(i.) (Souls cannot, as do bodies, lose or gain parts, ever remaining identical.) The body has the faculty of making its organs grow within a definite time and in fixed proportions. From where could the soul derive them? Its function is to grow, not to cause growth, unless the principle of growth be comprehended within its material mass. If the soul that makes the body grow was herself a body, she should, on uniting with molecules of a nature similar to hers, develop a growth proportional to that of the organs. In this case, the molecules that will come to add themselves to the soul will be either animate or inanimate; if they are animate, how could they have become such, and from whom will they have received that characteristic? If they are not animate, how will they become such, and how will agreement between them and the first soul arise? How will they form but a single unity with her, and how will they agree with her? Will they not constitute a soul that will remain foreign to the former, who will not possess her requirements of knowledge? This aggregation of molecules that would thus be called soul will resemble the aggregation of molecules that form our body. She would lose parts, she would acquire new ones; she will not be identical. But if we had a soul that was not identical, memory and self-consciousness of our own faculties would be impossible. [Ennead IV,7 (2) 5]
The subject that perceives a sense-object must itself be single, and grasp this object in its totality, by one and the same power. This happens when by several organs we perceive several qualities of a single object, or when, by a single organ, we embrace a single complex object in its totality, as, for instance, a face. It is not one principle that sees the face, and another one that sees the eyes; it is the “same principle” which embraces everything at once. Doubtless we do receive a sense-impression by the eyes, and another by the ears; but both of them must end in some single principle. How, indeed, could any decision be reached about the difference of sense-impressions unless they all converged toward the same principle? The latter is like a centre, and the individual sensations are like radii which from the circumference radiate towards the centre of a circle. This central principle is essentially single. If it was divisible, and if sense-impressions were directed towards two points at a distance from each other, such as the extremities of the same line, they would either still converge towards one and the same point, as, for instance, the middle (of the line), or one part would feel one thing, and another something else. It would be absolutely as if I felt one thing, and you felt another, when placed in the presence of one and the same thing (as thought Aristotle, de Anima). Facts, therefore, demonstrate that sensations centre in one and the same principle; as visible images are centred in the pupil of the eye; otherwise how could we, through the pupil, see the greatest objects? So much the more, therefore, must the sensations that centre in the (Stoic) “directing principle” resemble indivisible intuitions and be perceived by an indivisible principle. If the latter possessed extension, it could, like the sense-object, be divided; each of its parts would thus perceive one of the parts of the sense-object, and nothing within us would grasp the object in its totality. The subject that perceives must then be entirely one; otherwise, how could it be divided? In that case it could not be made to coincide with the sense-object, as two equal figures superimposed on each other, because the directing principle does not have an extension equal to that of the sense-object. How then will we carry out the division? Must the subject that feels contain as many parts as there are in the sense-object? Will each part of the soul, in its turn, feel by its own parts, or will (we decide that) the parts of parts will not feel? Neither is that likely. If, on the other hand, each part feels the entire object, and if each magnitude is divisible to infinity, the result is that, for a single object, there will be an infinity of sensations in each part of the soul; and, so much the more, an infinity of images in the principle that directs us. (This, however, is the opposite of the actual state of affairs.) [Ennead IV,7 (2) 6]
Thus Intelligence actually constitutes all beings; it contains them all, but not locally; it contains them as it possesses itself; it is identical with them. All entities are simultaneously contained within it, and in it remain distinct, as many kinds of knowledge may exist within the soul without their number causing any confusion; each of them appears when needed, without involving the others. If in the soul each thought be an actualization independent of other thoughts, so much the more must Intelligence be all things simultaneously, with this restriction, however, that each of them is a special power. Considered in its universality, Intelligence contains all entities as the genus contains all species, as the whole contains all parts. Even the seminal powers bear the impress of this universality. Each one, considered in its totality, is a centre which contains all the parts of the organism in an undivided condition; nevertheless in it the reason of the eyes differs from that of the hands, and this diversity is manifested by that of the organs begotten (therefrom). 129 Each of the powers of the seed, therefore, is the total unity of the seminal reason when this power is united to the others which are implied therein. What in the seed is corporeal contains matter, as, for instance, humidity; but the seminal reason is the entire form; it is identical with the generative power, a power which itself is the image of a superior power of the soul. This generative power contained in seeds is usually called “nature.” Proceeding from the superior powers as light radiates from the fire, it tames and fashions matter, imparting thereto the seminal reason without pushing it, or moving it as by levers. [Ennead V,9 (5) 6]
