Guthrie-Plotinus: live

The proof that bodies are activated only by incorporeal faculties may be proved as follows: Quantity and quality are two different things. Every body has a quantity, but not always a quality, as in the case of matter, (according to the Stoic definition, that it was a body without quality, but possessing magnitude). Granting this, (you Stoic) will also be forced to admit that as quality is something different from quantity, it must consequently be different from the body. Since then every body has a quantity, how could quality, which is no quantity, be a body? Besides, as we said above, every body and mass is altered by division; nevertheless, when a body is cut into pieces, every part preserves the entire quality without undergoing alteration. For instance, every molecule of honey, possesses the quality of sweetness as much as all the molecules taken together; consequently that sweetness cannot be corporeal; and other qualities must be in a similar case. Moreover, if the active powers were corporeal, they would have to have a material mass proportional to their strength or weakness. Now there are great masses that have little force, and small ones that have great force; demonstrating that power does not depend on extension, and should be attributed to some (substance) without extension. Finally, you may say that matter is identical with body, and produces different beings only by receiving different qualities (the Stoics considering that even the divinity was no more than modified matter, their two principles being matter and quality; the latter, however, was also considered as body). How do you (Stoics) not see that qualities thus added to matter are reasons, that are primary and immaterial? Do not object that when the spirit (breath) and blood abandon animals, they cease to live; for if these things are necessary to life, there are for our life many other necessities, even during the presence of the soul (as thought Nemesius). Besides, neither spirit nor blood are distributed to every part of the body. [Ennead IV,7 (2) 8]

(14). It is absolutely necessary to postulate the existence of a nature different from bodies, by itself fully possessing genuine existence, which can neither be born nor perish. Otherwise, all other things would hopelessly disappear, as a result of the destruction of the existence which preserves both the individuals and the universe, as their beauty and salvation. The soul, indeed, is the principle of movement (as Plato thought, in the Phaedrus  ); it is the soul that imparts movement to everything else; the soul moves herself. She imparts life to the body she animates; but alone she possesses life, without ever being subject to losing it, because she possesses it by herself. All beings, indeed, live only by a borrowed life; otherwise, we would have to proceed from cause to cause unto infinity. There must, therefore, exist a nature that is primarily alive, necessarily incorruptible and immortal because it is the principle of life for everything else. It is thereon that must be founded all that is divine and blessed, that lives and exists by itself, that lives and exists supremely, which is immutable in its essence, and which can neither be born nor perish. How indeed could existence be born or perish? If the name of “existence” really suited it, it must exist forever, just as whiteness is not alternately black and white. If whiteness were existence itself, it would, with its “being” (or nature) (which is, to be whiteness), possess an eternal existence; but, in reality, it is no more than whiteness. Therefore, the principle that possesses existence in itself and in a supreme degree will always exist. Now this primary and eternal existence can not be anything dead like a stone, or a piece of wood. It must live, and live with a pure life, as long as it exists within itself. If something of it mingles with what is inferior, this part meets obstacles in its aspiration to the good; but it does not lose its nature, and resumes its former condition on returning to a suitable condition (as thought Plato, in his Phaedo  ). [Ennead IV,7 (2) 9]

(17). (The Stoics), indeed, claim that every soul is perishable. In this case, everything should long since have been destroyed. Others might say that our soul were mortal, while the universal Soul were immortal. On them, however, is the burden of proof of a difference between the individual and universal souls. Both of them, indeed, are a principle of movement; both live by themselves; both grasp the same object by the same faculty, either by thinking the things contained in heaven, or by considering the nature (“being”) of each being, ascending unto the first principle. Since our soul thinks absolute essences either by the notions she finds within herself, or by reminiscence, she evidently is prior to the body. Possessing knowledge of eternal entities, she herself must be eternal. All that dissolves, existing only by its compositeness, can naturally dissolve in the same manner that it became composite. But the soul is a single, simple actualization, whose essence is life; not in this manner therefore can the soul perish. Neither could the soul perish by division into a number of parts; for, as we have shown, the soul is neither a mass nor a quantity. As little could the soul perish by alteration; for when alteration destroys anything, it may remove its form, but leaves its matter; alteration, therefore, is a characteristic of something composite. Consequently as the soul cannot perish in any of these ways, she is imperishable. [Ennead IV,7 (2) 12]

(20). This, then, is our answer to those who seek a philosophical demonstration. Those who are satisfied with the testimony of faith and sense, may be referred to those extracts from history which furnish numerous proofs thereof. We may also refer to the oracles given by the divinities who order an appeasement of the souls who were victims of some injustice, and to honor the dead, and to the rites observed by all towards those who live no more; which presupposes that their souls are still conscious beyond. Even after leaving their bodies, many souls who lived on the earth have continued to grant benefits to men. By revelation of the future; and rendering other services, they themselves prove that the other souls cannot have perished. [Ennead IV,7 (2) 15]

On waking from the slumber of the body to return to myself, and on turning my attention from exterior things so as to concentrate it on myself, I often observe an alluring beauty, and I become conscious of an innate nobility. Then I live out a higher life, and I experience atonement with the divinity. Fortifying myself within it, I arrive at that actualization which raises me above the intelligible. But if, after this sojourn with the divinity, I descend once more from Intelligence to the exercise of my reasoning powers, I am wont to ask myself how I ever could actually again descend, and how my soul ever could have entered into a body, since, although she actually abides in the body, she still possesses within herself all the perfection I discover in her. [Ennead IV,8 (6) 1]

There are individual souls which, in their conversion towards the principle from which they proceed, aspire to the intelligible world, and which also exercise their power on inferior things, just as light, which does not disdain to throw its rays down to us though remaining suspended to the sun on high. These souls must remain sheltered from all suffering so long as in the intelligible world they remain together with the universal Soul. They must besides, in heaven, share with it the administration of the world; like kings who, being colleagues of the great King of the universe, share the government with Him, without themselves descending from their thrones, without ceasing to occupy a place as elevated as He. But when they pass from this state in which they live with the universal Soul to a particular and independent existence, when they seem weary of dwelling with another, then each of them returns to what belongs to her individually. Now when a soul has done that for a long while, when she withdraws from the universal Soul, and distinguishes herself therefrom, when she ceases to keep her glances directed towards the intelligible world; then, isolating herself in her individual existence, she weakens, and finds herself overwhelmed with a crowd of cares, because she directs her glance at something individual. Having therefore separated herself from the universal Soul as well as from the other souls that remain united thereto, and having attached herself to an individual body, and concentrating herself exclusively on this object, which is subjected to the destructive action of all other beings, she ceases to govern the whole to administer more carefully a part, the care of which forces her to busy herself, and mingle with external things, to be not only present in the body, but also to interpenetrate it. [Ennead IV,8 (6) 4]

