Guthrie-Plotinus: philosophers

(a.) (Neither a material molecule, nor a material aggregation of material atoms could possess life and intelligence.) First, let us consider the nature of this alleged soul-body. As every soul necessarily possesses life, and as the body, considered as being the soul, must obtain at least two molecules, if not more (there are three possibilities): either only one of them possesses life, or all of them possess it, or none of them. If one molecule alone possesses life, it alone will be the soul. Of what nature will be that molecule supposed to possess life by itself? Will it be water (Hippo), air (Anaximenes, Archelaus, and Diogenes), earth, or fire (Heraclitus  , Stobaeus?) But those are elements that are inanimate by themselves, and which, even when they are animated, possess but a borrowed life. Still there is no other kind of body. Even those (philosophers, like the Pythagoreans) who posited elements other (than water, air, earth and fire) still considered them to be bodies, and not souls, not even attributing souls to them. The theory that life results from the union of molecules of which, nevertheless, none by itself possesses life, is an absurd hypothesis. If further any molecule possesses life, then a single one would be sufficient. [Ennead IV,7 (2) 2]

Others (like the Stoic Chrysippus  ) define Fate otherwise: it is “the concatenation of causes” in “their connection towards the infinite,” by which every posterior fact is the consequence of an anterior one. Thus the things that follow relate to the things that precede, and, as their effects, necessarily depend thereupon. Amidst these (Stoic) philosophers there are two conceptions of Fate: some consider that everything depends from a single principle, while others do not. These views we shall study later. [Ennead III,1 (3) 2]

The same objections apply to the doctrine of the philosophers who explain everything by other physical causes (such as “elements”). Principles of inferior nature might well warm us, cool us, or even make us perish; but they could not beget any of the operations which the soul produces; these have an entirely different cause. [Ennead III,1 (3) 3]

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 manifoldness 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). [Ennead V,1 (10) 6]

This is how Plato establishes three degrees in the hierarchy of being: “Everything is around the king of all.” He is here speaking of first rank entities. He adds, “What is of the second order is around the second principle; and what is of the third order is around the third principle.” Plato further says that “God is the father of the cause.” By cause, he means Intelligence; for, in the system of Plato, it is Intelligence which plays the part of demiurgic creator. Plato adds that it is this power that forms the Soul in the cup. As the cause is intelligence, Plato applies the name of father to the absolute Good, the principle superior to Intelligence and superior to “Being.” In several passages he calls the Idea “existence and intelligence.” He therefore really teaches that Intelligence is begotten from the Good, and the Soul from Intelligence. This teaching, indeed, is not new; it has been taught from the most ancient times, but without being brought out in technical terms. We claim to be no more than the interpreters of the earlier philosophers, and to show by the very testimony of Plato that they held the same views as we do. [Ennead V,1 (10) 8]

Among ancient philosophers, those who most faithfully followed the doctrine of Pythagoras  , of his disciples, and of Pherecydes, have specially dealt with the intelligible. Some of them have committed their opinions to their written works; others have set them forth only in discussions that have not been preserved in writing. There are others of them, also, who have left us nothing on the subject. [Ennead V,1 (10) 9]

(Our answer to the above objection is this:) To begin with, not every residence is necessarily a mass, unless it have already received extension. The soul, which possesses all things, contains them all simultaneously. If it possessed extension, it would possess all things in extension. Consequently matter receives all it contains in extension, because it is capable thereof. Likewise in animals and plants there is a correspondence between the growth and diminution of their magnitude, with that of their quality. It would be wrong to claim that magnitude is necessary to matter because, in sense-objects, there exists a previous magnitude, on which is exerted the action of the forming principle; for the matter of these objects is not pure matter, but individual matter (as said Aristotle  ). Matter pure and simple must receive its extension from some other principle. Therefore the residence of form could not be a mass; for in receiving extension, it would also receive the other qualities. Matter therefore, is the image of extension, because as it is primary matter, it possesses the ability to become extended. People often imagine matter as empty extension; consequently several philosophers have claimed that matter is identical with emptiness. I repeat: matter is the image of extension because the soul, when considering matter, is unable to determine anything, spreads into indetermination, without being able to circumscribe or mark anything; otherwise, matter would determine something. This substrate could not properly be called big or little; it is simultaneously big and little (as said Aristotle). It is simultaneously extended and non-extended, because it is the matter of extension. If it were enlarged or made smaller, it would somehow move in extension. Its indetermination is an extension which consists in being the very residence of extension, but really in being only imaginary extension, as has been explained above. Other beings, that have no extension, but which are forms, are each of them determinate, and consequently imply no other idea of extension. On the contrary, matter, being indeterminate, and incapable of remaining within itself, being moved to receive all forms everywhere, ever being docile, by this very docility, and by the generation (to which it adapts itself), becomes manifold. It is in this way its nature seems to be extension. [Ennead II,4 (12) 11]

