Guthrie-Plotinus: science

(k.) (The body could not possess either sensation, thought, or virtue.) If the soul were a body, she would not possess either sensation, thought, science, virtue, nor any of the perfections that render her more beautiful. Here follows the proof. [Ennead IV,7 (2) 6]

For he has ascended to the divinity, and has become assimilated thereto. As purification permits one to know the better things, so the notions we have within us, and which constitute real science, are made clear. Indeed, it is not by an excursion among external objects that the soul attains the intuition of wisdom and virtue, but by re-entering into herself, in thinking herself in her primitive condition. Then she clears up and recognizes in herself the divine statues, soiled by the rust of time. Likewise, if a piece of gold were animated and released itself from the earth by which it was covered, after first having been ignorant of its real nature because it did not see its own splendor, it would admire itself when considering itself in its purity; it would find that it had no need of a borrowed beauty, and would consider itself happy to remain isolated from everything else. [Ennead IV,7 (2) 10]

Which is this higher region? What must be done to reach it? One must be naturally disposed to love, and be really a born philosopher. In the presence of beauty, the lover feels something similar to the pains of childbirth; but far from halting at bodily beauty, he rises to that aroused in the soul by virtue, duties, science and laws. Then he follows them up to the cause of their beauty, and in this ascending progress stops only when he has reached the Principle that occupies the first rank, that which is beautiful in itself. Then only does he cease being driven by this torment that we compare to the pains of childbirth. [Ennead V,9 (5) 2]

Since the thought is something essentially one (?), the form, which is the object of thought, and the idea, are one and the same thing. Which is this thing? Intelligence and the intellectual “being,” for no idea is foreign to intelligence; each form is intelligence, and the whole intelligence is all the forms; every particular form is a particular intelligence. Likewise science, taken in its totality, is all the notions it embraces; every notion is a part of the total science; it is not separated from the science locally, and exists potentially in the whole science. Intelligence resides within itself, and by possessing itself calmly, is the eternal fulness of all things. If we conceived it as being prior to essence, we would have to say that it was the action and thought of Intelligence which produced and begat all beings. But as, on the contrary, it is certain that essence is prior to Intelligence, we should, within the thinking principle, first conceive the beings, then actualization and thought, just as (the nature) of fire is joined by the actualization of the fire, so that beings have innate intelligence as their actualization. Now essence is an actualization; therefore essence and intelligence are but a single actualization, or rather both of them fuse. Consequently, they form but a single nature, as beings, the actualization of essence, and intelligence. In this case the thought is the form, and the shape is the actualization of the being. When, however, in thought we separate essence from Intelligence, we must conceive one of these principles as prior to the other. The Intelligence which operates this separation is indeed different from the essence from which it separates; but the Intelligence which is inseparable from essence and which does not separate thought from essence is itself essence and all things. [Ennead V,9 (5) 8]

What then are the things contained within the unity of Intelligence which we separate in thinking of them? They must be expressed without disturbing their rest, and we must contemplate the contents of Intelligence by a science that somehow remains within unity. Since this sense-world is an animal which embraces all animals, since it derives both its general and special existence from a principle different from itself, a principle which, in turn, is derived from intelligence, therefore intelligence must itself contain the universal archetype, and must be that intelligible world of which Plato (well) says; “Intelligence sees the ideas contained within the existing animal.” Since an animal, whose (seminal) reason exists with the matter fit to receive it, must of course be begotten, so the mere existence of a nature that is intellectual, all-powerful, and unhindered by any obstacle — since nothing can interpose between it and the (substance) capable of receiving the form — must necessarily be adorned (or, created) by intelligence, but only in a divided condition does it reveal the form it receives, so that, for instance, it shows us on one hand a man, and on the other the sun, while intelligence possesses everything in unity. [Ennead V,9 (5) 9]

Last, whenever rhetoric, strategy, private and public finance and politics weave beauty in their deeds, and they glance above, they (discover) that they have added to their science a contribution from the intelligible science. [Ennead V,9 (5) 11]

The science of geometry, however, which deals (wholly) with intelligible entities, must be referred to the intelligible world. So also with philosophy, which occupies the first rank among sciences because it studies essence. This is all we have to say about arts and their products. [Ennead V,9 (5) 11]

It remains for us to study whether the intelligible world contains only what is in the sense-world, or whether we should distinguish from the individual soul the Soul itself, from the particular intelligence, Intelligence itself, as we have above distinguished the particular man from Man himself. We should not consider all things here below as images of archetypes, for instance, the soul of a man as the image of the Soul herself. Only degrees of dignity differentiate souls; but these souls are not the Soul itself. As the Soul itself exists really, it must also contain a certain wisdom, justice and science, which are not images of wisdom, justice, and intelligible science, as sense-objects are images of intelligible entities, but which are these very entities located here below in entirely different conditions of existence; for they are not locally circumscribed. Therefore when the soul issues from the body, she preserves these things within herself; for the sense-world exists only in a determinate place, while the intelligible world exists everywhere; therefore all that the soul contains here below is also in the intelligible world. Consequently if, by “sense-objects” we really mean “visible” things, then indeed the intelligible world contains entities not present in this sense-world. If, on the contrary, we include within the “sense-world” the soul and all she implies, then all things that are above are present here below also. [Ennead V,9 (5) 13]