Souls therefore are necessarily amphibians; since they alternately live in the intelligible world, and in the sense-world; staying longer in the intelligible world when they can remain united to supreme Intelligence more permanently, or staying longer or preponderatingly here below when nature or destiny imposes on them a contrary fate. That is the secret meaning of Plato’s words to the effect that the divinity divides the seeds of the souls formed by a second mixture in the cup, and that He separates them into (two) parts. He also adds that they must necessarily fall into generation after having been divided into a definite number. Plato’s statement that the divinity sowed the souls, as well as the divinity’s address to the other deities, must be taken figuratively. For, in reference to the things contained in the universe, this implies that they are begotten or produced; for successive enumeration and description implies an eternal begetting, and that those objects exist eternally in their present state. [Ennead IV,8 (6) 4]

As there are two kinds of being (or, existence), one of sensation, and the other intelligible, it is preferable for the soul to live in the intelligible world; nevertheless, as a result of her nature, it is necessary for her also to participate in sense-affairs. Since she occupies only an intermediate rank, she must not feel wronged at not being the best of beings. Though on one hand her condition be divine, on the other she is located on the limits of the intelligible world, because of her affinity for sense-nature. She causes this nature to participate in her powers, and she even receives something therefrom, when, instead of managing the body without compromising her own security, she permits herself to be carried away by her own inclination to penetrate profoundly within it, ceasing her complete union with the universal Soul. Besides, the soul can rise above the body after having learned to feel how happy one is to dwell on high, by the experience of things seen and suffered here below, and after having appreciated the true Good by the comparison of contraries. Indeed the knowledge of the good becomes clearer by the experience of evil, especially among souls which are not strong enough to know evil before having experienced it. [Ennead IV,8 (6) 7]

Will the Good not be self-conscious? It is claimed by some that the Good would be good only if it possessed self-consciousness. But if it be Goodness, it is goodness before having self-consciousness. If the Good be good only because it has self-consciousness, it was not good before having self-consciousness; but, on the other hand, if there be no goodness, no possible consciousness can therefore exist. (Likewise, someone may ask) does not the First live? He cannot be said to live, because He Himself gives life. [Ennead III,9 (13) 9]

What then is our guardian? It is one of the powers of our soul. What is our divinity? It is also one of the powers of our soul. (Is it the power which acts principally in us as some people think?) For the power which acts in us seems to be that which leads us, since it is the principle which dominates in us. Is that the guardian to which we have been allotted during the course of our life? No: our guardian is the power immediately superior to the one that we exercise, for it presides over our life without itself being active. The power which is active in us is inferior to the one that presides over our life, and it is the one which essentially constitutes us. If then we live on the plane of the sense-life, our guardian is reason; if we live on the rational plane, our guardian will be the principal superior to reason (namely, intelligence); it will preside over our life, but it itself does not act, leaving that to the inferior power. Plato truly said that “we choose our guardian”; for, by the kind of life that we prefer, we choose the guardian that presides over our life. Why then does He direct us? He directs us during the course of our mortal life because he is given to us to help us to accomplish our (destiny); but he can no longer direct us when our destiny is accomplished, because the power over the exercise of which he presided allows another power to act in his place (which however is dead, since the life in which it acted is terminated). This other power wishes to act in its turn, and, after having established its preponderance, it exercises itself during the course of a new life, itself having another guardian. If then we should chance to degrade ourselves by letting an inferior power prevail in us, we are punished for it. Indeed, the evil man degenerates because the power which he has developed in his life makes him descend to the existence of the brute, by assimilating him to it by his morals. If we could follow the guardian who is superior to him, he himself would become superior by sharing his life. He would then take as guide a part of himself superior to the one that governs him, then another part, still more elevated until he had arrived at the highest. Indeed, the soul is several things, or rather, the soul is all things; she is things both inferior and superior; she contains all the degrees of life. Each of us, in a certain degree, is the intelligible world; by our inferior part we are related to the sense-world, and by our superior part, to the intelligible world; we remain there on high by what constitutes our intelligible essence; we are attached here below by the powers which occupy the lowest rank in the soul. Thus we cause an emanation, or rather an actualization which implies no loss to the intelligible, to pass from the intelligible into the sense-world. [Ennead III,4 (15) 3]

A man who has achieved such a state no longer commits such faults; for he has become corrected. But his desired goal is not to cease failing, but to be divine. In case he still allows within himself the occurrence of some of the above-mentioned unreflecting impulses, he will be simultaneously divinity and guardian, a double being; or rather, he will contain a principle of another nature (Intelligence), whose virtue will likewise differ from his. If, however, he be not troubled by any of those motions, he will be wholly divine; he will be one of those divinities “who (as Plato said) form the attending escort of the First.” It is a divinity of such a nature that has come down from above to dwell in us. To become again what one was originally, is to live in this superior world. He who has achieved that height dwells with pure Intelligence, and assimilates himself thereto as far as possible. Consequently, he feels none of those emotions, nor does he any more commit any actions, which would be disapproved of by the superior principle who henceforth is his only master. [Ennead I,2 (19) 6]

(Following both Hesiod and the Gnostics, Plotinos   relates that) a woman was formed by Prometheus, and adorned by the other divinities. This piece of clay, after having been kneaded with water, was endowed with a human voice, and received a form similar to the deities. Then Venus, the Graces and the other deities each gave her a gift. That is why this woman was called Pandora, because (as her name implies, in Greek) she had received gifts, which had been given by all the divinities. All, in fact, made some present to this piece of clay already fashioned by some kind of providence (“Prometheia,” or “Prometheus”). When Epimetheus rejects the gift of Prometheus, it only indicates that it is better to live in the intelligible world. The creator of Pandora, however, is bound because he seems attached to his work. But this bond is entirely exterior, and it is broken by Hercules, because the latter possesses a liberating power. Whatever other interpretation the myth of Pandora may receive, it must still signify gifts received by the world, and its import must agree with our teaching. [Ennead IV,3 (27) 14]