Shall we have recourse to the (Stoic) “continuity of parts” to explain the sympathy which interrelates all the organs? This hypothesis, however, is useless, unless this continuity eventuate in unity. For we cannot admit, as do certain (Stoic) philosophers, who deceive themselves, that sensations focus in the “predominating principle” by “relayed transmission.” To begin with, it is a wild venture to predicate a “predominating principle” of the soul. How indeed could we divide the soul and distinguish several parts therein? By what superiority, quantity or quality are we going to distinguish the “predominating part” in a single continuous mass? Further, under this hypothesis, we may ask, Who is going to feel? Will it be the “predominating part” exclusively, or the other parts with it? If that part exclusively, it will feel only so long as the received impression will have been transmitted to itself, in its particular residence; but if the impression impinge on some other part of the soul, which happens to be incapable of sensation, this part will not be able to transmit the impression to the (predominating) part that directs, and sensation will not occur. Granting further that the impression does reach the predominating part itself, it might be received in a twofold manner; either by one of its (subdivided) parts, which, having perceived the sensation, will not trouble the other parts to feel it, which would be useless; or, by several parts simultaneously, and then we will have manifold, or even infinite sensations which will all differ from each other. For instance, the one might say, “It is I who first received the impression”; the other one might say, “I received the impression first received by another”; while each, except the first, will be in ignorance of the location of the impression; or again, each part will make a mistake, thinking that the impression occurred where itself is. Besides, if every part of the soul can feel as well as the predominating part, why at all speak of a “predominating part?” What need is there for the sensation to reach through to it? How indeed would the soul recognize as an unity the result of multiple sensations; for instance, of such as come from the ears or eyes? [Ennead IV,2 (21) 2]

When a sound resounds in the air, and when it constitutes a word, the ear that is present hears and perceives this sound and this word, especially if the place be quiet. If another ear should come to be in this place, the sound and the word approach it likewise, or rather, this ear will approach the word. Suppose also that several eyes consider the same object; all are filled with its sight, although this object occupy a determinate place. Thus the same object will impress different organs with different perceptions, because the one is an eye, and the other is an ear. Likewise, all the things that can participate in the soul do participate therein, but each receives a different power from one and the same principle. The sound is everywhere present in the air; it is not a divided unity, but a unity present everywhere, entirely. Likewise, if the air receive the form of the visible object, it possesses it without division, for, in whatever place the eye should place itself, it perceives the form of the visible object; at, least, according to our opinion, for not all philosophers agree herewith. We give these examples to explain how several things may participate in one and the same principle. Besides, the example of the sound suffices to demonstrate what we here wish to explain; namely, that the entire form is present in the entire air; for all men would not hear the same thing, if the word uttered by the sound were everywhere entire, and if each ear did not likewise hear it entire. Now if in this case the entire word spread in the entire air, without some definite part of the word being united to a certain part of the air, and some other part of the word being united with another part of the air, how could we refuse to admit that a single Soul penetrates everywhere without dividing herself with the things, that she is entirely present everywhere where she is, that she is everywhere in the world without dividing into parts that correspond to those of the world? When she has united with the bodies, in whatever kind of union, she bears an analogy to the word which has been pronounced in the air, while before uniting with the bodies, she resembles him who pronounces, or is about to pronounce some word. Nevertheless, even when she has united to the bodies, she does not really in certain respects cease resembling him who pronounces a word, and who, while pronouncing it, possesses it, and gives it at the same time. Doubtless the word does not have a nature identical with those things that we proposed to illustrate by this example; nevertheless, there is much analogy between them. [Ennead VI,4 (22) 12]

If the soul could not become evil, and if there be but a single way for the soul to enter the body, and to remain present within it, there would be no meaning in the periodical “descents” and “ascents” of the soul, the “chastisements” she undergoes, and the “migration” into the bodies other (than human bodies, that is, animal ones). Such (mythological) teachings have indeed been handed down from the ancient philosophers who best expounded the soul. Now it will be well to show that our doctrine harmonizes with that which they have taught, or that at least there is no contradiction between them. [Ennead VI,4 (22) 16]

We have just explained that, when the body participates in the soul, the soul does not somehow go beyond herself to enter into the body, that it is on the contrary the body which enters into the soul, on participating in life, or evidently, when the ancient philosophers say that the soul comes into the body, this means that the body enters into essence, and participates in the life and the soul; in one word, to “come” does not here signify passing from one place into another, but indicates in what way the soul enters into dealings with the body. Therefore “to descend” means, for the soul, to grow into a body, in the sense in which we have explained it; that means, to give the body something of the soul, and not for the soul to become (the property) of the body. Consequently, the soul’s issuing from the body must again mean that the body ceases to participate in life. [Ennead VI,4 (22) 16]

