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Plotino - Tratado 10,6 (V, 1, 6) — Como o Intelecto foi engendrado pelo Uno?

Enéada V, 1, 6

domingo 19 de junho de 2022, por Cardoso de Castro

    

Capítulo 6: Como o Intelecto   foi engendrado pelo Uno?

  • 1-8. A Alma   quer compreender porque o Uno   não ficou nele mesmo e como produziu a multiplicidade.
  • 8-17. O Uno é imóvel   nele mesmo como uma divindade em um santuário.
  • 17-22. Tudo o que ele produz não está no tempo, mas na eternidade  ..
  • 22-27. Tudo aquilo que nasce do Uno provém dele sem que ele o queira e sem que ele seja movido.
  • 27-37. O Uno produz as coisas que vêm depois dele sem ser diminuído, como o sol   produz a luz  .
  • 37-44. Todas as coisas, que chegam à maturidade, engendram. O Uno, que é sempre perfeito, engendra sempre realidades eternas que, como o Intelecto, lhe são no entanto inferiores.
  • 45-53. O Intelecto engendra a Alma que lhe é inferior  . Toda a realidade engendrada tem necessidade   do princípio que a engendrou e deseja se unir a ele.
    

Míguez

6. Pero, ¿cómo ve el pensamiento y qué es en verdad lo que ve? Sobre todo, ¿cómo existe y nace del Uno para poder llegar a ver? Porque ahora el alma   tiene esto como necesario, pero, aún así, desea vivamente resolver ese problema, tan machaconamente repetido por los antiguos sabios: cómo del Uno, tal como nosotros lo entendemos, pueden venir a la existencia   una multiplicidad cualquiera, una díada o un número  , o, lo que es igual, cómo el Uno no permaneció en sí mismo   y cómo creemos poder reducir a la unidad esa multiplicidad de los seres visibles. Parece oportuno que invoquemos a Dios no con palabras sino con la intención suplicante del alma; sólo de esta manera podremos invocarle a solas.

Conviene, pues, que al contemplar el Uno que se da a sí mismo como en el interior de un santuario -el Uno que permanece inmóvil más allá de todas las cosas-, contemplemos también esas imágenes estables que se vuelven hacia afuera, y mejor aún la imagen que primero apareció y que se hizo manifiesta del modo siguiente: para todo lo que se mueve conviene que haya   un término hacia el cual se mueva; más, como nada semejante cabe decir del Uno, puesto que no podemos afirmar que se mueve, diremos, entonces, que, si alguna cosa proviene de El, habrá de venir a la existencia si El está vuelto desde siempre hacia sí mismo. (La generación en el tiempo no deberá constituir para nosotros una dificultad cuando nos referimos a los seres eternos; porque les atribuimos de palabra la generación para concederles de algún modo la relación causal y el orden). De hecho, sin embargo, hemos de afirmar que lo que proviene del Uno no es debido al movimiento de éste. Ya que si algo se originase por su movimiento, este término así engendrado sería el tercero, después del movimiento, y no ya el segundo. Conviene, por tanto, que, si ha de existir un segundo término después de él, se dé realmente sin que el Uno se mueva, sin que se incline o lo desee, sin que, en general, tenga que moverse de algún modo. ¿Cómo, entonces? Pues, ¿qué podremos imaginar alrededor del Uno, si éste permanece inmóvil? Imaginemos una viva luz proveniente de El -de El que permanece inmóvil-, cual la luz resplandeciente que rodea al sol y nace de él, aunque el sol mismo permanezca siempre inmóvil. Por lo demás, todos los seres que existen producen necesariamente alrededor de ellos, como saliendo de su propia esencia, una realidad que mira hacia afuera y depende de su poder actual. Esta realidad es como una imagen de los seres de que proviene. Tal ocurre, por ejemplo, con el fuego, que hace nacer de sí mismo el calor, o también con la nieve, que no retiene en su interior todo su frío. Y mayor prueba nos dan todavía los objetos olorosos, los cuales, en tanto que existen, producen alrededor de ellos una verdadera emanación  , de la que disfrutan los seres que están próximos. A mayor abundamiento, todos los seres que han llegado al estado   de perfección producen necesariamente algo; con más razón, pues, producirá siempre el ser que ya es eternamente perfecto, el cual producirá de suyo un ser eterno, pero de menor importancia que él. ¿Qué convendrá decir, entonces, del ser que es más perfecto que ninguno? Sin duda, que de él no puede provenir otra cosa que lo que hay de más grande después de él. Pero lo que hay de más grande después de él es, precisamente, la Inteligencia, que constituye el segundo término. Porque, efectivamente, la Inteligencia ve el Uno y de ninguna otra cosa tiene necesidad. El Uno, sin embargo, no tiene necesidad de ella. Lo que nace, pues, del término superior a la Inteligencia es la Inteligencia misma, la cual es superior a todas las cosas porque todas las demás cosas vienen después de ella. Así, el alma es la palabra y el acto de la Inteligencia, lo mismo que ésta es la palabra y el acto del Uno. Pero la palabra del alma es oscura, porque, como tal imagen de la Inteligencia, debe mirar hacia ella, lo mismo que la Inteligencia ha de mirar hacia el Uno para conservarse como tal Inteligencia. Y lo ve, ciertamente, sin estar separada de El, porque nada hay que se encuentre entre ambos, como nada hay tampoco entre el alma y la Inteligencia. Todo ser que ha sido engendrado desea y ama al ser que lo engendró, sobre todo cuando sólo existen realmente estos dos seres. Lo cual quiere decir que cuando el ser productor de algo es el ser mejor que hay, el ser que ha sido engendrado convivirá necesariamente con él, sin que ya les separe otra cosa que su misma alteridad.