On descending from the intelligible world, souls first come into heaven, and they there take a body by means of which they pass even into terrestrial bodies, according as they more or less advance (outside of the intelligible world). There are some who issue from heaven into the bodies of an inferior nature; there are some also who pass from one body into another. The latter no longer have the power to reascend into the intelligible world because they have forgotten; they are weighted down by the burden they carry along with themselves. Now souls differ either by the bodies to which they are united, or by their different destinies, or by their kind of life, or by their primitive nature. Thus differing from each other in all these relations, or in only some, the souls here below either succumb to fate, or are alternately subjected to it, and liberated; or, while supporting what is necessary, preserve the liberty of devoting themselves to actions that are characteristic of them, and live according to some other law, following the order that rules the whole universe. This order embraces all the (“seminal) reasons,” and all the causes, the movements of the souls, and the divine laws. It agrees with these laws, it borrows from them its principles, and relates thereto all things that are its consequences. It preserves in an imperishable condition all the beings which are able to preserve themselves conformably to the constitution of the intelligible world. It leads the other beings whither their nature calls them, so that whithersoever they may descend, there is a cause which assigns to them some particular position or condition. [Ennead IV,3 (27) 15]

When Plato says that the soul is indivisible, he speaks absolutely. When he insists that she is divisible, it is always relatively (to the body). He does indeed say that she becomes divisible in the bodies, but not that she has become such. Let us now examine how, by her nature, the body needs the soul to live, and what necessity there is for the soul to be present in the entire body. [Ennead IV,3 (27) 19]

What about (the memory) of friends, of parents, of a wife, of the fatherland, and of all that a virtuous man may properly remember? In the image of the soul (the irrational soul) these memories will be accompanied by a passive affection; but in the man (the rational soul) they will not be so accompanied. The affections exist since the beginning in the inferior soul; in the superior soul, as a result of her dealings with the other, there are also some affections, but only proper affections. The inferior soul may well seek to remember the actions of the superior soul, especially when she herself has been properly cultivated; for she can become better from her very principle up, and through the education she receives from the other. The higher soul must willingly forget what comes to her from the inferior soul. When she is good, she can, besides, by her power contain the subordinate soul. The more she desires to approach the intelligible world, the more she must forget the things from here below, unless the whole life she has led here below be such that she has entrusted to her memory none but praiseworthy things. Even in our own world, indeed, it is a fine thing to release oneself from human preoccupations. It would therefore be still finer to forget them all. In this sense we might well say that the virtuous soul should be forgetful. She thus escapes manifoldness, reduces manifoldness to unity, and abandons the indeterminate. She therefore ceases to live with manifoldness, lightens her burdens, and lives for herself. Indeed, while remaining here below, she desires to live in the intelligible world, and neglects all that is foreign to her nature. She therefore retains but few earthly things when she has arrived to the intelligible world; she has more of them when she inhabits the heavens. Hercules (in heaven) may well vaunt his valor; but even this valor seems to him trifling when he has arrived at a region still holier than heaven, when he dwells in the intelligible world, when he has risen over Hercules himself by the force manifested in those struggles which are characteristic of veritable sages. [Ennead IV,3 (27) 31]

Will they not even remember that they performed their revolution yesterday, or the year before, that they lived yesterday, and since have lived a long while? They still live continuously; now, what remains the same, is one. To try to distinguish yesterday and last year in the movement of the stars, is to do like a man who would divide into several parts the movement which forms one step, who would wish to reduce unity to multiplicity. Indeed, the movement of the stars is one, although it is by us subjected to a measure, as if it were multiple; so we count the days different one from the other because the nights separate them from each other. But since there is but one single day in the heavens, how could one count several? How could there be a “last year”? [Ennead IV,4 (28) 7]

Since the influence exteriorly exercised by the heavens on us, on animals, and on human affairs generally has been excluded from physical causes (of astrology) and from voluntary decisions of divinities, it remains for us to find some cause to which it may reasonably be attributed. First, we will have to admit that this universe is a single living being, which contains within its own organism all living beings; and that it contains a single Soul, which is communicated to all its parts; namely, to all beings that form part of the universe. Now every being that is contained in the sense-world is a part of the universe. First, and unrestrictedly, it is a part of the universe by its body. Then, it is again part of the universe by its soul, but only so far as it participates (in the natural and vegetative power) of the universal Soul. The beings which only participate in (the natural and vegetative power) of the universal Soul are completely parts of the universe. Those who participate in another soul (the superior power of the universal Soul), are not completely parts of the universe (because they are independent by their rational souls); but they experience passions by the actions of the other beings, as far as they have something of the universe (so far as by their irrational souls, they participate in the natural and vegetative power of the universe), and in the proportion in which they possess some part of the universe. This universe is therefore a single living being that is self-sympathetic. The parts that seem distant are not any the less near, as, in each animal, the horns, nails, fingers, the organs at distance from each other, feel, in spite of the interval which separates them, the affection experienced by any other one of them. In fact, as soon as the parts are similar, even when they are separated by an interval instead of being placed by each others’ side, they sympathize by virtue of this their similarity, and the action of the distant one is felt by all the others. Now in this universe which is a single living being, and which forms a single organism, there is nothing distant enough in place not to be near because of the nature of this being whose unity makes it self-sympathetic. When the suffering being resembles the acting one, it experiences a passion conformable to its nature; when on the contrary it differs, it experiences a passion that is foreign to its nature, and painful. It is therefore not surprising that though the universe be single, one of its parts can exert on another a harmful influence, since it often happens to ourselves that one of our parts wounds another by its action; as for instance, that the bile, setting anger in motion, should crush and tear some other part of the body. Now something analogous to this bile which excites anger, and to other parts that form the human body, is discovered in the universe. Even in plants there are certain things which form obstacles to others, and even destroy them. Now the world forms not only a single animal, but also a plurality of animals; each of them, as far as it has a share in the singleness of the universe, is preserved thereby; but, in so far as this animal enters into the multiplicity of some other animal, he can wound it, or be wounded by it, make use of it, or feed on it, because it differs from itself as much as it resembles itself; because the natural desire of self-preservation leads us to appropriate what is suitable to itself, and in its own interest to destroy what is contrary thereto. Finally, each being, fulfilling its part in the universe, is useful to those that can profit by its action, and wounds or destroys those who cannot support it; thus plants are scorched by the passage of fire, and the little animals are dragged along or trampled by the greater. This generation and this corruption, this betterment and deterioration of things render easy and natural the life of the universe considered as a single living being. Indeed, it would not otherwise have been possible that the particular beings it contains should have lived as if they were alone, should possess their ends in themselves, and should live only for themselves; since they are only parts, they must, as such, concur in the ends of the whole of which they are parts; and, so far as they are different, they could not each preserve its own life, because they are contained in the unity of the universal life; neither could they entirely remain in the same state, because the universe must possess permanence, and because of the universe, permanence consists in ever remaining in motion. [Ennead IV,4 (28) 32]