If all the elements, when begotten, were to be gathered into one sphere, (there would be an opportunity of observing and comparing them. The result would be a conclusion that) this sphere does not have a plurality or a diversity of authors, one of whom would have created one part, and another author, another. The production of this sphere will imply a single Author, who created it by acting, as a whole; not producing one part of creation by one part of Himself, and another part of creation, by another part of Himself. In the latter case, the sphere might still have several authors, if the production of the totality were not traced to a single, indivisible Principle. Though this single and indivisible Principle be the author of the entire sphere, it does not interpenetrate the sphere; for it is the entire Sphere which depends on its author. One only and single Life contains the entire Sphere, because this is located in a single Life. All the things that are in the sphere may, therefore, be reduced to a single Life, and all the souls form a Soul which is single, but which is simultaneously infinite. That is why certain philosophers have said that the soul is a number; others, that the number produces increase in the soul, no doubt meaning by that, that nothing is deficient in soul, that she is everywhere without ceasing to be herself. As to the expression, “to produce increase to the soul,” this must not be taken literally, but so as to mean that the soul, in spite of her unity, is absent nowhere; for the unity of the soul is not a unity that can be measured; that is the peculiarity of another being which falsely claims unity for itself, and which succeeds in gaining the appearance of unity only by participating therein. The Essence which really is one is not a unity composed of several things; for the withdrawal of one of them would destroy the total unity. Nor is it separated from the other things by limits; for if the other things were assimilated thereto, it would become smaller in the case where these would be greater; either it would split itself up into fragments by seeking to penetrate all, and instead of being present to all, as an entirety, it would be reduced to touching their parts by its own parts. If then this Essence may justly be called one, if unity may be predicated of its being, it must, in a certain manner, seem to contain the nature opposed to its own; that is, the manifold; it must not attract this manifoldness from without, but it must, from and by itself, possess this manifold; it must veritably be one, and by its own unity be infinite and manifold. Being such, it seems as if it were everywhere a Reason (a being), which is single, and which contains itself. It is itself that which contains; and thus containing itself, it is no where distant from itself; it is everywhere in itself. It is not separated from any other being by a local distance; for it existed before all the things which are in a locality; it had no need of them; it is they, on the contrary, which need to be founded on it. Even though they should come to be founded on it, it would not, on that account, cease resting on itself as a foundation. If this foundation were to be shaken, immediately all other things would perish, since they would have lost the base on which they rested. Now this Essence could not lose reason to the point of dissolving itself by withdrawing from itself; and to be about to trust itself to the deceptive nature of space which needs it for preservation. [Ennead VI,5 (23) 9]

It (may be objected) that nothing hinders Intelligence from knowing the changes of other beings, such as, for instance, the periodical revolutions of the world, without itself undergoing any change. But then it would have to follow the changes of the moving object, as it would think first of one thing, and then of another. Besides, thought is something else than memory, and we must not apply to self-consciousness the name of memory. Indeed, intelligence does not busy itself with retaining its thoughts, and with hindering them from escaping; otherwise it might also fear lest it lose its own nature (“Being”). For the soul herself, remembering is not the same as recalling innate notions. When the soul has descended here below, she may possess these notions without thinking of them, especially if it be only recently that she entered into the body. The ancient philosophers seem to have applied the terms memory and reminiscence to the actualization by which the soul thinks of the entities she possesses; that (however) is a quite special kind of memory, entirely independent of time. [Ennead IV,3 (27) 25]

Therefore, if the governing Power of the world seems to resemble those who learn, it will be necessary to attribute to it reasoning, reflection, and memory, so that it may compare the past with the present or the future. But if, on the contrary, its knowledge be such as to have nothing more to learn, and to remain in a perfectly stable condition, it evidently possesses wisdom by itself. If it know future things — a privilege that could not be denied it under penalty of absurdity — why would it not also know how they are to occur? Knowing all this, it would have no further need of comparing the past with the present. Besides, this knowledge of its future will not resemble the prevision of the foretellers, but to the certitude entertained by makers about their handiwork. This certitude admits no hesitation, no ambiguity; it is absolute; as soon as it has obtained assent, it remains immutable. Consequently, the wisdom about the future is the same as about the present, because it is immutable; that is, without ratiocination. If, however, it did not know the future things it was to produce, it would not know how to produce them, and it would produce them without rule, accidentally, by chance. In its production, it remains immutable; consequently, it produces without changing, at least as far as permitted by the model borne within it. Its action is therefore uniform, ever the same; otherwise, the soul might err. If its work was to contain differences, it does not derive these from itself, but from the (“seminal) reasons” which themselves proceed from the creating principle. Thus the created things depend from the series of reasons, and the creating principle has no need to hesitate, to deliberate, neither to support a painful work, as was thought by some philosophers who considered the task of regulating the universe wearisome. It would indeed be a tiresome task to handle a strange matter, that is, one which is unmanageable. But when a power by itself dominates (what it forms), it cannot have need of anything but itself and its counsel; that is, its wisdom, for in such a power the counsel is identical with wisdom. It therefore needs nothing for creation, since the wisdom it possesses is not a borrowed wisdom. It needs nothing (extraneous or) adventitious; consequently, neither reasoning nor memory, which faculties yield us nothing but what is adventitious. [Ennead IV,4 (28) 12]