Bouillet

[6] Comment l’Intelligence voit-elle et qui voit-elle? Comment est-elle sortie et née de l’Un, de manière qu’elle puisse le voir? Car maintenant l’âme comprend qu’il est nécessaire que ces principes existent. Elle désire résoudre ce problème souvent posé chez les anciens sages : Si l’Un a la nature que nous lui avons assignée, comment tout tient-il de lui sa substance (ὑπόστασιν ἔσχεν) (26), la multitude, la dyade, le nombre? Pourquoi n’est-il pas resté en lui-même, et a-t-il laissé ainsi découler de lui la multiplicité qu’on voit dans les êtres et que nous voulons ramener à lui? Nous allons le dire. Invoquons d’abord Dieu   même, non en prononçant des paroles, mais en élevant notre âme jusqu’à lui par la prière; or, la seule manière de le prier, c’est de nous avancer solitairement vers l’Un, qui est solitaire. Pour contempler l’Un, il faut se recueillir dans son l’or   intérieur, comme dans un temple, et y demeurer tranquille, en extase (ἐπέκεινα ἁπάντων), puis considérer les statues qui sont pour ainsi dire placées dehors [l’Âme et l’Intelligence], et avant tout la statue qui brille au premier rang [l’Un], en la contemplant de la manière que sa nature exige (27).