The universe is full of variety; it contains all the “reasons,” and an infinite number of different powers. So, in the human body, the eye, the bones, and the other organs each have their characteristic power; as, the bone in the hand does not have the same strength as the bone in the foot; and in general, each part has a power different from that possessed by every other part. But unless we observe very carefully, this diversity escapes us in the case of (natural) objects. Much more would it escape us in the world; for the forces that we see in it are (but) the traces of those that exist in the superior region. There must then be in the world an inconceivable and admirable variety of powers, especially in the stars that wander through the heavens. The universe is not a great and vast edifice, inanimate, and composed of things of which it would be easy to catalogue the different kinds, such as stones, lumber, and ornamental structures; it is a wakeful being, living in all its parts, though differently so in each; in short, it includes all that can ever be. This solves the problem, how inanimate matter can exist within an animated living being. Our discussions have therefore taught us that in the universe (nothing is inanimate; that, on the contrary) everything it contains is alive; but each in a different manner. We deny that there is life in objects that we do not see moving; but nevertheless they do live, though only with a latent life. Those whose life is visible are composed of those whose life is invisible, but which nevertheless contribute to the life of this animal by furnishing it with admirable powers. It would therefore be equally impossible that the universe should be alive unless each of the things it contained lived with its own life. Nevertheless the acts of the universe do not depend on choice; it acts without needing to choose, because it precedes any choice. Thus many things obey its forces. [Ennead IV,4 (28) 36]

Therefore intelligible entities must not be regarded as exterior to Intelligence, nor as impressions formed in it. Nor must we deny it the intimate possession of truth. Otherwise, any cognition of intelligibles is made impossible, and the reality of both them and Intelligence itself is destroyed. Intimate possession of all its essences is the only possible condition that will allow knowledge and truth to remain within Intelligence, that will save the reality of the intelligibles, that will make possible the knowledge of the essence of every thing, instead of limiting us to the mere notion of its qualities, a notion which gives us only the image and vestige of the object, which does not permit us to possess it, to unite ourselves with it, to become one with it. On this condition only, can Intelligence know, and know truly without being exposed to forgetfulness or groping uncertainty; can it be the location where truth will abide and essences will subsist; can it live and think — all of which should belong to this blessed nature, and without which nowhere could be found anything that deserved our esteem and respect. On this condition only will Intelligence be able to dispense with credulity or demonstration in believing realities; for Intelligence itself consists in these very realities, and possesses a clear self-consciousness. Intelligence sees that which is its own principle, sees what is below it, and to what it gives birth. Intelligence knows that in order to know its own nature, it must not place credence in any testimony except its own; that it essentially is intelligible reality. It therefore is truth itself, whose very being it is to conform to no foreign form, but to itself exclusively. Within Intelligence fuses both being, and that which affirms its existence; thus reality justifies itself. By whom could Intelligence be convinced of error? What demonstration thereof would be of any value? Since there is nothing truer than truth, any proof to the contrary would depend on some preceding proof, and while seeming to declare something different, would in reality be begging the question. [Ennead V,5 (32) 2]

What would be the nature of a world better than the present one, if it were possible? The present one must be a faithful image of the intelligible world, if the existence of the world be necessary, and if there be no better possible world. The whole earth is peopled with animate and even immortal beings; from here below up to the heaven (the world) is full of them. Why should the stars in the highest sphere (the fixed stars), and those in the lower spheres (the planets), not be divinities, in view of their regular motion, and their carrying out a magnificent revolution around the world? Why should they not possess virtue? What obstacle could hinder them from acquiring it? Not on high are found the things which here below make men evil; namely, that evil nature which both is troubled, and troubles. With their perpetual leisure why should not the stars possess intelligence, and be acquainted with the divinity and all the other intelligible deities? How should we possess a wisdom greater than theirs? Only a foolish man would entertain such thoughts. How could our souls be superior to the stars when at the hands of the universal Soul they undergo the constraint of descending here below? For the best part of souls is that which commands. If, on the contrary, the souls descend here below voluntarily, why should the (Gnostics) find fault with this sphere whither they came voluntarily, and from which they can depart whenever it suits them? That everything here below depends on the intelligible principles is proved by the fact that the organization of the world is such that, during this life, we are able to acquire wisdom, and live out a life similar to that of the divinities. [Ennead II,9 (33) 8]

How could it ever be considered pious to claim that divine Providence does not extend to sense-objects, or at least interests itself only in some of them (the spiritual men, not the psychical)? Such an assertion must surely be illogical. The (Gnostics) claim that divine Providence interests itself only in them. Was this the case while they were living on high, or only since they live here below? In the first case, why did they descend onto this earth? In the second, why do they remain here below? Besides, why should the Divinity not be present here below also? Otherwise how could He know that the (Gnostics), who are here below, have not forgotten Him, and have not become perverse? If He know those that have not become perverse, He must also know those who have become perverse, to distinguish the former from the latter. He must therefore be present to all men, and to the entire world, in some manner or other. Thus the world will participate in the Divinity. If the Divinity deprived the world of His presence, He would deprive you also thereof, and you could not say anything of Him or of the beings below Him. The world certainly derives its existence from Him whether the divinity protect you by His providence or His help, and whatever be the name by which you refer to Him. The world never was deprived of the Divinity, and never will be. The world has a better right than any individuals to the attentions of Providence, and to participation in divine perfections. This is particularly true in respect to the universal Soul, as is proved by the existence and wise arrangement of the world. Which of these so proud individuals is as well arranged, and as wise as the universe, and could even enter into such a comparison without ridicule or absurdity? Indeed, unless made merely in the course of a discussion, such a comparison is really an impiety. To doubt such truths is really the characteristic of a blind and senseless man, without experience or reason, and who is so far removed from knowledge of the intelligible world that he does not even know the sense-world? Could any musician who had once grasped the intelligible harmonies hear that of sense-sounds without profound emotion? What skilful geometrician or arithmetician will fail to enjoy symmetry, order and proportion, in the objects that meet his view? Though their eyes behold the same objects as common people, experts see in them different things; when, for instance, with practiced glance, they examine some picture. When recognizing in sense-objects an image of intelligible (essence), they are disturbed and reminded of genuine beauty: that is the origin of love. One rises to the intelligible by seeing a shining image of beauty glowing in a human face. Heavy and senseless must be that mind which could contemplate all the visible beauties, this harmony, and this imposing arrangement, this grand panoramic view furnished by the stars in spite of their distance, without being stirred to enthusiasm, and admiration of their splendor and magnificence. He who can fail to experience such feelings must have failed to observe sense-objects, or know even less the intelligible world. [Ennead II,9 (33) 16]