If vision presupposes the union of the “light of the eye,” with the light interposed (between the eye) and the sense-object itself, the interposed medium is the light, and this medium is necessary, on this hypothesis. (On the theory of Aristotle) the colored substance produces a modification in the medium; but nothing here would hinder this modification from reaching the eye itself, even when there is no medium. For, in this case, the medium is necessarily modified before the eye is. (The Platonic philosophers) teach that vision operates by an effusion of the light of the eye. They have no need to postulate a medium, unless indeed they should fear that the ray of the eye should lose its way; but this ray is luminous, and the light travels in a straight line. (The Stoics) explain vision by the resistance experienced by the visual ray. They cannot do without a medium. (The Atomists and) the believers in “images” (such as Epicurus  ), insist that these images move in emptiness, thereby implying the existence of a free space to avoid hindering the images. Consequently as they will be hindered in a direct ratio to the existence of a medium, this opinion does not run counter to our own hypothesis (that there is no medium). [Ennead IV,5 (29) 2]

Instead of besmirching the reputation of divine men, the (Gnostics) should interpret the doctrines of the ancient sages in a friendly way, borrowing from them such as they are right in professing, as, for instance, the immortality of the soul, the existence of the intelligible world, and of the first Divinity (who is the Good), the necessity for the soul to flee from intercourse with the body, and the belief that separation of the soul from body is equivalent to a return from generation to “being.” They do well indeed if they borrow these ideas from Plato, for the purpose of developing them. They are even at liberty to express any opinion they please in diverging from his views; but their own doctrine should not be established in the minds of their followers by insults and sarcasms against Greek sages. They could only do so by demonstrating the propriety of their distinctive tenets, whenever they differ from those of the ancient philosophers, and by expounding their own tenets with a really philosophic reserve and equanimity. Even when they controvert a system they are still bound to consider nothing but the truth, without any attempt at self-glorification, either by attacking men whose teachings have long since been approved by worthy philosophers, or by claims of superiority to the latter. For that which the ancients taught on the subject of the intelligible world will always be considered as the best and wisest by all who do not permit themselves to be misled by the errors that to-day mislead so many. [Ennead II,9 (33) 6]

They also pride themselves on expelling diseases. If this were done through temperance, by a well regulated life, as do the philosophers, this claim might be respected. But they insist that diseases are demons, which they can expel by their words, and they boast of this in order to achieve reputation among the common people, that is always inclined to stand in awe of magic. They could not persuade rational individuals that diseases do not have natural causes, such as fatigue, satiety, lack of food, corruption, or some change depending on an interior or exterior principle. This is proved by the nature of diseases. Sometimes a disease is expelled by moving the bowels, or by the administration of some potion; diet and bleeding are also often resorted to. Is this because the demon is hungry, or the potion destroys him? When a person is healed on the spot, the demon either remains or departs. If he remain, how does his presence not hinder recovery? If he depart, why? What has happened to him? Was he fed by the disease? In this case, the disease was something different from the demon. If he enter without any cause for the disease, why is the individual into whose body he enters not always sick? If he enter into a body that contains already a natural cause of disease, how far does he contribute to the disease? The natural cause is sufficient to produce the disease. It would be ridiculous to suppose that the disease would have a cause, but that, as soon as this cause is active there would be a demon ready to come and assist it. [Ennead II,9 (33) 14]

It may be objected that having this unity in our soul depends on receiving from the exterior object a notion and an image, which is a conception furnished by this object. As the philosophers who profess this opinion do not differentiate the species of one and of number, and as they allow them no other hypostatic existence (than to be conceived by our soul), if they (practically do) allow them any sort of hypostatic existence, it will be very interesting to scrutinize the opinions of these. They then say that the notion or conception that we have of the one or of the number derives from the objects themselves, is a notion as much “a posteriori” as those of “that,” “something,” “crowd,” “festival,” “army,” or of “multitude”; for, just as the manifold is nothing without the multiple objects, nor a festival without the men gathered to celebrate the religious ceremony, thus “the One” is nothing without the one object, when we posit the one, conceiving it alone, having made an abstraction of everything else. The partisans of this opinion will cite many examples of the same kind, as the “right hand side,” “the upper part,” and their contraries. What reality indeed (to speak as they do), can the “right hand side” possess outside of a person who stands or sits here or there? The case is similar with “the upper side,” which refers to a certain part of the universe, and the “lower side” to another. Our first answer to this argument is that we will allow that there is a certain kind of existence in the things themselves of which we have just spoken; but that this mode of existence is not identical in all things, considered either in respect to each other, or each in respect to the One which is in all. Further, we intend to refute one by one these arguments that have been opposed to us. [Ennead VI,6 (34) 12]

The first objection might be, Where do you locate, or how do you classify these primary and veritable Numbers? All the philosophers (who follow Aristotle) classify numbers in the genus of quantity. It seems that we have above treated of quantity, and classified both discrete and continuous quantity among other “beings.” Here however we seem to say that these Numbers form part of the primary Essences, and add that there are, in addition, numbers that serve for enumerations. We are now asked how we make these statements agree, for they seem to give rise to several questions. Is the unity which is found among sense-beings a quantity? Or is unity a quantity when repeated, while, when considered alone and in itself, it is the principle of quantity, but not a quantity itself? Besides, if unity be the principle of quantity, does it share the nature of quantity, or has it a different nature? Here are a number of points we ought to expound. We shall answer these questions, and here is what we consider our starting-point. [Ennead VI,6 (34) 16]

