at the same time introduced ; but not subsisting, they are at the same time taken away. P. 191. Note. Hence there is something even beyond the one*-*—' The most sublime of the arcane dogmas of the Platonic Theology is this, that the ineffable principle of things is some thing even beyond the one , as is demonstrated by Proclus in his second book On the Theology of Plato, and particularly by Datnascius in bis MS. treatise περί αρχών, On Principles. See my translation of the former of these works, and of an extract from the latter in the Additional Notes at the end of the third Volume of my Plato, and in my Dissertation on the Philosophy of Aristotle. From this extract, the following observations are selected. “ The one is not the one as that which is smallest, but it is the one as all things. For by its own simplicity it accedes to all things, and makes all things to be one. Hence all things proceed from it, because it is itself all things prior to all. And as that which has an united subsistence is prior to things which are separated from each other, so the one is many prior to the many » 587 All things, therefore, are from the one , and with reference to the one , as we are accustomed to say. If then accord¬ ing to a more usual manner of speaking, we call things which consist in multitude and separation all things , we must admit that the united , and in a still greater degree the one , are the principles of these. But if we consider these two as all things, and assume them in conjunction with all other things, according to habitude and co-ordina¬ tion with them, we must then investigate another principle prior to all things, which it is no longer proper to consider in any way as all things, nor to co-arrange with its progeny. For if some one should say that the one, though it is all things which have in any respect a subsistence, yet is one prior to all things , and is more one than all things ; since it is one by itself, but all things as the cause of all, and according to a co-ordination with all things ; — if this should be said, the one will thus be doubled, and we ourselves shall become doubled, and multiplied about its simplicity. For, by being the one it is all things after the most simple manner. At the same time also, though this should be said, it is necessary that the principle pf all things should be exempt from all things, and consequently that it should be exempt from the most simple allness r and from a simplicity absorbing all things, such as is that of the one. Our soul, therefore, prophesies that the prin¬ ciple which is beyond all things that can in any respect be conceived, is uncoordinated with all things. Neither, 588 therefore, must it be called principle nor cause, nor that which is first nor prior to all things, nor beyond all things. By no means, therefore, must we celebrate it as all things, nor, in short, is it to be celebrated, or recalled into memory. We may also add, that the one is the summit of the many, as the cause of the things proceeding from it : and that we form a conception of the one according to a purified suspicion extended to that which is most simple and most comprehensive. But that which is most vene¬ rable must necessarily be incomprehensible by all concep- \ lions and suspicions ; since also in other things, that which always soars beyond our conceptions is more honour¬ able than that which is more obvious ; so that what dies fro in all our suspicions will be most honourable. But if this be the case, it is nothing. Let however nothing be twofold, one better than the one, the other posterior to sensibles. If also we strive in vain in asserting these things, striving in vain is likewise twofold ; the one falling into the ineffable, the other into that which in no respect what¬ ever has any subsistence. For the latter also is ineffable, as Plato says, yet according to the worse, but the former according to the better. If, too, we search for a certain advantage arising from it, this is the most necessary advan¬ tage of all others, that all things proceed as from an ady¬ tum, from the ineffable, and in an ineffable manner. For neither do they proceed as the one produces the many , nor as the united things separated , but as the ineffable similar- 589 ϊν produces all things ineffably, But if in asserting these things concerning it, that it is ineffable, that it is no one of all things, that it is incomprehensible, we subvert what we say, it is proper to know that these are the names and words of our parturitions, daring anxiously to explore it, and which, standing in the vestibules of the adytum, announce indeed nothing pertaining to the ineffable, but signify the manner in which we are affected about it, our doubts and disappointments ; nor yet this clearty, but through indications to such as are able to understand these investigations. We also see that our parturitions suffer these things about the one , and that in a similar manner they are solicitous and subverted. For the one, says Plato, if it is , is not the one . But if it is not, no assertion can be adapted to it : so that neither can there be a negation