Vainly also do some (Gnostics) boast of having to leave their bodies when they will have ceased to live, while this is impossible to the divinities because they always fill the same function in heaven. They speak thus only because of their ignorance of what it is to be outside of the body, and of how the universal Soul in her entirety wisely governs what is inanimate. [Ennead II,9 (33) 18]

It might, indeed, be objected that (the divinity) knew that the living organism would be exposed to heat, cold, and other physical conditions; and that as a result of this knowledge, to keep them from perishing, He granted them, as tools, senses and organs. In our turn we shall ask whether the divinity gave the organs to the living organisms that already possessed the senses, or whether, He endowed souls with senses and organs simultaneously. In the latter case, though they were souls, they did not previously possess the sensitive faculties. But if the souls possessed the sensitive faculties since the time they were produced, and if they were produced (with these faculties) in order to descend into generation, then it was natural for them to do so. In this case it seems that it must be contrary to their nature to avoid generation, and to dwell in the intelligible world. They would seem made to belong to the body, and to live in evil. Thus divine Providence would retain them in evil, and the divinity would arrive at this result by reasoning; in any case, He would have reasoned. [Ennead VI,7 (38) 1]

But there are some (Aristotelians or Peripatetics) who might think that the intelligible Man and the sense-man form but one. Let us first discuss this point. Does the sense-man have a being different from the soul which produces him, and makes him live and reason? Is he the soul that is disposed in some special manner? Is he the soul that uses the body in some particular way? If man be a reasonable living organism, and if the latter be composed of soul and body, this definition of man will not be identical with that of the soul. If the man be defined as being the composite of the reasonable soul and the body, how can he be an immortal hypostatic existence? This definition suits the sense-man only from the moment that the union of the soul and the body has occurred; it expresses what will be, instead of setting forth what we call the Man-in-himself; rather than being a real determination of his characteristics, it would be only a description which would not reveal the original being. Instead of defining form engaged in matter, it indicates what is the composite of soul and body, after the union has occurred. In this case, we do not yet know what is man considered in his being, which is intelligible. To the claim that the definition of sense-things should express something composite, it might be answered, that we do acknowledge that we must not determine the consistence of each thing. Now if it be absolutely necessary to define the forms engaged in matter, we must also define the being that constitutes the man; that is necessary especially for those (Peripateticians) who, by a definition, mean a statement of a being’s original “characteristics.” [Ennead VI,7 (38) 4]

Who then will be able to contemplate this multiple and universal Life, primary and one, without being charmed therewith, and without scorning every other kind of life? For our lives here below, that are so weak, impotent, incomplete, whose impurity soils other lives, can be considered as nothing but tenebrous. As soon as you consider these lives, you no longer see the others, you no longer live with these other lives in which everything is living; which are relieved of all impurity, and of all contact with evil. Indeed, evil reigns here below only; here where we have but a trace of Intelligence and of the intelligible life. On the contrary, in the intelligible world exists “that archetype which is beneficent (which possesses the form of Good”), as says Plato, because it possesses good by the forms (that is, by the ideas). Indeed, the absolute Good is something different from the Intelligence which is good only because its life is passed in contemplating the Good. The objects contemplated by Intelligence are the essences which have the form of Good, and which it possesses from the moment it contemplates the Good. Intelligence receives the Good, not such as the Good is in itself, but such as Intelligence is capable of receiving it. The Good is indeed the supreme principle. From the Good therefore, Intelligence derives its perfection; to the Good Intelligence owes its begetting of all the intelligible entities; on the one hand, Intelligence could not consider the Good without thinking it; on the other, it must not have seen in the Good the intelligible entities, otherwise, Intelligence itself could not have begotten them. Thus Intelligence has, from the Good, received the power to beget, and to fill itself with that which it has begotten. The Good does not Himself possess the things which He thus donates; for He is absolutely one, and that which has been given to Intelligence is manifold. Incapable in its plenitude to embrace, and in its unity to possess the power it was receiving, Intelligence split it up, thus rendering it manifold, so as to possess it at least in fragments. Thus everything begotten by Intelligence proceeds from the power derived from the Good, and bears its form; as intelligence itself is good, and as it is composed of things that bear the form of Good, it is a varied good. The reader may be assisted in forming a conception of it by imagining a variegated living sphere, or a composite of animated and brilliant faces. Or again, imagine pure souls, pure and complete (in their essence), all united by their highest (faculties), and then universal Intelligence seated on this summit, and illuminating the whole intelligible region. In this simile, the reader who imagines it considers it as something outside of himself; but (to contemplate Intelligence) one has to become Intelligence, and then give oneself a panorama of oneself. [Ennead VI,7 (38) 15]

It will further be suggested (by followers of Aristotle  ) that we stop at Intelligence, predicating goodness of it. For life and soul are images of Intelligence. It is to Intelligence that the soul aspires, it is according to Intelligence that the soul judges, it is on Intelligence that the soul regulates herself, when she pronounces that justice is better than injustice, in preferring every kind of virtue to every kind of vice, and in holding in high estimation what she considers preferable. Unfortunately, the soul does not aspire to Intelligence exclusively. As might be demonstrated in a long discussion, Intelligence is not the supreme goal to which we aspire, and not everything aspires to Intelligence, whilst everything aspires to the Good. The (beings) which do not possess intelligence do not all seek to possess it, while those who do possess it, do not limit themselves to it. Intelligence is sought only as the result of a train of reasoning, whilst Good is desired even before reason comes into play. If the object of desire be to live, to exist always, and to be active, this object is not desired because of Intelligence, but because of its being good, inasmuch as the Good is its principle and its goal. It is only in this respect that life is desirable. [Ennead VI,7 (38) 20]