Il est nécessaire que tout être qui est mû ait un but vers lequel il soit mû ; nous devons donc admettre que ce qui n’a pas de but vers lequel il soit mû reste immobile, et que ce qui naît de ce principe doit en naître sans que jamais ce principe cesse d’être tourné vers lui-même. Éloignons de notre esprit   l’idée d’une génération opérée dans le temps : il s’agit ici de choses éternelles ; en leur appliquant le terme de génération, nous voulons seulement établir entre elles un rapport d’ordre et de causalité (28). Ce qui est engendré par l’Un doit être engendré par lui sans que l’Un soit mû ; s’il était mû, ce qui est engendré par lui tiendrait, par suite de ce mouvement, le troisième rang au lieu du second [serait l’Âme au lieu d’être l’Intelligence]. Donc, puisque l’Un est immobile, c’est sans consentement, sans volonté, sans aucune espèce de mouvement, qu’il produit l’hypostase qui tient le second rang (29). Comment donc faut-il concevoir la génération de l’Intelligence par cette cause immobile? C’est le rayonnement d’une lumière qui s’en échappe sans troubler sa quiétude, semblable à la splendeur qui émane perpétuellement du soleil sans qu’il sorte de son repos, et qui l’environne sans le quitter. Ainsi toutes les choses, tant qu’elles persévèrent dans l’être, tirent nécessairement de leur propre essence et produisent au dehors une certaine nature qui dépend de leur puissance et qui est l’image de l’archétype dont elle provient (30). Ainsi le feu répand la chaleur hors de lui ; la neige répand le froid. Les parfums donnent un exemple frappant de ce fait: tant qu’ils durent, ils émettent des exhalaisons auxquelles participe tout ce qui les entoure. Tout ce qui est arrivé à son point de perfection engendre quelque chose. Ce qui est éternellement parfait engendre éternellement, et ce qu’il engendre est éternel, mais inférieur au principe générateur. Que faut-il donc penser de Celui qui est souverainement parfait? N’engendre-t-il pas (31)? Tout au contraire, il engendre ce qu’il y a de plus grand après lui. Or, ce qu’il y a de plus parfait après lui, c’est le principe qui lient le second rang, l’Intelligence. L’Intelligence contemple l’Un, et n’a besoin que de lui ; mais l’Un n’a pas besoin de l’Intelligence. Ce qui est engendré par le Principe supérieur à l’Intelligence ne peut être que l’Intelligence (32) : car elle est ce qu’il y a de meilleur après l’Un, puisqu’elle est supérieure à tous les autres êtres. L’Âme est en effet le verbe et l’acte de l’Intelligence, comme l’Intelligence est le verbe et l’acte de l’Un. Mais l’Âme est un verbe obscur. Étant l’image de l’Intelligence, elle doit contempler l’Intelligence, comme celle-ci doit, pour subsister, contempler l’Un. Si l’Intelligence contemple l’Un, ce n’est pas qu’elle s’en trouve séparée, c’est seulement parce qu’elle est après lui. Il n’y a nul intermédiaire entre l’Un et l’Intelligence, non plus qu’entre l’Intelligence et l’Âme. Tout être engendré désire s’unir au principe qui l’engendre, et il l’aime, surtout quand Celui qui engendre et Celui qui est engendré sont seuls. Or, quand Celui qui engendre est souverainement parfait, Celui qui est engendré doit lui être si étroitement uni qu’il n’en soit séparé que sous ce rapport qu’il en est distinct (33).

Guthrie

MYSTERY OR DERIVATION OF SECOND FROM FIRST.

6. How does Intelligence see, and what does it see? How did the Second issue from the First, how was it born from the First, so as that the Second might see the First? For the soul now understands that these principles must necessarily exist. She seeks to solve the problem often mooted by ancient philosophers. «If the nature of the One be such as we have outlined, how does everything derive its hypostatic substance (or, form of existence), manifoldness, duality, and number from the First ? Why did the First not remain within Himself, why did He allow the leakage of mani-foldness seen in all beings, and which we are seeking to trace back to the First?» We shall tell it. But we must, to begin with, invoke the Divinity, not by the utterance of words, but by raising our souls to Him in prayer. Now the only way to pray is (for a person), when alone, to advance towards the One, who is entirely alone. To contemplate Unity, we must retire to our inner sanctuary, and there remain tranquil above all things (in ecstasy); then we must observe the statues which as it were are situated outside of (soul and intelligence), and in front of everything, the statue that shines in the front rank (Unity), contemplating it in a manner suitable to its nature (in the mysteries).

GENERATION IS THE RADIATION OF AN IMAGE.