Everything that exists after the First is derived therefrom, either directly or mediately, and constitutes a series of different orders such that the second can be traced back to the First, the third to the second, and so forth. Above all beings there must be Something simple and different from all the rest which would exist in itself, and which, without ever mingling with anything else, might nevertheless preside over everything, which might really be the One, and not that deceptive unity which is only the attribute of essence, and which would be a principle superior even to being, unreachable by speech, reason, or science. For if it be not completely simple, foreign to all complexity and composition, and be not really one, it could not be a principle. It is sovereignly absolute only because it is simple and first. For what is not first, is in need of superior things; what is not simple has need of being constituted by simple things. The Principle of everything must therefore be one and only. If it were admitted that there was a second principle of that kind, both would constitute but a single one. For we do not say that they are bodies, nor that the One and First is a body; for every body is composite and begotten, and consequently is not a principle; for a principle cannot be begotten. Therefore, since the principle of everything cannot be corporeal, because it must be essentially one, it must be the First. [Ennead V,4 (7) 1]

How can an essence be single in a multitude of souls? Either this one essence is entire in all souls, or this one and entire essence begets all souls while remaining (undiminished) in itself. In either case, the essence is single. It is the unity to which the individual souls are related; the essence gives itself to this multitude, and yet simultaneously the essence does not give itself; it can give of itself to all individual souls, and nevertheless remain single; it is powerful enough to pass into all simultaneously, and to be separated from none; thus its essence remains identical, while being present in a multitude of souls. This is nothing astonishing; all of science is entirely in each of its parts, and it begets them without itself ceasing to remain entire within itself. Likewise, a grain of seed is entire in each of its parts in which it naturally divides itself; each of its parts has the same properties as the whole seed; nevertheless the seed remains entire, without diminution; and if the matter (in which the seed resides) offer it any cause of division, all the parts will not any the less form a single unity. [Ennead IV,9 (8) 5]

It may be objected that in science a part is not the total science. Doubtless, the notion which is actualized, and which is studied to the exclusion of others, because there is special need of it, is only partially an actualization. Nevertheless, in a latent manner it potentially comprises all the other notions it implies. Thus, all the notions are contained in each part of the science, and in this respect each part is the total science; for what is only partially actualized (potentially) comprises all the notions of science. Each notion that one wishes to render explicit is at one’s disposition; and this in every part of the science that is considered; but if it be compared with the whole science, it seems to be there only potentially. It must not, however, be thought that the particular notion does not contain anything of the other notions; in this case, there would be nothing systematic or scientific about it; it would be nothing more than a sterile conception. Being a really scientific notion, it potentially contains all the notions of the science; and the genuine scientist knows how to discover all its notions in a single one, and how to develop its consequences. The geometrical expert shows in his demonstrations how each theorem contains all the preceding ones, to which he harks back by analysis, and how each theorem leads to all the following ones, by deduction. [Ennead IV,9 (8) 5]

The principal cause of our uncertainty is that our comprehension of the One comes to us neither by scientific knowledge, nor by thought, as the knowledge of other intelligible things, but by a presence which is superior to science. When the soul acquires the scientific knowledge of something, she withdraws from unity and ceases being entirely one; for science implies discursive reason and discursive reason implies manifoldness. (To attain Unity) we must therefore rise above science, and never withdraw from what is essentially One; we must therefore renounce science, the objects of science, and every other right (except that of the One); even to that of beauty; for beauty is posterior to unity, and is derived therefrom, as the day-light comes from the sun. That is why Plato says of (Unity) that it is unspeakable and undescribable. Nevertheless we speak of it, we write about it, but only to excite our souls by our discussions, and to direct them towards this divine spectacle, just as one might point out the road to somebody who desired to see some object. Instruction, indeed, goes as far as showing the road, and guiding us in the way; but to obtain the vision (of the divinity), is the work suitable to him who has desired to obtain it. [Ennead VI,9 (9) 4]