As to the soul, she sees the divinity only by growing confused, as it were by exhausting the intelligence which resides in her; or rather, it is her first intelligence that sees; but the vision the latter has of the divinity reaches down to the soul, which then fuses with intelligence. It is the Good, extending over intelligence and the soul, and condescending to their level, which spreads over them, and fuses them; hovering above them, it bestows on them the happy vision, and the ineffable feeling of itself. It raises them so high that they are no more in any place, nor within anything whatever, in any of the senses in which one thing is said to be within another. For the Good is not within anything; the intelligible location is within it, but it is not in anything else. Then the soul moves no more, because the divinity is not in motion. To speak accurately, she is no longer soul, because the divinity does not live, but is above life; neither is she intelligence, because the divinity is above intelligence; because there must be complete assimilation (between the soul and the divinity). Finally, the soul does not think even the divinity, because in this condition she does not think at all. [Ennead VI,7 (38) 35]

The question must be examined carefully, for it will later be applied to the divinities. Responsibility has been traced to the will, and this to reason first, and later to right reason. Better, to reason enlightened by knowledge; for freedom of will is not possessed incontestably if one be ignorant of why his decision or action is good, if one have been led to do the right thing by chance, or by some sensible representation. Since the latter is not within our power, we could not impute to free will the actions it inspired. By “sensible representation,” or, “phantasy,” we mean the imagination excited within us by the passions of the body; for it offers us different images according as the body has need of food, of drink, or of sensual pleasures. Those who act according to the “sensible representations” excited within them by divers qualities of the humors of the body are not wholly responsible for their actions. That is why depraved men, who usually act according to these images, do not, according to us, perform actions that are free and voluntary. We ascribe free will only to him who, enfranchised from the passions of the body, performs actions determined solely by intelligence. We refer liberty, therefore, to the noblest principle, to the action of the intelligence; we regard as free only the decisions whose principle it is, and as voluntary, only the desires it inspires. This freedom is that which we ascribe to the divinities, who live in conformity with Intelligence, and with the Desire of which it is the principle. [Ennead VI,8 (39) 3]

The (Aristotelian) ideal of living well and happiness are (practically) identical. Should we, on that account, grant even to animals the privilege of achieving happiness? Why might we not say that they live well, if it be granted them, in their lives, to follow the course of nature, without obstacles? For if to live well consist either in pleasure (pleasant passions, as the Epicureans taught), or in realizing one’s own individual aim (the Stoic ideal), then this living well is, in either case, possible for animals, who can both enjoy pleasure, and accomplish their peculiar aim. Thus singing birds live a life desirable for them, if they enjoy pleasure, and sing conformably to their nature. If further we should define happiness as achieving the supreme purpose towards which nature aspires (the Stoic ideal), we should, even in this case, admit that animals share in happiness when they accomplish this supreme purpose. Then nature arouses in them no further desires, because their whole career is completed, and their life is filled from beginning to end. [Ennead I,4 (46) 1]

There are no doubt some who may object to our admitting to happiness living beings other than man. They might even point out that on this basis happiness could not be refused to even the lowest beings, such as plants: for they also live, their life also has a purpose, by which they seek to fulfil their development. However, it would seem rather unreasonable to say, that living beings other than humans cannot possess happiness by this mere reason that to us they seem pitiable. Besides, it would be quite possible to deny to plants what may be predicated of other living beings, on the grounds that plants lack emotion. Some might hold they are capable of happiness, on the strength of their possessing life, for a being that lives can live well or badly; and in this way we could say that they possess or lack well-being, and bear, or do not bear fruits. If (as Aristippus thought), pleasure is the goal of man, and if to live well is constituted by enjoying it, it would be absurd to claim that no living beings other than man could live well. The same argument applies if we define happiness as (a state of imperturbable tranquility, by Epicurus   called) ataraxy; or as (the Stoic ideal, of) living conformably to nature. [Ennead I,4 (46) 1]

The Good would thus be reduced to no more than sensation, or the actualization of the sense-life. In this case, to possess it, it is sufficient to perceive irrespective of the content of that perception. Other persons might assert that goodness results from the union of these two things: of the state of the soul, and of the knowledge the soul has of it. If then the Good consist in the perception of some particular state, we shall have to ask how elements which, by themselves, are indifferent could, by their union, constitute the good. Other theories are that the Good consists in some particular state, or in possession of some particular disposition, and conscious enjoyment of the presence of the Good. These would, however, still have to answer the question whether, for good living, it be sufficient that the being knows he possesses this state; or must he know not only that this state is pleasant, but also that it is the Good? If then it be necessary to realize that it is the Good, the matter is one no longer of the function of sensation, but of a faculty higher than the senses. To live well, in this case, it will no longer be sufficient to possess pleasure, but we shall have to know that pleasure is the Good. The cause of happiness will not be the presence of pleasure itself, but the power of judging that pleasure is a good. Now judgment is superior to affection; it is reason or intelligence, while pleasure is only an affection, and what is irrational could not be superior to reason. How would reason forget itself to recognize as superior what is posited in a genus opposed to it? These men who deny happiness to plants, who explain it as some form of sensation, seems to us, in spite of themselves, to be really seeking happiness of a higher nature, and to consider it as this better thing which is found only in a completer life. [Ennead I,4 (46) 2]