As to the (Peripatetic) philosophers who assert that in a mixture only the qualities mingle, while the material extension of both bodies are only in juxtaposition, so long as the qualities proper to each of them are spread throughout the whole mass, they seem to establish the rightness of their opinion by attacking the doctrine which asserts that the two bodies mutually interpenetrate in mixture. (They object) that the molecules of both bodies will finally lose all magnitude by this continuous division which will leave no interval between the parts of either of the two bodies; for if the two bodies mutually interpenetrate each other in every part, their division must become continuous. Besides, the mixture often occupies an extent greater than each body taken separately, and as great as if mere juxtaposition had occurred. Now if two bodies mutually interpenetrate totally, the resulting mixture would occupy no more place than any one of them taken separately. The case where two bodies occupy no more space than a single one of them is by these philosophers explained by the air’s expulsion, which permits one of the bodies to penetrate into the pores of the other. Besides, in the case of the mixture of two bodies of unequal extent, how could the body of the smaller extend itself sufficiently to spread into all the parts of the greater? There are many other such reasons. [Ennead II,7 (37) 1]

We now pass to the opinions of (Zeno   and the other Stoic) philosophers, who assert that two bodies which make up a mixture mutually interpenetrate each other totally. They support this view by observing that when the bodies interpenetrate totally, they are divided without the occurrence of a continuous division (which would make their molecules lose their magnitude). Indeed, perspiration issues from the human body without its being divided or riddled with holes. To this it may be objected that nature may have endowed our body with a disposition to permit perspiration to issue easily. To this (the Stoics) answer that certain substances (like ivory), which when worked into thin sheets, admit, in all their parts, a liquid (oat-gruel) which passes from one surface to the other. As these substances are bodies, it is not easy to understand how one element can penetrate into another without separating its molecules. On the other hand, total division must imply mutual destruction (because their molecules would lose all magnitude whatever). When, however, two mingled bodies do not together occupy more space than either of them separately (the Stoics) seem forced to admit to their adversaries that this phenomenon is caused by the displacement of air. [Ennead II,7 (37) 1]

The ancient (philosophers), in enigmatical utterances, said that (the divinity) is above “being.” This must be understood to mean not only that He begets being, but because He is not dependent on “being” or on Himself. Not even His own “being” is to Him a principle; for He himself is the principle of “being.” Not for Himself did he make it; but, having made it, He left it outside of Himself, because He has no need of essence, since He himself made it. Thus, even though He exist, He does not produce that which is meant by that verb. [Ennead VI,8 (39) 19]

An admission that the heaven and the stars are perpetual in their individuality, while sublunary things are perpetual only in their form, would demand demonstration that a corporeal being can preserve its individuality as well as its form, even though the nature of bodies were a continual fluctuation. Such is the nature that the physical philosophers, and even Plato himself, attribute not only to sublunar bodies, but even to celestial ones. “For,” asks (Plato), “how could corporeal and visible objects subsist ever immutable and identical with themselves?” (Plato) therefore admits the opinion of Heraclitus that “the sun itself is in a state of perpetual becoming (or, growth).” [Ennead II,1 (40) 2]

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]

Let us begin by asking these philosophers whether the ten kinds apply equally to sense-(essences), and intelligible (essences), or whether they all apply to the sense-(essences), and some only to the intelligible (essences); for here there are no longer mutual relations. We must therefore inquire which of those ten kinds apply to intelligible essences, and see whether intelligible essences can be reduced to one single kind, that would also apply to sense-essences; and whether the word “being” can be applied simultaneously to intelligible and sense-entities, as a “homonymous” label. For if “being” be a homonym, there are several different kinds. If, however, it be a synonym (or, name of common qualities) it would be absurd that this word should bear the same meaning in the essences which possess the highest degree of existence, and in those which possess its lower degree; for the things among which it is possible to distinguish both primary and lower degrees could not belong to a common kind. But these (Aristotelian) philosophers do not, in their division, regard the (Platonic) intelligible entities. They therefore did not mean to classify all beings; they passed by those that possess the highest degree of existence. [Ennead VI,1 (42) 1]

Let us now pass to the (Stoic) philosophers who, recognizing four categories only, divide everything into “substances,” “qualities,” “modes,” and “relations;” and who, attributing to all (beings) something common, thus embrace them into a single genus. [Ennead VI,1 (42) 25]