Such as imagine that beings are governed by luck or chance, and that they depend on material causes are far removed from the divinity, and from the conception of unity. It is not such men that we are addressing, but such as admit the existence of a nature different from the corporeal one, and who at least rise (to an acknowledgment of the existence of) the Soul. These should apply themselves to the study of the nature of the soul, learning, among other truths, that she proceeds from Intelligence, and that she can achieve virtue by participating in Intelligence through reason. They must then acknowledge the existence of an Intelligence superior to the intelligence that reasons, namely, to discursive reason. They must (also realize) that reasonings imply an interval (between notions), and a movement (by which the soul bridges this interval). They must be brought to see that scientific knowledge consists also of reasons of the same nature (namely, rational notions), reasons suitable to the soul, but which have become clear, because the soul has received the succession of intelligence which is the source of scientific knowledge. By intelligence (which belongs to her), the soul sees the divine Intellect, which to it seems sensual, in this sense that it is perceptible by intelligence, which dominates the soul, and is her father; that is, the intelligible world, a calm intellect which vibrates without issuing from its tranquility, which contains everything, and which is all. It is both definite and indefinite manifoldness, for the ideas it contains are not distinct like the reasons (the rational notions), which are conceived one by one. Nevertheless, they do not become confused. Each of them becomes distinct from the others, just as in a science all the notions, though forming an indivisible whole, yet each has its own separate individual existence. This multitude of ideas taken together constitutes the intelligible world. This is the (entity) nearest to the First. Its existence is inevitably demonstrated by reason, as much as the necessity of the existence of the Soul herself; but though the intelligible world is something superior to the Soul, it is nevertheless not yet the First, because it is neither one, nor simple, while the one, the principle of all beings, is perfectly simple. [Ennead VI,9 (9) 5]

(As Nicholas of Damascus used to say) the totality of a science is divided into particular propositions, without, however, thereby being broken up into fragments, inasmuch as each proposition contains potentially the whole science, whose principle and goal coincide. Likewise, we should so manage ourselves that each of the faculties we possess within ourselves should also become a goal and a totality; and then so arrange all the faculties that they will be consummated in what is best in our nature (that is, intelligence). Success in this constitutes “dwelling on high” (living spiritually); for, when one possesses the intelligible, one touches it by what is best in oneself. [Ennead III,9 (13) 2]

What then is this dialectics, knowledge of which must be added to mathematics? It is a science which makes us capable of reasoning about each thing, to say what it is, in what it differs from the others, in what it resembles them, where it is, whether it be one of the beings, to determine how many veritable beings there are, and which are the objects that contain nonentity instead of veritable essence. This science treats also of good and evil; of everything that is subordinated to (being), the Good, and to its contrary; of the nature of what is eternal, and transitory. It treats of each matter scientifically, and not according to mere opinion. Instead of wandering around the sense-world, it establishes itself in the intelligible world; it concentrates its whole attention on this world, and after having saved our soul from deceit, dialectics “pastures our soul in the meadow of truth,” (as thought Plato). Then it makes use of the Platonic method of division to discern ideas, to define each object, to rise to the several kinds of essences (as thought Plato); then, by thought concatenating all that is thence derived, dialectics continues its deductions until it has gone through the whole domain of the intelligible. Then, by reversing, dialectics returns to the very Principle from which first it had started out. Resting there, because it is only in the intelligible world that it can find rest, no longer needing to busy itself with a multitude of objects, because it has arrived at unity, dialectics considers its logic, which treats of propositions and arguments. This logic is an art subordinate to dialectics just as writing is subordinate to thought. In logic, dialectics recognizes some principles as necessary, and others as constituting preparatory exercises. Then, along with everything else, subjecting these principles to its criticism, it declares some of them useful, and others superfluous, or merely technical. [Ennead I,3 (20) 4]

Whence does this science derive its proper principles? Intelligence furnishes the soul with the clear principles she is capable of receiving. Having discovered and achieved these principles, dialectics puts their consequences in order. Dialectics composes, and divides, till it has arrived at a perfect intelligence of things; for according to (Plato), dialectics is the purest application of intelligence and wisdom. In this case, if dialectics be the noblest exercise of our faculties, it must exercise itself with essence and the highest objects. Wisdom studies existence, as intelligence studies that which is still beyond existence (the One, or the Good). But is not philosophy also that which is most eminent? Surely. But there is no confusion between philosophy and dialectics, because dialectics is the highest part of philosophy. It is not (as Aristotle   thought) merely an instrument for philosophy, nor (as Epicurus   thought) made up of pure speculations and abstract rules. It studies things themselves, and its matter is the (real) beings. It reaches them by following a method which yields reality as well as the idea. Only accidentally does dialectics busy itself with error and sophisms. Dialectics considers them alien to its mission, and as produced by a foreign principle. Whenever anything contrary to the rule of truth is advanced, dialectics recognizes the error by the light of the truths it contains. Dialectics, however, does not care for propositions, which, to it, seem only mere groupings of letters. Nevertheless, because it knows the truth, dialectics also understands propositions, and, in general, the operations of the soul. Dialectics knows what it is to affirm, to deny, and how to make contrary or contradictory assertions. Further, dialectics distinguishes differences from identities, grasping the truth by an intuition that is as instantaneous as is that of the senses; but dialectics leaves to another science, that enjoys those details, the care of treating them with exactness. [Ennead I,3 (20) 5]