of it, nor can any name be given to it ; for neither is a name simple. Nor is there any opinion nor science of it. For neither are these simple ; nor is intellect itself simple. So that the one is in every respect unknown and ineffable. “ What then ? Shall we investigate something else beyond the ineffable ? Or perhaps, indeed, Plato leads us ineffa¬ bly through the one as a medium, to the ineffable beyond the one which is now the subject of discussion ; and this bv an ablation of the one , in the same manner as he leads us to the one by an ablation of other things. But if hav¬ ing ascended as far as to the one he is silent, this also is t becoming in Plato to be perfectly silent, after the manner of the ancients, concerning things in every respect un¬ speakable; for the discourse was indeed most dangerous in consequence of falling on idiotical ears. Hence that which is beyond the one is to be honoured in the most perfect silence, and prior to this, by the most perfect ignorance, which despises all knowledge.” 4 And in another part of the same admirable work, he further observes : u Ascending therefore to the one , shall we meet with it as that which is known ? Or wishing to meet with it as such shall we arrive at the unknown ? May we not say that each of these is true? For we meet with it afar off as that which is known ; and when we are united to it from afar, passing beyond that in our nature which is gnostic of the one , then are we brought to be one, that is to be unknown instead of being gnostic. This contact, therefore, as of one with one, is above know¬ ledge, but the other is as of that which is gnostic with that which is known. As, however, the crooked is known by the straight, so we form a conjecture of the unknown 1 As that which is below all knowledge is an ignorance worse than knowledge, so the silence in which our ascent to the ineffa¬ ble terminates, is succeeded by an ignorance superior to all know¬ ledge. Let it however be carefully remembered, that such an ignorance is only to be obtained after the most scientific and intellectual energies. 591 by the known. And this indeed is a mode of knowledge* The one , therefore, is so far known, that it does not admit of an approximating knowledge, but appears afar off as known, and imparts a gnostic indication of itself. Unlike other things, however, the nearer we approach to it, it is not the more, but on the contrary less known 5 knowledge being dissolved by the one into ignorance, since as we have before observed where there is knowledge there is also separation. But separation approaching to the one is inclosed in union ; so that knowledge also is refunded into ignorance. This, too, the analogy of Plato requires. For first, we endeavour to see the sun, and we do indeed see it afar off ; but by how much the nearer we approach «■> to it, by so much the less do we see it : and at length, we neither see other things nor it, the eye becoming spontane¬ ously dazzled by its light. Is therefore the one in its proper nature unknown, though there is something else un¬ known beside the one ? The one indeed wills to be by itself, but with no other ; but the unknown, beyond the one, is per¬ fectly ineffable, w hich we acknowledge we neither know, nor are ignorant of, but which has about itself super-ignorance. Hence by proximity to this Ιΐίβ one itself is darkened : for being very near to the immense principle, if it be lawful so to speak, it remains as it were in the adytum of that truly mystic silence. On this account, Plato in speaking of it finds all his assertions subverted: for it is 592 near to the subversion of every thing, which takes place about the first. It differs from it however in this, that it is one simply, and that according to the one it is also at the same time all things. But the first is above the one and all things, being more simple than either of these.” P. 558. There are apocatastatic periods of the stars and. spheres. Of these periods of the stars, which are the causes of fertility and sterility in the sublunary region, Plato speaks in the 8th book of his Republic. And as what he says on this subject is no less obscure than important, I shall pre¬ sent the reader with the following attempt to elucidate his meaning, and to develope the mysteries of the geometric number, which he observes is the author of better and worse generations. The whole is extracted from the notes to my translation of the Republic. In the first place, then, the passage respecting this num¬ ber is as follows : u It is indeed difficult for a city thus constituted to be changed ; but as every thing which is generated is obnoxious to corruption, neither will such a constitution as this remain for ever, but be dissolved. And its dissolution is this. Not only with respect to ter¬ restrial plants, but likewise in terrestrial animals, a fer¬ tility and sterility of soul as well as of body takes place. 