Is “essence” something different from “being”? Does essence indicate an abstraction of the other (four categories), and is being, on the contrary, essence with the other (four categories), motion and rest, identity and difference? Are these the elements of being? Yes: “being” is the totality of these things, of which one is essence, the other is motion, and so forth. Motion, therefore, is accidental essence. Is it also accidental “being?” Or is it being completely? Motion is being, because all intelligible things are beings. But why is not each of the sense-things a being? The reason is, that on high all things form only a single group of totality, while here below they are distinct one from another because they are images that have been distinguished. Likewise, in a seminal (reason), all things are together, and each of them is all the others; the hand is not distinct from the head; while, on the contrary, in a body all the organs are separate, because they are images instead of being genuine beings. [Ennead II,6 (17) 1]
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]
Intelligible entities, indeed, though they form a manifold, nevertheless, form an unity. On the other hand, though they form an unity, yet by virtue of their infinite nature they also form a manifold. They are the multitude in unity, and unity in multitude; they all subsist together. They direct their actualization towards the whole, with the whole, and it is still with the whole, that they apply themselves to the part. The part receives within itself the first action, as if it were that of only a part; but, nevertheless, it is the whole that acts. It is as if a Man-in-himself, on descending into a certain man, became this man without, however, ceasing being the Man-in-himself. The material man, proceeding from the ideal Man, who is single, has produced a multitude of men, who are the same because one and the same thing has impressed its seal on a multitude. Thus the Man-in-himself, and every intelligible entity in itself, and then the whole entire universal Essence is not in the multitude, but the multitude is in the universal Essence, or rather, refers to it; for if whiteness be everywhere present in the body, it is not in the same manner as the soul of an individual is present and identical in all the organs. It is in this latter manner that the essence is present everywhere. [Ennead VI,5 (23) 6]
But how can the soul’s irascible-part be at one time courageous, and at the other cowardly? When it is cowardly, it does not consider reason, or considers reason as having already become evil; or because the deficiency of its instruments, that is, the lack of weakness of its organs, hinders it from acting, or feeling emotion, or being irritated. In the contrary condition it is courageous. In either case, the soul undergoes no alteration, nor is affected. [Ennead III,6 (26) 2]
Further, the soul’s appetite is intemperate when it alone is active; for then, in the absence of the principles that ought to command or direct her, it alone does everything. Besides, the rational part, whose function it is to see (by considering the notions it receives from intelligence), is occupied with something else, for it does not do everything simultaneously, being busy with some other action; it considers other than corporeal things, so far as it can. Perhaps also the virtue or vice of the appetite depend considerably on the good or evil condition of the organs; so that, in either case, nothing is added to the soul. [Ennead III,6 (26) 2]
If the universal Soul communicate herself to all individual animals, and if it be in this sense that each soul is a part of the universal Soul — for as soon as she would be divided, the universal Soul could not communicate herself to every part — the universal must be entire everywhere, and she must simultaneously be one and the same in different beings. Now this hypothesis no longer permits us to distinguish on one hand the universal Soul, and on the other the parts of this soul, so much the more as these parts have the same power (as the universal Soul); for even for organs whose functions are different, as the eyes and ears, it will not be claimed that there is one part of the soul in the eyes, and another in the ears — such a division would suit only things that have no relation with the soul. We should insist that it is the same part of the soul which animates these two different organs, exercising in each of them a different faculty. Indeed, all the powers of the soul are present in these two senses (of sight and hearing), and the only cause of the difference of their perceptions is the differences of the organs. Nevertheless all perceptions belong to forms (that is, to faculties of the soul), and reduce to a form (the soul) which can become all things (?). This is further proved by the fact that the impressions are forced to come and centre in an only centre. Doubtless the organs by means of which we perceive cannot make us perceive all things, and consequently the impressions differ with the organs. Nevertheless the judgment of these impressions belongs to one and the same principle, which resembles a judge attentive to the words and acts submitted to his consideration. We have, however, said above that it is one and the same principle which produces acts belonging to different functions (as are sight and hearing). If these functions be like the senses, it is not possible that each of them should think; for the universal alone would be capable of this. If thought be a special independent function, every intelligence subsists by itself. Further, when the soul is reasonable, and when she is so in a way such as to be called reasonable in her entirety, that which is called a part conforms to the whole, and consequently is not a part of the whole. [Ennead IV,3 (27) 3]