Dialectics, therefore, is only one part of philosophy, but the most important. Indeed, philosophy has other branches. First, it studies nature (in physics), therein employing dialectics, as the other arts employ arithmetic, though philosophy owes far more to dialectics. Then philosophy treats of morals, and here again it is dialectics that ascertains the principles; ethics limits itself to building good habits thereon, and to propose the exercises that shall produce those good habits. The (Aristotelian) rational virtues also owe to dialectics the principles which seem to be their characteristics; for they chiefly deal with material things (because they moderate the passions). The other virtues also imply the application of reason to the passions and actions which are characteristic of each of them. However, prudence applies reason to them in a superior manner. Prudence deals rather with the universal, considering whether the virtues concatenate, and whether an action should be done now, or be deferred, or be superseded by another (as thought Aristotle). Now it is dialectics, or its resultant science of wisdom which, under a general and immaterial form, furnishes prudence with all the principles it needs. [Ennead I,3 (20) 6]

The magnitude of the Soul does not consist in being a corporeal mass; for every corporeal mass is small, and reduces to nothing, if it be made to undergo a diminution. As to the magnitude of the Soul, nothing can be removed from it; and if something were removed, she would not lose anything. Since, therefore, she cannot lose anything, why fear that she should be far from something? How could she be far from something since she loses nothing, since she possesses an eternal nature, and is subject to no leakage? If she were subject to some leakage, she would advance till where she could leak; but as she cannot leak at all (for there is no place where or into which she could leak), she has embraced the universe, or rather, she herself is the universe, and she is too great to be judged according to physical magnitude. We may say that she gives little to the universe; but she gives it all it can receive. Do not consider the universal Being (Essence) as being smaller, or as having a smaller mass (than our universe); otherwise, you would be led to ask yourself how that which is smaller can unite with that which is greater. Besides, one should not predicate comparative smallness of the universal Essence, nor compare, in regard to mass, that which has no mass with that which has; that would be as if somebody said that the science called medicine is smaller than the body of the doctor. Neither attribute to the universal Essence an extent greater (than that of our universe); for it is not in extension that the soul is greater than the body. What shows the veritable magnitude of the soul, is that, when the body increases, the same soul which formerly existed in a smaller mass is present in this whole mass that has become greater; now it would be ridiculous to suppose that the soul increases in the same manner as a corporeal mass. [Ennead VI,4 (22) 5]

Is the intelligible (Being) then so varied and manifold? It is indeed varied, but it is simultaneously simple; it is both one and manifold; for reason (which is the essence of the universal Soul), is both one and manifold. The universal (Being) is also one; though any difference in it (in this sense, that it contains different essences), results from its own constitution; the difference inheres in its nature, for it could not belong to non-being. The constitution of Essence is such as to be inseparable from unity; unity is present wherever essence is, and the one Essence subsists in itself. It is indeed possible that an essence which in a certain respect is separated from another essence, is, however, entirely present with it. But there are different kinds of presence; first, when sense-things are present with intelligible things, at least to those to which they can be present; second, when intelligible entities are present to each other; likewise, when the body is present to the soul; another, when a science is present to the soul; further, when a science is present to another science, and both coexist in the same intelligence; last, when a body is present to another body. [Ennead VI,4 (22) 11]

This is how this participation takes place for the parts of this universe (that is, the bodies). Being situated as it were on the confines of the intelligible world, the soul often gives the body something of herself; for, by her power (or potentiality), she is the neighbor of the body; and finding herself close to it, she enters into dealings therewith by virtue of a law of her nature; but this intercourse is of evil, and to enfranchise herself from the body is good. Why? Because if the soul be not the (property or slave) of the body in this intercourse, she, nevertheless, unites herself to it, and though she were universal, she becomes individual; for her activity no longer is exclusively confined to the intelligible world, although (she still, by nature) belong thereto. It is as if someone, who was an expert in a whole science, confined himself to a single proposition thereof; whereas a person who possesses a whole science should naturally consider its entirety, and not a mere part of it. Likewise the soul, which belonged entirely to the intelligible world, and which partially blended her particular essence with the total Essence, withdrew out of the universal Essence, and became individual essence, because the body to which she confines her activities is only a part of this universe. It is as if the fire, endowed with the ability of burning everything, was reduced to burn out some small object, although it possessed power of universal scope. Indeed, when the particular soul is separated from the body, she is no longer particular (in actualization); on the contrary, when she has separated herself from the universal Soul, not by passing from one locality to another, but by applying her activity (to a part of this universe, to a body), she becomes particular (in actualization), though she remain universal in another manner (in potentiality); for when the soul presides over no body she is truly universal, and is particular only in potentiality. [Ennead VI,4 (22) 16]

Further, treating of incorporeal things, “parts” is taken in several senses. Speaking of numbers, we may say that two is a part of ten (referring exclusively to abstract numbers). We may also say that a certain extension is a part of a circle or line. Further, a notion is said to be a part of science. [Ennead IV,3 (27) 2]

Nor should we (apply to the soul) the word “part” in the sense that some single proposition is a part of the total science. In this case the total science does not remain any less the same (when it is divided), and its division is only as it were the production and actualization of each of its component parts. Here each proposition potentially contains the total science, and (in spite of its division), the total science remains whole. [Ennead IV,3 (27) 2]