All that is moved must have a direction towards which it is moved; we must therefore conclude that that which has no direction towards which it is moved must be at a stand-still, and that anything born of this principle must be born without causing this principle to cease being turned towards itself. We must, however, remove from our mind   the idea   of a generation operated within time, for we are here treating of eternal things. When we apply to them the conception of generation, we mean only a relation of causality and effect. What is begotten by the One must be begotten by Him without any motion on the part of the One; if He were moved, that which was begotten from Him would, because of this movement, be ranked third, instead of second. Therefore, since the One is immovable, He produces the hypostatic (form of existence) which is ranked second, without volition, consent, or any kind of movement. What conception are we then to form of this generation of Intelligence by this immovable Cause? It is a radiation of light which escapes without disturbing its quietness, like the splendor which emanates perpetually from the sun  , without affecting its quietness, which surrounds it without leaving it. Thus all things, in so far as they remain within existence, necessarily draw from their own essence («being») and produce externally a certain nature that depends on their power, and that is the image of the archetype from which it is derived. Thus does fire radiate heat; thus snow spreads cold. Perfumes also furnish a striking example of this process; so long as they last, they emit exhalations in which everything that surrounds them participates. Everything that has arrived to its point of perfection begets something. That which is eternally perfect begets eternally; and that which it begets is eternal though -inferior   to the generating principle. What then should we think of Him who is supremely perfect? Does He not beget? On the contrary, He begets that which, after Him, is the greatest. Now that which, after Him, is the most perfect, is the second rank principle, Intelligence. Intelligence contemplates Unity, and needs none but Him; but the Unity has no need of Intelligence. That which is begotten by the Principle superior to Intelligence can be nothing if not Intelligence; for it is the best after the One, since it is superior to all other beings. The Soul, indeed, is the word and actualization of Intelligence, just as Intelligence is word and actualization of the One. But the Soul is an obscure word. Being an image of Intelligence, she must contemplate Intelligence, just as the latter, to subsist, must contemplate the One. Intelligence contemplates the One, not because of any separation therefrom, but only because it is after the One. There is no intermediary between the One and Intelligence, any more than between Intelligence and the Soul. Every begotten being desires to unite with the principle that begets it, and loves it, especially when the begetter and the begotten are alone. Now when the begetter is supremely perfect, the begotten must be so intimately united to Him as to be separated from Him only in that it is distinct from Him.

Taylor

VI. How, therefore, does intelligence see; what does it see; and, in short, how does it subsist ; and how is it generated from the one, so that it may see ? For now indeed the soul perceives the necessity of the existence of these things. It desires, however, to understand this which is so much spoken of by the wise men of antiquity, viz. how from the one being such as we have said it is, each thing has its subsistence, whether it be multitude, or the duad, or number; and why the one did not abide   in itself, but so great a multitude flowed from it, as is seen to have an existence, and which we think should be referred to the one. We must say, therefore, as follows, invoicing God himself, not with external speech, but with the soul itself, extending ourselves in prayer to him, since we shall then be able to pray to him properly, when we approach by ourselves alone to the alone. It is necessary, therefore, that the beholder of him, being in himself as if in the interior part of a temple, and quietly abiding in an eminence beyond all things, should survey the statues as it were which are established outwardly, or rather that statue which first shines forth to the view, and after the following manner behold that which is naturally adapted to be beheld. With respect to every thing that is moved,1 it is necessary there should be something to which it is moved. For if there is nothing of this kind, we should not admit that it is moved. But if any thing is generated posterior   to that to which the moveable nature tends, it is necessary that it should always be generated in consequence of that prior cause being converted to itself. Let, however, the generation which is in time be now removed from us who are discoursing about eternal beings. And if in the course of the discussion we attribute generation to things which exist eternally, let it be considered as indicative of cause and order. Hence, that which is from thence generated, must be said to be generated, the cause not being moved. For if something was generated in consequence of that cause being moved, the thing generated after the motion would be the third, and not the second from the cause. It is necessary, therefore, the cause being immoveable, that if any thing secondary subsists after it, this second nature should be produced, without the cause either verging to it, or consulting, or in short being moved. How, therefore, and what is it necessary to conceive about that abiding cause ? We must conceive a surrounding splendour, proceeding indeed from this cause, but from it in a permanent state, like a light from the sun shining, and as it were running round it, and being generated from it, the cause itself always abiding in the same immoveable condition. All beings, likewise, as long as they remain, necessarily produce from their own essence, about themselves, and externally from the power which is present with them, a nature whose hypostasis   is suspended from them, and which is as it were an image of the archetype from which it proceeded. Thus fire emits from itself indeed heat, and snow not only retains cold within itself [but imparts it to other things]. This, however, such things as are fragrant especially testify. For as long as they exist, something proceeds from them, of which whatever is near them partakes. All such things, likewise, as are now perfect generate; but that which is always perfect, always generates, and that which it produces is perpetual. It also generates something less than itself. What, therefore, is it requisite to say of that which is most perfect? Shall we say that nothing proceeds from it; or rather that the greatest things posterior to it are its progeny ? But the greatest thing posterior to it, and the second, is intellect. For intellect sees it, and is in want of it alone. But this most perfect nature is not in want of intellect. It is also necessary that the thing generated from that which is better than intellect, should be intellect.