Consequently, the Stoics, who reproach other philosophers (such as Plato) for making up beings out of non-beings, themselves make up a non-being out of a being. Indeed (in the system of the Stoics), the world, such as it is, is not being. It is certainly unreasonable to insist that matter, which is a subject, should nevertheless be “being,” and that bodies should not, any more than matter be “being”; but it is still more unreasonable to insist that the world is “being,” not by itself, but only by one of its parts (namely, matter); that the organism does not owe its being to the soul, but only to matter; and last, that the soul is only a modification of matter, and is something posterior to others. From whom then did matter receive animation? Whence comes the hypostatic existence of the soul? How does, matter receive form? For, since matter becomes the bodies, the soul is something else than matter. If the form came from something else than the soul, quality, on uniting to matter, would produce not the soul, but inanimate bodies. If something fashion matter and create the soul, the created soul would have to be preceded by a “creating soul.” [Ennead VI,1 (42) 27]

The Stoic theory raises numberless further objections; but we halt here lest we ourselves incur ridicule in combating so evident an absurdity. It suffices if we have demonstrated that these philosophers mistake non-essence for absolute essence; (putting the cart before the horse), they assign the First rank to what should occupy the last. The cause of their error is that they have chosen sensation as guide, and have consulted nothing else in determining both their principles, and consequences. Being persuaded that the bodies are genuine essences, and refusing to believe that they transform themselves into each other, they believed that what subsisted in them (in the midst of their changes) is the real essence, just as one might imagine that place, because it is indestructible, is more essential than (metabolic) bodies. Although in the system of the Stoics place remain unaltered, these philosophers should not have regarded as essence that which subsists in any manner soever; they should, first, have considered what are the characteristics necessarily possessed by essence, the presence of which (characteristics) makes it subsist without undergoing any alteration. Let us indeed suppose that a shadow would continuously subsist by following something which changes continuously; the shadow, however, would not be no more real than the object it follows. The sense-world, taken together with its multiple objects, is more of an essence than the things it contains, merely because it is their totality. Now if this subject, taken in its totality, be non-essence, how could it be a subject? The most surprising thing, however, is that the (Stoics), in all things following the testimony of sensation, should not also have affirmed that essence can be perceived by sensation; for, to matter, they do not attribute impenetrability, because it is a quality (and because, according to them, matter has no quality). If they insist that matter is perceived by intelligence, it could only be an irrational intelligence which would consider itself inferior to matter, and attribute to it, rather than to itself, the privilege of constituting genuine essence. Since in their system intelligence is non-essence, how could any credibility attach to that intelligence when it speaks of things superior to it, and with which it possesses no affinity? But we have said enough of the nature of these subjects, elsewhere. [Ennead VI,1 (42) 28]

As to the philosophers (Plato, for instance), who have taught other opinions about essences and their principles, considered as finite or infinite, corporeal or incorporeal, or both simultaneously corporeal or incorporeal, we will examine each of these opinions separately, considering also the historic objections of the ancient (philosophers). [Ennead VI,1 (42) 31]

If it were our opinion that essence was one, we would not need to study whether there was one single genus for all things, whether all genera could not be reduced to a single one; whether there were principles; whether the genera were at the same time principles; or whether all principles are genera, without saying conversely that all genera are principles; or, if we must distinguish between them, say that some principles are simultaneously genera, or some genera are principles, or, finally, whether all principles be genera without the genera being principles, and conversely. But, since we do not acknowledge that essence is one, the reasons for which were advanced by Plato and other philosophers, we find ourselves forced to treat all these questions, and first to explain why we recognize genera of essences, and what number we decide on. [Ennead VI,2 (43) 1]

Matter is something common which is found in all things; nevertheless it does not form a genus because it does not admit of any differences, unless its differences consist in appearing in different forms; as, here, fire, and there, air. Philosophers who consider that matter is a genus base this opinion on the fact that matter is common to all the things in which it exists, or that it stands in the relation of the whole to the parts of particular objects (or, “matters”). In this case, however, the term “genus” would be used in a sense differing from the one it bears usually. It would then be no more than an only or single element, if we admit that an element can be a genus. If, conceiving that matter is united to matter, or exists within it, we add form to matter, matter would thereby be differentiated from the other forms, but it will not comprehend every being-like form. Were we to call the generating principle of being “form,” and were we to call the reason which constitutes the form “being-like reason,” we shall not yet have clearly defined the nature of “being.” Finally, if we give the name of “being” only to the combination of matter and form, the result will be that neither of these two (matter or form taken separately) will themselves be “being.” If, however, we were to assert that not only their combination, but also each of them separately were “being,” we then would be faced with the problem of what is common to all three. [Ennead VI,3 (44) 3]

We have also studied relation, defining it as a habit, a “manner of being” of one thing in respect of another, which results from the co-operation of two things; we have explained that, when a habit of being constitutes a reference, this thing is something relative, not so much as it is being, but as far as it is a part of this being, as are the hand, the head, the cause, the principle, or the element. The relatives might be divided according to the scheme of the ancient (philosophers), by saying that some of them are efficient causes, while others are measures, that the former distinguish themselves by their resemblances and differences, while the latter consist in excess or in lack. [Ennead VI,3 (44) 28]