It may perhaps be objected that this might be true of nature, but that whereas the Soul-of-the-universe contains wisdom, this implies also reasoning and memory. This objection could be raised only by persons who by “wisdom” understand that which is its absence, and mistake the search for wisdom for reasonable thinking. For what can reasoning be but the quest of wisdom, the real reason, the intelligence of the real essence? He who exercises reason resembles a man who plays the lyre to exercise himself, to acquire the habit of playing it, and, in general, to a man who learns in order to know. He seeks indeed to acquire science, whose possession is the distinguishing characteristic of a sage. Wisdom consists therefore in a stable condition. This is seen even in the conduct of the reasoner; as soon as he has found what he sought, he ceases to reason, and rests in the possession of wisdom. [Ennead IV,4 (28) 12]

(4). After having spoken of nature, and having explained how generation is a sort of contemplation, let us pass to the Soul that occupies a rank superior to nature. This is what we have to say about her. By her contemplative action, by her ardent desire to learn and to discover, by the fruitfulness of her knowledge, and her resulting need to produce, the Soul, her totality having become an object of contemplation, gave birth to some other object; just as science, on fructifying, by instruction begets a lesser science in the soul of the young disciple who possesses the images of all things, but only in the state of obscure theories, of feeble speculations, which are incapable of self-sufficiency. The higher and rational part of the Soul ever dwells in the higher region of the intelligible world, and is, by this intelligible world, ever illuminated and fructified; while the lower (“natural and generative power”) participates in what the superior part has received, by immediately participating in the intelligible; for life ever proceeds from life, and its actualization extends to everything, and is present everywhere. In her procession, the universal Soul allows her superior part to remain in the intelligible world; for, if she detached herself from this superior part, she would no longer be present everywhere; she would subsist only in her lower extremities. Besides, the part of the Soul that thus proceeds out of the intelligible world is inferior to what remains within it. Therefore, if the Soul must be present and must assert her sphere of activity everywhere, and if that which occupies the superior rank differs from that which occupies the inferior; if, besides, her activity proceeds either from contemplation or action, though indeed originally from contemplation — because contemplation precedes the action which could not exist without contemplation; in this state of affairs, though one actualization would be weaker than another, yet it would ever remain a contemplation, so that the action derived from contemplation seems to be no more than a weakened contemplation; for that which is begotten must always remain consubstantial with its generating principle, though weaker, since of lower rank. All things therefore silently proceed from the Soul, because they stand in no need of either contemplation or exterior visible action. Thus the Soul contemplates, and the contemplating part of the Soul, being somehow located outside of the superior part, and being different therefrom, produces what is below it; thus it is that contemplation begets contemplation. No more than its object is contemplation limited below; that is why it extends to everything. Where is it not? Every soul contains the same object of contemplation. This object, without being circumscribed as a magnitude, does not equally inhere in all beings; consequently, it is not present in the same way to all parts of the Soul. That is why Plato says that the charioteer of the soul communicates to his horses what he has seen. The latter receive something from him only because they desire to possess what he has seen; for they have not received the entire intelligible (world). Though they act because of a desire, they act only in view of what they desire; that is, in view of contemplation, and of its object. [Ennead III,8 (30) 5]

The sages of Egypt seem to me to have shown either a consummate insight or a marvellous instinct when, in order to reveal to us their wisdom, they did not, to express words and propositions, make use of letters representing sounds and expressions, but symbolized objects by hieroglyphics, and in their mysteries symbolically designated each of them by a particular emblem. Thus each hieroglyphic sign constituted a kind of science or wisdom; and without discursive conception or analysis places the thing under the eyes in a synthetic manner. Later, this synthetic notion was reproduced by other signs which developed it expressing it discursively, declaring the causes of the constitution of things, wherever their beautiful disposition excited admiration. The wisdom of the Egyptians is best seen in this, that though they did not possess the causes of (essential) beings, (their writing) was able to express everything so as to harmonize with the causes of essential “Being.” [Ennead V,8 (31) 6]

Likewise, Intelligence, as such, contains all the individual intelligences as its parts. These, however, form a number. Consequently, the number which is in the Intelligence does not occupy the first degree. So far as the number is in Intelligence, it is equal to the quantity of the actualizations of Intelligence. Now, these actualizations are wisdom, justice, and the other virtues, science, and all the (ideas) whose possession characterizes it as veritable Intelligence. (If then science exist in the Intelligence) how does it happen that it is not there in some principle other than itself? In Intelligence the knower, the known, and science are one and the same thing; and with everything else within it. That is why every (entity) exists in the intelligible world in its highest degree. For instance, within it, Justice is no accident, though it be one in the soul, as such; for intelligible entities are in the soul (only in) potential condition (so long as she remains no more than soul); and they are actualized when the soul rises to Intelligence and dwells with it. [Ennead VI,6 (34) 15]