And intellect is superior to all things after the first, because other things are posterior to it. Thus, for instance, soul is the reason of intellect, and a certain energy of it, just as intellect of that first God [who is beyond intellect]. But the reason of soul is indeed obscure. For as it is the image of intellect, on this account it is necessary that it should loot to intellect. After the same manner also, it is necessary that intellect should look to the highest God, in order that it may be intellect. It sees him, however, not separated from him, but because it is after him, and there is nothing between; as neither is there any thing between soul and intellect. But every thing desires its generator. This also it loves, and especially when that which is generated and the generator are alone. When, however, that which generates is the most excellent of things, the thing begotten is necessarily present with it in such a manner, as to be separated by otherness alone.

MacKenna

6. But how and what does the Intellectual-Principle see and, especially, how has it sprung from that which is to become the object of its vision?

The mind demands the existence of these Beings, but it is still in trouble over the problem endlessly debated by the most ancient philosophers: from such a unity as we have declared The One to be, how does anything at all come into substantial existence, any multiplicity, dyad  , or number? Why has the Primal not remained self-gathered so that there be none of this profusion of the manifold which we observe in existence and yet are compelled to trace to that absolute unity?

In venturing an answer, we first invoke God Himself, not in loud word but in that way of prayer which is always within our power, leaning in soul towards Him by aspiration, alone towards the alone. But if we seek the vision of that great Being within the Inner Sanctuary - self-gathered, tranquilly remote above all else - we begin by considering the images stationed at the outer precincts, or, more exactly to the moment, the first image that appears. How the Divine Mind comes into being must be explained:

Everything moving has necessarily an object towards which it advances; but since the Supreme can have no such object, we may not ascribe motion to it: anything that comes into being after it can be produced only as a consequence of its unfailing self-intention; and, of course, we dare not talk of generation in time, dealing as we are with eternal Beings: where we speak of origin in such reference, it is in the sense  , merely, of cause and subordination: origin from the Supreme must not be taken to imply any movement in it: that would make the Being resulting from the movement not a second principle but a third: the Movement would be the second hypostasis.

Given this immobility in the Supreme, it can neither have yielded assent nor uttered decree nor stirred in any way towards the existence of a secondary.

What happened then? What are we to conceive as rising in the neighbourhood of that immobility?

It must be a circumradiation - produced from the Supreme but from the Supreme unaltering - and may be compared to the brilliant light encircling the sun and ceaselessly generated from that unchanging substance.

All existences, as long as they retain their character, produce - about themselves, from their essence, in virtue of the power which must be in them - some necessary, outward-facing hypostasis continuously attached to them and representing in image the engendering archetypes: thus fire gives out its heat; snow is cold not merely to itself; fragrant substances are a notable instance; for, as long as they last, something is diffused from them and perceived wherever they are present.

Again, all that is fully achieved engenders: therefore the eternally achieved engenders eternally an eternal being. At the same time, the offspring is always minor: what then are we to think of the All-Perfect but that it can produce nothing less than the very greatest that is later than itself. The greatest, later than the divine unity, must be the Divine Mind, and it must be the second of all existence, for it is that which sees The One on which alone it leans while the First has no need whatever of it. The offspring of the prior to Divine Mind can be no other than that Mind itself and thus is the loftiest being in the universe, all else following upon it - the soul, for example, being an utterance and act of the Intellectual-Principle as that is an utterance and act of The One. But in soul the utterance is obscured, for soul is an image and must look to its own original: that Principle, on the contrary, looks to the First without mediation - thus becoming what it is - and has that vision not as from a distance but as the immediate next with nothing intervening, close to the One as Soul to it.

The offspring must seek and love the begetter; and especially so when begetter and begotten are alone in their sphere; when, in addition, the begetter is the highest good, the offspring [inevitably seeking its Good] is attached by a bond of sheer necessity, separated only in being distinct.