When saying that eternity and time differ, that eternity refers to perpetual existence, and time to what “becomes” (this visible world), we are speaking off-hand, spontaneously, intuitionally, and common language supports these forms of expression. When however we try to define our conceptions thereof in greater detail, we become embarrassed; the different opinions of ancient philosophers, and often even the same opinions, are interpreted differently. We however shall limit ourselves to an examination of these opinions, and we believe that we can fulfil our task of answering all questions by explaining the teachings of the ancient philosophers, without starting any minute disquisition of our own. We do indeed insist that some of these ancient philosophers, these blessed men have achieved the truth. It remains only to decide which of them have done so, and how we ourselves can grasp their thought. [Ennead III,7 (45) 1]

How shall we define the aeon (or, eternity)? Shall we say that it is the intelligible “being” (or, nature) itself, just as we might say that time is the heaven and the universe, as has been done, it seems, by certain (Pythagorean) philosophers? Indeed, as we conceive and judge that the aeon (eternity) is something very venerable, we assert the same of intelligible “being,” and yet it is not easy to decide which of the two should occupy the first rank; as, on the other hand, the principle which is superior to them (the One) could not be thus described, it would seem that we would have the right to identify intelligible “being” (or, nature), and the aeon (or, eternity), so much the more as the intelligible world and the aeon (age, or eternity), comprise the same things. Nevertheless, were we to place one of these principles within the other, we would posit intelligible nature (“being”) within the aeon (age, or eternity). Likewise, when we say that an intelligible entity is eternal, as (Plato) does: “the nature of the model is eternal,” we are thereby implying that the aeon (age or eternity) is something distinct from intelligible nature (“being”), though referring thereto, as attribute or presence. The mere fact that both the aeon (eternity) and intelligible nature (“being”), are both venerable does not imply their identity; the venerableness of the one may be no more than derivative from that of the other. The argument that both comprise the same entities would still permit intelligible nature (“being”) to contain all the entities it contains as parts, while the aeon (or age, or eternity) might contain them as wholes, without any distinctions as parts; it contains them, in this respect, that they are called eternal on its account. [Ennead III,7 (45) 2]

As this nature that is eternal and radiant with beauty refers to the One, issues from Him, and returns to Him, as it never swerves from Him, ever dwelling around Him and in Him, and lives according to Him, Plato was quite right in saying not casually, but with great profundity of thought, that “eternity is immutable in unity.” Thereby Plato not only reduces the eternity to the unity that it is in itself, but also relates the life of existence to the One itself. This life is what we seek; its permanence is eternity. Indeed that which remains in that manner, and which remains the same thing, that is, the actualization of that life which remains turned towards, and united with the One, that whose existence and life are not deceptive, that truly is eternity. (For intelligible or) true existence is to have no time when it does not exist, no time when it exists in a different manner; it is therefore to exist in an immutable manner without any diversity, without being first in one, and then in another state. To conceive of (existence), therefore, we must neither imagine intervals in its existence, nor suppose that it develops or acquires, nor believe that it contains any succession; consequently we could neither distinguish within it, or assert within it either before or after. If it contain neither “before” nor “after,” if the truest thing that can be affirmed of it be that it is, if it exist as “being” and life, here again is eternity revealed. When we say that existence exists always, and that there is not one time in which it is, and another in which it is not, we speak thus only for the sake of greater clearness; for when we use the word “always,” we do not take it in an absolute sense; but if we use it to show that existence is incorruptible, it might well mislead the mind in leading it to issue out from the unity (characteristic of eternity) to make it run through the manifold (which is foreign to eternity). “Always” further indicates that existence is never defective. It might perhaps be better to say simply “existence.” But though the word “existence” suffices to designate “being,” as several philosophers have confused “being” with generation, it was necessary to clear up the meaning of existence by adding the term “always.” Indeed, though we are referring only to one and the same thing by “existence” and “existing always,” just as when we say “philosopher,” and “the true philosopher,” nevertheless, as there are false philosophers, it has been necessary to add to the term “philosophers” the adjective “true.” Likewise, it has been necessary to add the term “always” to that of “existing,” and that of “existing” to that of “always;” that is the derivation of the expression “existing always,” and consequently (by contraction), “aion,” or, eternity. Therefore the idea “always” must be united to that of “existing,” so as to designate the “real being.” [Ennead III,7 (45) 6]

If those blessed ancient philosophers had not already uttered their views about time, we would only need to add to the idea of eternity what we have to say of the idea of time, and to set forth our opinion on the subject, trying to make it correspond with the already expressed notion of eternity. But we now must examine the most reasonable opinions that have been advanced about time, and observe how far our own opinion may conform thereto. [Ennead III,7 (45) 7]