We shall not be surprised that the soul’s liveliest transports of love are aroused by Him, who has no form, not even an intelligible one, when we observe that the soul herself, as soon as she burns with love for Him, lays aside all forms soever, even if intelligible; for it is impossible to approach Him so long as one considers anything else. The soul must therefore put aside all evil, and even all good; in a word, everything, of whatever nature, to receive the divinity, alone with the alone. When the soul obtains this happiness, and when (the divinity) comes to her, or rather, when He manifests His presence, because the soul has detached herself from other present things, when she has embellished herself as far as possible, when she has become assimilated to Him by means known only to the initiated, she suddenly sees Him appear in her. No more interval between them, no more doubleness; the two fuse in one. It is impossible to distinguish the soul from the divinity, so much does she enjoy His presence; and it is the intimacy of this union that is here below imitated by those who love and are loved, when they consummate union. In this condition the soul no longer feels (her body); she no more feels whether she be alive, human, essence, universality, or anything else. Consideration of objects would be a degradation, and the soul then has neither the leisure nor the desire to busy herself with them. When, after having sought the divinity, she finds herself in His presence, she rushes towards Him, and contemplates Him instead of herself. What is her condition at the time? She has not the leisure to consider it; but she would not exchange it for anything whatever, not even for the whole heaven; for there is nothing superior or better; she could not rise any higher. As to other things, however elevated they be, she cannot at that time stoop to consider them. It is at this moment that the soul starts to move, and recognizes that she really possesses what she desired; she at last affirms that there is nothing better than Him. No illusion could occur there; for where could she find anything truer than truth itself? The soul then is what she affirms; (or rather), she asserts it (only), later, and then she asserts it by keeping silence. While tasting this beatitude she could not err in the assertion that she tastes it. If she assert that she tastes it, it is not that her body experiences an agreeable titillation, for she has only become again what she formerly used to be when she became happy. All the things that formerly charmed her, such as commanding others, power, wealth, beauty, science, now seem to her despicable; she could not scorn them earlier, for she had not met anything better. Now she fears nothing, so long as she is with Him, and contemplates Him. Even with pleasure would she witness the destruction of everything, for she would remain alone with Him; so great is her felicity. [Ennead VI,7 (38) 34]

The remainder is plain. As to the last point, it has already been discussed. Still it may be well to add something thereto, starting from the point reached, and proceeding by arguments. Knowledge, or, if it may be so expressed, the “touch of the Good,” is the greatest thing in the world. Plato calls it the greatest of sciences, and even so he here applies this designation not to the vision itself of the Good, but to the science of the Good that may be had before the vision. This science is attained by the use of analogies, by negations (made about the Good), by the knowledge of things that proceed from it, and last by the degrees that must be taken (or, upward steps that must be climbed to reach up to Him.) (These then are the degrees) that lead up (to the divinity): purifications, virtues that adorn the soul, elevation to the intelligible, settling in the intelligible, and then the banquet   at which nectar feeds him who becomes simultaneously spectator and spectacle, either for himself, or for others. Having become Being, Intelligence, and universal living Organism, (the initiate) no longer considers these things as being outside of him; having arrived at that condition, she approaches Him who is immediately above all the intelligible entities, and who already sheds His radiance over them. (The initiate) then leaves aside all the science that has led him till there; settled in the beautiful, he thinks, so long as he does not go beyond that (sphere of) being. But there, as it were raised by the very flood of intelligence, and carried away by the wave that swells, without knowing how, he suddenly sees. The contemplation which fills his eye with light does not reveal to him anything exterior; it is the light itself that he sees. It is not an opposition between light on one side, and the visible object on the other; nor is there on one side intelligence, and on the other the intelligible entity; there is only the (radiation) which later begets these entities, and permits them to exist within it. (The divinity) is no more than the radiation that begets intelligence, begetting without being consumed, and remaining within itself. This radiation exists, and this existence alone begets something else. If this radiation were not what it was, neither would the latter thing subsist. [Ennead VI,7 (38) 36]

Intelligence must therefore fuse with thought, and must always be conscious of itself, knowing that each of the two elements that constitute it is identical with the other, and that both form but a single one. If it were only unity, it would be self-sufficient, and would have no further need of receiving anything. The precept “know thyself” applies only to natures which, because of their multiplicity, need to give an account of themselves, to know the number and the quality of their component elements, because they either do not know them entirely, or even not at all; not knowing what power in them occupies the first rank, and constitutes their being. But if there be a Principle which is one by itself, it is too great to know itself, to think itself, to be self-conscious, because it is nothing determinate for itself. It receives nothing within itself, sufficing itself. It is therefore the Good not for itself, but for other natures; these indeed need the Good, but the Good has no need of itself; it would be ridiculous, and would fail to stand up to itself. Nor does it view itself; for, from this look something would arise, or exist for Him. All such things He left to the inferior natures, and nothing that exists in them is found in Him; thus (the Good) is not even “being.” Nor does (the Good) possess thought, since thought is united to being, and as primary and supreme thought coexisted with essence. Therefore, one can not (as says Plato), express (the divinity) by speech, nor have perception nor science of Him, since no attribute can be predicated of Him. [Ennead VI,7 (38) 41]