593 when the revolutions of the heavenly bodies complete the periphery of their respective orbits, which are shorter to the shorter-lived, and contrariwise to such as are the contrary. And with reference to the fertility and sterility of our race, although those are wise that you have edu¬ cated to be governors of cities, yet will they never by rea¬ son in conjunction with sense, observe the proper seasons, but overlook them, and sometimes generate children when they ought not. But the period to that which is divinely generated is that which the perfect number comprehends ; and to that which is generated by man, that period in which the augmentations surpassing and surpassed, when they shall have received three restitutions and four bound¬ aries of things assimilating and dissimilating, increasing and decreasing, shall render all things correspondent and effable ; of which the sesquitertian progeny, when con¬ joined with the pentad, and thrice increased, affords two harmonies. One of these, the equally equal, is a hun¬ dred times a hundred ; but the other, of equal length indeed, but more oblong, is of a hundred numbers from effable diameters of pentads, each being deficient by unity, and from two numbers that are ineffable, and from a hun¬ dred cubes of the triad. But the whole geometric number of this kind, is the author of better and worse generations ; of which when our governors being ignorant, join our couples together unseasonably, the children shall neither be of a good genius, nor fortunate/’ Plot. 2P oD4 In the second place, with respect to the meaning of what is here said by Plato, as to the periodical mutation of things in the sublunary region, it must be observed, that all the parts of the universe are unable to participate of the providence of divinity in a similar manner, but some of its parts enjoy this eternally, and others temporally ; some in a primary, and others in a secondary degree. For the universe being a perfect whole, must have a first, a middle, and a last part. But its first parts as having the most excellent subsistence, must always exist according to nature ; and its last parts must sometimes subsist ac¬ cording to, and sometimes contrary to nature. Hence the celestial bodies, which are the first parts of the universe, perpetually subsist according to nature, both the whole spheres, and the multitude co-ordinate to these w holes ; and the only alteration which they experience, is a muta¬ tion of figure, and variation of light at different periods. But in the sublunary region, while the spheres of the ele¬ ments remain on account of their subsistence as wholes, always according to nature, the parts of these wholes have sometimes a natural, and sometimes an unnatural subsist¬ ence ; for thus alone can the circle of generation unfold all the variety w'hich it contains. The different periods in which these mutations happen, are called by Plato, with great propriety, periods of fertility and sterility. For in these periods, a fertility or sterility of 595 men, animals, and plants, takes place ; so that in fertile periods, mankind will be both more numerous, and upon the whole, superior in mental and bodily endowments to the men of a barren period. And a similar reasoning must be extended to animals and plants. The so much celebrated heroic age, was the result of one of these fertile periods, in which men transcending the herd of mankind, both in practical and intellectual virtue, abounded on the earth. With respect to the epithet divinely generated , it is well observed by the Greek scholiast, t( that Plato does not mean by this either the whole world, though the epithet is primarily applicable to it, nor the celestial \ regions only, nor the sublunary world, but every thing which is perpetually and circularly moved , whether in the heavens, or under the moon ; so far as it is corporeal calling it generated, (for no body is self-subsistent,) but so far as it is perpetually moved, divine . For it imitates the most divine of things, which possess an ever-vigilant life. But with respect to the perfect number mentioned here by Plato, we must not only direct our attention to a per¬ fect number in vulgar arithmetic, — for this is rather num¬ bered than number, tends to perfection and is never perfect, as being always in generation,— but we must survey the cause of this number, which is indeed intellec¬ tual, but comprehends the definite boundary of every \ period of the world.” 596' In the third place let us consider what Plato means by augmentations surpassing and surpassed ; things assimi¬ lating and dissimilating, increasing and decreasing, corre¬ spondent and effable. Augmentations surpassing, are ratios of greater inequa¬ lity, viz. when the greater is compared to the less, and are multiples, super-particulars, super-partients, multiple su¬ per-particulars, and multiple super-partients. But mul¬ tiple ratio is, as we have elsewhere shown, when a greater quantity contains a less many times ; super-particular ratio is, when the greater contains the less quantity once, and some part of it besides ; and super-partient ratio is, when the greater contains the less quantity once, and certain parts of it likewise. Again, multiple super-parti¬ cular ratio is, when the greater contains the less many times, and some part of it besides ; and multiple