The revolution of the universal Sphere leads us therefore to the recognition of time, within which it occurs. Not only is time that in which (all things “become,” that is, grow), but time has to be what it is even before all things, being that within which everything moves, or rests with order and uniformity. This is discovered and manifested to our intelligence, but not produced by regular movement and rest, especially by movement. Better than rest, indeed, does movement lead us to a conception of time, and it is either to appreciate the duration of movement than that of rest. That is what led philosophers to define time as the measure “of” movement, instead of saying, what probably lay within their intention, that time is measured “by” movement. Above all, we must not consider that definition as adequate, adding to it that which the measured entity is in itself, not limiting ourselves to express what applies to it only incidentally. Neither did we ever discern that such was their meaning, and we were unable to understand their teachings as they evidently posited the measure in the measured entity. No doubt that which hindered us from understanding them was that they were addressing their teachings to learned (thinkers), or well prepared listeners, and therefore, in their writings, they failed to explain the nature of time considered in itself, whether it be measure or something measured. [Ennead III,7 (45) 13]

There is a greater chance of being right in the opinion that happiness consists in the reasonable life, instead of mere life, even though united to sensation. Still even this theory must explain why happiness should be the privilege of the reasonable animal. Should we add to the idea of an animal the quality of being reasonable, because reason is more sagacious, more skilful in discovering, and in procuring the objects necessary to satisfy the first needs of nature? Would you esteem reason just as highly if it were incapable of discovering, or procuring these objects? If we value reason only for the objects it aids us in getting, happiness might very well belong to the very irrational beings, if they are, without reason, able to procure themselves the things necessary to the satisfaction of the first needs of their nature. In this case, reason will be nothing more than an instrument. It will not be worth seeking out for itself, and its perfection, in which virtue has been shown to consist, will be of little importance. The opposite theory would be that reason does not owe its value to its ability to procure for us objects necessary to the satisfaction of the first needs of nature, but that it deserves to be sought out for itself. But even here we would have to explain its function, its nature, and set forth how it becomes perfect. If it were to be improvable, it must not be defined as the contemplation of sense-objects, for its perfection and essence (being) consist in a different (and higher) function. It is not among the first needs of nature, nor among the objects necessary to the satisfaction of its needs; it has nothing to do with them, being far superior. Otherwise, these philosophers would be hard pressed to explain its value. Until they discover some nature far superior to the class of objects with which they at present remain, they will have to remain where it suits them to be, ignorant of what good living is, and both how to reach that goal, and to what beings it is possible. [Ennead I,4 (46) 2]

Dismissing these theories, we return to our own definition of happiness. We do not necessarily make life synonymous with happiness by attributing happiness to a living being. Otherwise, we would be implying that all living beings can achieve it, and we would be admitting to real complete enjoyment thereof all those who possessed that union and identity which all living beings are naturally capable of possessing. Finally, it would be difficult to grant this privilege to the reasonable being, while refusing it to the brute; for both equally possess life. They should, therefore, be capable of achieving happiness — for, on this hypothesis, happiness could be no more than a kind of life. Consequently, the philosophers who make it consist in the rational life, not in the life common to all beings, do not perceive that they implicitly suppose that happiness is something different from life. They are then obliged to say that happiness resides in a pure quality, in the rational faculty. But the subject (to which they should refer happiness) is the rational life, since happiness can belong only to the totality (of life joined to reason). They therefore, really limit the life they speak of to a certain kind of life; not that they have the right to consider these two kinds of life (life in general, and rational life) as being ranked alike, as both members of a single division would be, but another kind of distinction might be established between them, such as when we say that one thing is prior, and the other posterior. Since “life” may be understood in different senses, and as it possesses different degrees, and since by mere verbal similarity life may be equally predicated of plants and of irrational animals, and since its differences consist in being more or less complete, analogy demands a similar treatment of “living well.” If, by its life, a being be the image of some other being, by its happiness it will also be the image of the happiness of this other being. If happiness be the privilege of complete life, the being that possesses a complete life will also alone possess happiness; for it possesses what is best since, in the order of these existences, the best is possession of the essence (being) and perfection of life. Consequently, the Good is not anything incidental, for no subject could owe its good to a quality that would be derived from elsewhere. What indeed could be added to complete life, to render it excellent? [Ennead I,4 (46) 3]

Is Love a divinity, a guardian, or a passion of the human soul? Or is it all three under different points of view? In this case, what is it under each of these points of view? These are the questions we are to consider, consulting the opinions of men, but chiefly those of the philosophers. The divine Plato, who has written much about love, here deserves particular attention. He says that it is not only a passion capable of being born in souls, but he calls it also a guardian, and he gives many details about its birth and parents. [Ennead III,5 (50) 1]

How do Guardians participate in matter, and of what matter are they formed? This their matter is not corporeal, otherwise they would be animals with sensation. In fact, whether they have aerial or fire-like bodies, they must have had a nature primitively different (from pure Intelligence) to have ultimately united each with his own body, for that which is entirely pure could not have immediately united with a body, although many philosophers think that the being of every Guardian, as guardian, is united to an air-like or fire-like body. But why is the being of every Guardian mingled with a body, while the being of every deity is pure, unless in the first case there be a cause which produces the mingling (with matter)? This cause must be the existence of an intelligible matter, so that whatever participates in it might, by its means, come to unite with sense-matter. [Ennead III,5 (50) 6]