Very ancient philosophers have investigated the number and kinds of essences. Some said there was but one; others, that there was a limited number of them; others still, an infinite number. Besides, those who recognized but a single (essence) have advanced opinions very different, as is also the case with those who recognized a limited or unlimited number of essences. As the opinions of these philosophers have been sufficiently examined by their successors, we shall not busy ourselves therewith. We shall study the doctrine of those who, after having examined the opinions of their predecessors, decided on determinate numbers (of essences); admitting neither a single essence, because they recognized that there was a multiplicity even in the intelligibles; nor an infinite number of essences, because such an infinity could not exist, and would render all science impossible; but who, classifying the essences whose number is limited, and seeing that these classifications could not be considered elements, looked on them as “kinds.” Of these, some (the Peripatetic Aristotelians) proposed ten, while others proposed a lesser number (the Stoics taught four), or a greater number (the Pythagorean “oppositions,” for instance). As to the kinds, there is also difference of opinions: some looked upon the kinds as principle (Plotinos   himself); while others (Aristotle) held that they formed classes. [Ennead VI,1 (42) 1]

Since the Stoics speak of qualities, they must consider these as distinct from subjects; otherwise, they would not assign them to the second rank. Now, to be anything else than the subjects, qualities must be simple, and consequently, not composite; that is, they must not, in so far as they are qualities, contain any matter. In this case, the qualities must be incorporeal and active; for, according to the Stoics, matter is a passive subject. If, on the contrary, the qualities themselves be passive, the division into subjects and qualities is absurd, because it would classify separately simple and composite things, and then reunite them into one single classification. Further, it is faulty in that it locates one of the species in another (matter in the qualities), as if science were divided into two kinds, of which one would comprise grammar, and the other grammar with something additional. [Ennead VI,1 (42) 29]

But why should not the Good, beauty, virtues, science, or intelligence be considered primary genera? If by “good” we understand the First, whom we call the Good itself, of whom indeed we could not affirm anything, but whom we call by this name, because we have none better to express our meaning, He is not a genus; for He cannot be affirmed of anything else. If indeed there were things of which He could be predicated, each of them would be the Good Himself. Besides, the Good does not consist in “being,” and therefore is above it. But if by “good” we mean only the quality (of goodness), then it is evident that quality cannot be ranked with primary genera. Does this imply that Essence is not good? No; it is good, but not in the same manner as the First, who is good, not by a quality, but by Himself. [Ennead VI,2 (43) 17]

The case is similar with Intelligence. There is a kind of existence of universal Intelligence, which is located above the particular actualized intelligences, and is different from that of the particular intelligences. These are filled with universal notions: universal Intelligence furnishes to the particular intelligences the notions they possess. It is the potentiality of these intelligences all of which it contains in its universality; on their side, these, in their particularity, contain universal Intelligence just as a particular science implies universal science. The great Intelligence exists in itself, and the particular intelligences also exist in themselves; they are implied in universal Intelligence, just as this one is implied in the particular intelligences. Each one of the particular intelligences exists simultaneously in itself, and in something else (in the universal Intelligence), just as universal Intelligence exists simultaneously in itself and in all the others. In universal Intelligence, which exists in itself, all particular intelligences exist potentially, because it actually is all the intelligences, and potentially each of them separately. On the contrary, these are actualizations of the particular intelligences, and potentially universal Intelligence. Indeed, so far as they are what is predicated of them, they are actualizations of what is predicated; so far as they exist in the genus that contains them, they are this genus potentially. Genus, as such, is potentially all the species it embraces; it is none of them in actuality; but all are implied therein. So far as genus is in actualization what exists before the species, it is the actualization of the things which are not particular. As occurs in the species, these particular things achieve such actualization only by the actualization which emanates from the genus, and which, with regard to them, acts as cause. [Ennead VI,2 (43) 20]

It would seem that (physical) “being” is that which is not predicated of anything else; for whiteness and blackness may, for instance, be predicated of some white or black subject. Likewise with the idea of “doubleness”; — I mean here not the doubleness which is the opposite of one half, but the doubleness predicated of some subject, as when one says “this wood is double.” So also paternity, and science, are attributes of another subject, of which that is said. So space is that which limits, and time that which measures something else. But fire, or wood considered as such, are not attributes. Neither are Socrates  , nor composite being (composed of matter and form), nor form which is in the “being,” because it is not a modification of any other subject. Indeed, form is not an attribute of matter; it is an element of the combination. “Man” and “form of man” are one and the same thing. Matter also is an element of the combination; under this respect, it may be predicated of a subject, but this subject is identical with itself. On the contrary, whiteness, considered in itself, exists only in the subject of which it may be predicated. Consequently, the thing which exists only in the subject of which it is predicated is not (physical) “being.” “Being,” on the contrary, is that which is what it is by itself. In case it form part of some subject, then it completes the combination; whose elements exist each in itself, and which are predicated of the combination only in a condition other than that of existing in it. Considered as a part, “being” is relative to something other than itself; but considered in itself, in its nature, in what it is, it is not predicable of anything. [Ennead VI,3 (44) 4]