It has often been objected that we should reckon with the bodily pains, the diseases, the obstacles which may hinder action, cases of unconsciousness, which might result from certain philtres and diseases (as the Peripatetics objected). Under these conditions, they say, the sage could not live well, and be happy — without either mentioning poverty and lack of recognition. All these evils, not forgetting the famous misfortunes of Priam, justify serious objections. Indeed, even if the sage endured all these evils (as indeed he easily does), they would none the less be contrary to his will; and happy life must necessarily be one that conforms to our will. The sage is not only a soul endowed with particular dispositions; the body also must be comprised within his personality (as also thought the Pythagorean Archytas). This assertion seems reasonable so far as the passions of the body are felt by the man himself, and as they suggest desires and aversions to him. If then pleasure be an element of happiness, how could the man afflicted by the blows of fate and by pains still be happy, even if he were virtuous? To be happy, the divinities need only to enjoy perfect life; but men, having their soul united to a lower part, must seek their happiness in the life of each of these two parts that compose him, and not exclusively in one of the two, even though it were the higher. Indeed, as soon as one of them suffers, the other one, in spite of its superiority, finds its actions hindered. Otherwise we shall have to regard neither the body, nor the sensations that flow from it; and to seek only what by itself could suffice to procure happiness, independently of the body. [Ennead I,4 (46) 5]

Why then does the happy man desire to enjoy the presence of these advantages, and the absence of their contraries? It must be because they contribute, not to his happiness, but to his existence; because their contraries tend to make him lose existence, hindering the enjoyment of the good, without however removing it. Besides, he who possesses what is best wishes to possess it purely, without any mixture. Nevertheless, when a foreign obstacle occurs, the good still persists even in spite of this obstacle. In short, if some accident happen to the happy man against his will, his happiness is in no way affected thereby. Otherwise, he would change and lose his happiness daily; as if, for instance, he had to mourn a son, or if he lost some of his possessions. Many events may occur against his wish without disturbing him in the enjoyment of the good he has attained. It may be objected that it is the great misfortunes, and not trifling accidents (which can disturb the happiness of the wise man). Nevertheless, in human things, is there any great enough not to be scorned by him who has climbed to a principle superior to all, and who no longer depends on lower things? Such a man will not be able to see anything great in the favors of fortune, whatever they be, as in being king, in commanding towns, or peoples; in founding or building cities, even though he himself should receive that glory; he will attach no importance to the loss of his power, or even to the ruin of his fatherland. If he consider all that as a great evil, or even only as an evil, he will have a ridiculous opinion. He will no longer be a virtuous man; for, as Jupiter is my witness, he would be highly valuing mere wood, or stones, birth, or death; while he should insist on the incontestable truth that death is better than the corporeal life (as held by Herodotus). Even though he were sacrificed, he would not consider death any worse merely because it occurred at the feet of the altars. Being buried is really of small importance, for his body will rot as well above as below ground (as thought Theodorus of Cyrene). Neither will he grieve at being buried without pomp and vulgar ostentation, and to have seemed unworthy of being placed in a magnificent tomb. That would be smallness of mind. If he were carried off as a captive, he would still have a road open to leave life, in the case that he should no longer be allowed to hope for happiness. (Nor would he be troubled if the members of his family, such as sons (?) and daughters (and female relatives?) were carried off into captivity. If he had arrived to the end of his life without seeing such occurrences (we would indeed be surprised). Would he leave this world supposing that such things cannot happen? Such an opinion would be absurd. Would he not have realized that his own kindred were exposed to such dangers? The opinion that such things could happen will not make him any less happy. No, he will be happy even with that belief. He would still be so even should that occur; he will indeed reflect that such is the nature of this world, that one must undergo such accidents, and submit. Often perhaps men dragged into captivity will live better (than in liberty); and besides, if their captivity be insupportable, it is in their power to release themselves. If they remain, it is either because their reason so induces them — and then their lot cannot be too hard; or it is against the dictates of their reason, in which case they have none but themselves to blame. The wise man, therefore, will not be unhappy because of the folly of his own people; he will not allow his lot to depend on the happiness or misfortunes of other people. [Ennead I,4 (46) 7]

It has sometimes been said that a man in such a condition does not really live. (If such be their honest opinion), they must be told that he does live, even if they be incapable of understanding his happiness and his life. If this seem to them incredible, they should reflect whether their own admission that such a man lives and is virtuous, does not imply that under those circumstances he is happy. Neither should they begin by supposing that he is annihilated, only later to consider whether he be happy. Neither should they confine themselves to externalities after having admitted that he turns his whole attention on things that he bears within himself; in short, not to believe that the goal of his will inheres in external objects. Indeed, such considering of external objects as the goal of the will of the virtuous man, would be tantamount to a denial of the very essence (being) of happiness; likewise, insisting that those are the objects he desires. His wish would undoubtedly be that all men should be happy, and that none of them should suffer any evil; but, nevertheless, he is none the less happy when that does not happen. Other people, again, would say that it was unreasonable for the virtuous man to form such an (impossible) wish, since elimination of evils here below is out of the question. This, however, would constitute an admission of our belief that the only goal of the virtuous man’s will is the conversion of the soul towards herself. [Ennead I,4 (46) 11]

Let us now imagine two wise men, the first of whom possesses everything that heart can wish for, while the other is in a contrary position. Shall they be said to be equally happy? Yes, if they be equally wise. Even if the one possessed physical beauty, and all the other advantages that do not relate either to wisdom, virtue, contemplation of the good, or perfect life; what would be the use of all that since he who possesses all these advantages is not considered as really being happier than he who lacks them? Such wealth would not even help a flute-player to accomplish his object! We, however, consider the happy man only from the standpoint of the weakness of our mind, considering as serious and frightful what the really happy man considers indifferent. For the man could not be wise, nor consequently happy, so long as he has not succeeded in getting rid of all these vain ideas, so long as he has not entirely transformed himself, so long as he does not within himself contain the confidence that he is sheltered from all evil. Only then will he live without being troubled by any fear. The only thing that should affect him, would be the fear that he is not an expert in wisdom, that he is only partly wise. As to unforeseen fears that might get the better of him before he had had the time to reflect, during a moment of abstraction of attention, the wise man will hasten to turn them away, treating that which within himself becomes agitated as a child that has lost its way through pain. He will tranquilize it either by reason, or even by a threat, though uttered without passion. Thus the mere sight of a worthy person suffices to calm a child. Besides, the wise man will not hold aloof either from friendship nor gratitude. He will treat his own people as he treats himself; giving to his friends as much as to his own person; and he will give himself up to friendship, without ceasing to exercise intelligence therein. [Ennead I,4 (46) 15]