super- partient ratio is, when the greater contains the less many times, and also some of its parts. But augmentations surpassed, are ratios of less inequality, viz. when the less is compared with the greater quantity ; as for instance, sub-multiples, sub-super-particulars, and sub-super-par- tients, and those which are composed from these three. Those numbers are called by Plato assimilating and dis¬ similating, which are denominated by arithmeticians simi¬ lar and dissimilar. And similar numbers are those whose sides are proportional, but dissimilar numbers those whose sides are not proportional. Plato also calls those 597 numbers increasing and decreasing, which arithmeticians denominate super-perfect and deficient, or more than per¬ fect and imperfect. Things correspondent and effable are boundaries which correspond in ratio with each other, and can be expressed in numbers either integral or fractional, — such as these four terms or boundaries, 27, 18, 12, 8, which are in sesquialter and sub-sesquialter ratios ; since these mutually correspond in ratio and are effable. For effable quantities are those which can be expressed in whole numbers or fractions ; and, in like manner, ineffable quantities are such as cannot be expressed in either of these, and are called by modern mathematicians surds. < * In the fourth place let U3 consider what we are to un¬ derstand by the sesquitertian progeny when conjoined with the pentad, and thrice increased, affording two harmonies . By the sesquitertian progeny, then, Plato means the num¬ ber 95. For this number is composed from the addition of the squares of the numbers 4 and 3, (i. e. 25,) which form the first sesquitertian ratio, and the number 70, which is composed from 40 and 30, and therefore consists of two numbers in a sesquitertian ratio. Hence, as 95 is com¬ posed from 25 and 70, it may with great propriety be called a sesquitertian progeny. This number conjoined with 5, and thrice increased, produces ten thousand and a 598 million. For 100x100=10,000, and 10,000x100= 1,000,000. But it must here be observed, that these two numbers, as will shortly be seen, appear to be considered by Plato as analogous to two parallelopipedons, the for¬ mer, viz. ten thousand, being formed from lOx 10 x 100, and the latter from 1000 X lOx 100. These two numbers are called by Plato two harmonies, for the following rea¬ son : — Simplicius, in his commentary on Aristotle’s trea¬ tise De Coelo, informs us, that a cube was denominated by the Pythagoreans harmony , because it consists of 12 bounding lines, 8 angles, and 6 sides ; and 12, 8, and 6, are \ in harmonic proportion. As a parallelopipedon, therefore, has the same number of sides, angles, and bounding lines, as a cube, the reason is obvious why the numbers 10,000 and 1,000,000, are called by Plato harmonies. Hence also, it is evident why he says, “ that the other of these harmonies (viz. a million,) is of equal length indeed, but more oblong.” For if we call 100 the breadth, and 10 the depth, both of ten thousand and a million, it is evi¬ dent that the latter number, when considered as produced by 1000x10x100, will be analogous to a more oblong parallelopipedon than the former. Again, when he says, “ that the number 1,000,000 con¬ sists of a hundred numbers from effable diameters of pentads, each being deficient by unity, and from two that are ineffable, and from a hundred cubes of the triad,” his 599 meaning is as follows. The number 1,000,000 consists of a hundred numbers, (i. e. of a hundred such numbers as 10,000,) each of which is composed from effable dia¬ meters of pentads, Sic. But in order to understand the truth of this assertion, the reader must recollect what has been delivered in chap. 34, of my Theoretic Arithmetic, viz. that there are certain numbers which are called by arithme¬ ticians effable diameters. These, also, are twofold ; for some are the diameters of even, and others of odd squares. And the diameters of effable even squares, when multiplied into themselves, produce square numbers, double of the squares of which they are the diameters, with an excess of unity. Thus, for instance, the number 3, multiplied into itself, produces 9, which is double of the square of the number 4, with an excess of unity ; and therefore 3 will be the diameter of the even square 4. But the diameters of effable odd square numbers, are in power double of the squares of w hich they are the diameters by a deficiency of unity. This being premised, it follows, that the num¬ ber 10,000 will consist of a certain number of heptads ; for 7 is the effable diameter of the square number 25. And, from what follows, it will be found that this number is 9S9- But the number 10,000, not only consists of 989 hep- tads, but Plato also adds, “ from two numbers that are ineffable,” viz. from two numbers the roots of which can- 600 not be exactly obtained nor expressed, either in whole numbers or fractions, such as the roots of the numbers 2 and 3. The numbers 300 and 77 are also of this kind ; and, as we shall see, appear to be the numbers signified by Plato. In the last place, he adds,