As to the distinction drawn between primary and secondary being, it must be admitted that some particular fire, and the universal Fire differ from each other in this, that the one is individual, and the other universal; but the difference between them does not seem to be essential. Indeed, does the genus of quality contain both White, and a particular white; or Grammar, and some particular grammatical science? How far does Grammatical science then have less reality than some particular grammatical science, and Science, than some particular science? Grammatical science is not posterior to some particular grammatical science; Grammatical science must already have existed before the existence of the grammatical science in you, since the latter is some grammatical science because it is found in you; it is besides identical with universal Grammatical science. Likewise, it is not Socrates that caused him who was not a man to become a man; it is rather the universal Man who enabled Socrates to be a man; for the individual man is man by participation in the universal Man. What then is Socrates, if not some man? In what does such a man contribute to render “being” more “being”? If the answer be that he contributes thereto by the fact that the universal Man is only a form, while a particular man is a form in matter, the result will only be that a particular man will be less of a man; for reason (that is, essence) is weaker when it is in matter. If the universal Man consist not only in form itself, but is also in matter, in what will he be inferior to the form of the man who is in matter, since it will be the reason of the man which is in matter? By its nature the universal is anterior, and consequently the form is anterior to the individual. Now that which by its nature is anterior is an absolute anterior. How then would the universal be less in being? Doubtless the individual, being better known to us, is anterior for us; but no difference in the things themselves results. Besides, if we were to admit the distinction between primary and secondary beings, the definition of “being” would no longer be one; for that which is first and that which is second are not comprised under one single definition, and do not form a single and same genus. [Ennead VI,3 (44) 9]

Are all qualities differences, or not? Whiteness, colors, qualities perceived by touch and taste, may become differences between different objects, though they themselves be species. But how do the sciences of grammar or of music constitute differences? The science of grammar renders the mind grammatical, and the science of music renders the mind musical, especially if they be untaught; and these thus become specific differences. Besides, we have to consider whether a difference be drawn from the same genus (from which the considered things are drawn), or from some other genus. If it be drawn from the same genus, it fulfils, for the things of this genus, the same function as does a quality to the quality to which it serves as difference. Such are virtue and vice; virtue is a particular habit, and vice is also a particular habit; consequently, as habits are qualities, the differences of these habits (either of virtue or vice) will be qualities. It may perhaps be objected that a habit without difference is not a quality, and that it is the difference alone which constitutes the quality. We will answer that it is (commonly) said that sweet is good, and that bitter is bad; this then implies a recognition of their difference by a habit (a manner of being), and not by a quality. [Ennead VI,3 (44) 18]

While, therefore, asserting that a simple principle does know itself, we must examine into the possibility of this. Otherwise, we would have to give up hope of real self-knowledge. But to resign this would imply many absurdities; for if it be absurd to deny that the soul possesses self-knowledge, it would be still more absurd to deny it of intelligence. How could intelligence have knowledge of other beings, if it did not possess the knowledge and science of itself? Indeed, exterior things are perceived by sensation, and even, if you insist, by discursive reason and opinion; but not by intelligence. It is indeed worth examining whether intelligence does, or does not have knowledge of such external things. Evidently, intelligible entities are known by intelligence. Does intelligence limit itself to knowledge of these entities, or does it, while knowing intelligible entities, also know itself? In this case, does it know that it knows only intelligible entities, without being able to know what itself is? While knowing that it knows what belongs to it, is it unable to know what itself, the knower, is? Or can it at the same time know what belongs to it, and also know itself? Then how does this knowledge operate, and how far does it go? This is what we must examine. [Ennead V,3 (49) 1]

Studying the origin of evils that might affect all beings in general, or some one class in particular, it is reasonable to begin by defining evil, from a consideration of its nature. That would be the best way to discover whence it arises, where it resides, to whom it may happen, and in general to decide if it be something real. Which one of our faculties then can inform us of the nature of evil? This question is not easy to solve, because there must be an analogy between the knower and the known. The Intelligence and the Soul may indeed cognize forms and fix their desires on them, because they themselves are forms; but evil, which consists in the absence of all goods, could not be described as a form. But inasmuch as there can be but one single science, to embrace even contraries, and as the evil is the contrary of the good, knowledge of the good implies that of evil. Therefore, to determine the nature of evil, we shall first have to determine that of good, for the higher things must precede the lower, as some are forms and others are not, being rather a privation of the good. Just in what sense evil is the contrary of the good must also be determined; as for instance, if the One be the first, and matter the last; or whether the One be form, and matter be its absence. Of this further. [Ennead I,8 (51) 1]