If the virtuous man were not located in this elevated life of intelligence; if on the contrary he were supposed to be subject to the blows of fate, and if we feared that they would overtake him, our ideal would no longer be that of the virtuous man such as we outline it; we would be considering a vulgar man, mingled with good and evil, of whom a life equally mingled with good and evil would be predicated. Even such a man might not easily be met with, and besides, if we did meet him, he would not deserve to be called a wise man; for there would be nothing great about him, neither the dignity of wisdom, nor the purity of good. Happiness, therefore, is not located in the life of the common man. Plato rightly says that you have to leave the earth to ascend to the good, and that to become wise and happy, one should turn one’s look towards the only Good, trying to acquire resemblance to Him, and to live a life conformable to Him. That indeed must suffice the wise man to reach his goal. To the remainder he should attach no more value than to changes of location, none of which can add to his happiness. If indeed he pay any attention to external things scattered here and there around him, it is to satisfy the needs of his body so far as he can. But as he is something entirely different from the body, he is never disturbed at having to leave it; and he will abandon it whenever nature will have indicated the time. Besides, he always reserves to himself the right to deliberate about this (time to leave the world by suicide). Achievement of happiness will indeed be his chief goal; nevertheless, he will also act, not only in view of his ultimate goal, or himself, but on the body to which he is united. He will care for this body, and will sustain it as long as possible. Thus a musician uses his lyre so long as he can; but as soon as it is beyond using, he repairs it, or abandons playing the lyre, because he now can do without it. Leaving it on the ground, he will look at it almost with scorn, and will sing without its accompaniment. Nevertheless it will not have been in vain that this lyre will have been originally given to him; for he will often have profited by its use. [Ennead I,4 (46) 16]

Granting these premises, we may start out on an explanation of the above mentioned difficulties. For in the world we will find remarkable traces of the Providence and divine Power from which it proceeds. Let us take first, the actions of souls who do evil voluntarily; the actions of the wicked who, for instance, harm virtuous men, or other men equally evil. Providence need not be held responsible for the wickedness of these souls. The cause should be sought in the voluntary determinations of those souls themselves. For we have proved that the souls have characteristic motions, and that while here below they are not pure, but rather are animals (as would naturally be the case with souls united to bodies). Now, it is not surprising that, finding themselves in such a condition, they would live conformably to that condition. Indeed, it is not the formation of the world that made them descend here below. Even before the world existed, they were already disposed to form part of it, to busy themselves with it, to infuse it with life, to administer it, and in it to exert their power in a characteristic manner, either by presiding over its (issues), and by communicating to it something of their power, or by descending into it, or by acting in respect to the world each in its individual manner. The latter question, however, does not refer to the subject we are now considering; here it will be sufficient to show that, however these circumstances occur, Providence is not to be blamed. [Ennead III,2 (47) 7]

Indeed it would be better to be dead than to live thus in contradiction with the laws that rule the universe. If, when men are in opposition to these laws, divine Providence preserved peace in the midst of all follies and vices, it would deserve the charge of negligence in allowing the prevalence of evil. The evil rule only because of the cowardice of those who obey them; this is juster than if it were otherwise. [Ennead III,2 (47) 8]

Nor should the sphere of Providence be extended to the point of suppressing our own action. For if Providence did everything, and Providence alone existed, it would thereby be annihilated. To what, indeed, would it apply? There would be nothing but divinity! It is indeed incontestable that divinity exists, and that its sphere extends over other beings — but divinity does not suppress the latter. For instance, divinity approaches man, and preserves in him what constitutes humanity; that is, divinity makes him live in conformity to the law of Providence, and makes him fulfil the commandments of that law. Now, this law decrees that the life of men who have become virtuous should be good both here below and after their death; and that the evil should meet an opposite fate. It would be unreasonable to expect the existence of men who forget themselves to come and save the evil, even if the latter addressed prayers to the divinity. Neither should we expect the divinities to renounce their blissful existence to come and administer our affairs; nor that the virtuous men, whose life is holy and superior to human conditions, should be willing to govern the wicked. The latter never busy themselves with promoting the good to the governing of other men, and themselves to be good (as thought Plato). They are even jealous of the man who is good by himself; there would indeed be more good people if virtuous men were chosen as chiefs. [Ennead III,2 (47) 9]

What is our relation with God? He hovers over the intelligible nature, and real being; while we, being on the third rank as counted from thence, are of the undivided universal Soul, which is indivisible because she forms part of the upper world, while she is divisible in regard to the bodies. She is indeed divisible in regard to the bodies, since she permeates each of them as far as they live; but at the same time she is indivisible because she is one in the universe. [Ennead I,1 (53) 8]

Let us study the dependence of everything on the Good. The inanimate trends toward the Soul, while the animate Soul trends towards the Good through Intelligence. As far as anything possesses unity, essence or form, it participates in the Good. By its participation in unity, essence and form each being participates in the Good, even though the latter be only an image, for the things in which it participates are only images of unity, essence, and form. For the (first) Soul as she approaches Intelligence, she acquires a life which approaches closer to truth; and she owes this to Intelligence; thus (by virtue of Intelligence) she possesses the form of the Good. To possess the latter, all she needs to do is to turn her looks towards it; for Intelligence is the next after the Good. Therefore, to those to whom it is granted to live, life is the good. Likewise, for those who participate in intelligence, Intelligence is the good. Consequently, such (a being as) joins intelligence to life possesses a double good. [Ennead I,7 (54) 2]

Though life be a good, it does not belong to all beings. Life is incomplete for the evil person, as for an eye that does not see distinctly; neither accomplish their purpose. If, for us, life, though mingled as it is, be a good, even if an imperfect one, how shall we continue to assert that death is not an evil? But for whom would it be an evil? This we must ask because evil must necessarily be an attribute of somebody. Now there is no more evil for a being which, though even existing, is deprived of life, any more than for a stone (as they say). But if, after death, the being still live, if it be still animate, it will possess good, and so much the more as it exercises its faculties without the body. If it be united to the universal Soul, evidently there can be no evil for it, any more than for the gods who possess good unmingled with evil. Similar is the case of the soul which preserves her purity, inasmuch as he who loses her finds that life, and not death, is the real Evil. If there be chastisements in Hades, again is life an evil for the soul, because she is not pure. If, further, we define life as the union of the soul with the body, and death as their separation, the soul can pass through both these conditions (without, on that account, being unhappy, or losing her hold on the Good). [Ennead I,7 (54) 3]