What is called inevitable necessity and divine justice consists in the sway of nature which causes each soul to proceed in an orderly manner into the bodily image which has become the object of her affection, and of her predominating disposition. Consequently the soul, by her form, entirely approaches the object towards which her interior disposition bears her. Thus she is led and introduced where she is to go; not that she is forced to descend at any particular moment into any particular body; but, at a fixed moment, she descends as it were spontaneously where she ought to enter. Each (soul) has her own hour. When this hour arrives, the soul descends as if a herald was calling her, and she penetrates into the body prepared to receive her, as if she had been mastered and set in motion by forces and powerful attractions exerted by magic. Similarly in an animal, nature administers all the organs, solves or begets everything in its own time, grows the beard or the horns, gives special inclinations and powers to the being, whenever they become necessary. Similarly, in plants, (nature) produces flowers or fruits at the proper season. The descent of souls into the bodies is neither voluntary nor forced; it is not voluntary, since it is not chosen or consented to by souls. It is not compulsory, in the sense that the latter obey only a natural impulsion, just as one might be led to marriage, or to the accomplishment of various honest actions, rather by instinct than by reasoning. Nevertheless, there is always something fatal for each soul. One accomplishes her destiny at some one moment; the other soul at some other moment. Likewise, the intelligence that is superior to the world also has something fatal in its existence, since itself has its own destiny, which is to dwell in the intelligible world, and to make its light radiate therefrom. Thus individuals come here below by virtue of the common law to which they are subjected. Each one, indeed, bears within himself this common law, a law which does not derive its power from outside, but which depends on the nature of those who are subject to it, because it is innate in them. Consequently all voluntarily carry out its decrees at the predestined time, because this law impels them to their goal; and because, deriving its force from those whom it commands, it presses and stimulates them and inspires them with the desire to go whither their interior vocation calls them. [Ennead IV,3 (27) 13]
By the mere fact that it feels by means of the entire body, every sense-power undergoes division. Since it is present everywhere, it may be said to be divided. But as, on the other hand, it manifests itself everywhere as a whole, it cannot really be considered as divided. We cannot go further than the statement that it becomes divisible in bodies. Some might object that it was divided only in the sense of touch. It is however also divided in the other senses, since it is always the same body that receives it, but only less so. The case is the same with the power of growth and nutrition; and if appetite have its seat in the liver, and anger in the heart, these appetites must be subject to the same conditions. Besides, it is possible that the body does not receive those appetites in a mixture, or that it receives them in some other manner, so that they result from some of the things that the body derives from the soul by participations. Reason and intelligence, however, are not communicated to the body because they stand in no need of any organs to fulfil their functions. On the contrary, they find in them only an obstacle to their operations. [Ennead IV,3 (27) 19]
Are the above-mentioned and other parts of the soul localized in the body, or are some localized, and others not? This must be considered, because if none of the parts of the soul are localized, and if we assert that they are nowhere either in or out of the body, the latter will remain inanimate, and we will not be able to explain the manner of the operations occurring by help of the organs. If, on the other hand, we assign a location in the body to certain parts of the soul, without localizing other parts, the unlocalized parts will seem not to be within us, and consequently not the whole of our soul will seem to be in the body. [Ennead IV,3 (27) 20]
Since, for the body, being animated amounts to being penetrated by the light shed by the soul, every part of the body participates therein in some particular manner. Each organ, according to its fitness, receives the power suitable to the function it fulfils. Thus we may say that the power of sight resides in the eyes; that of hearing in the ears; that of taste in the tongue; that of smell in the nose; that of touch in the whole body, since, for the latter sense, the whole body is the organ of the soul. Now as the instruments for touch are the first nerves, which also possess the power of moving the organism, as they are the seat of this power; as, besides, the nerves originate in the brain, in the brain has been localized the principle of sensation and appetite — in short, the principle of the whole organism; no doubt because it was thought that the power which uses the organs is present in that part of the body where are the origins of these organs. It would have been better to say that it is the action of the power that makes use of the organs that originates in the brain; for that part of the body from which starts the movement impressed on the organ had to serve somewhat as a foundation for the power of the workman, a power whose nature is in harmony with that of the organ (it sets in motion); or rather, this part of the body does not serve as foundation for this power, for this power is everywhere, but the principle of the action is in that part of the body in which is the very principle of that organ. [Ennead IV,3 (27) 23]
On the other hand, as the power of sensation and the power of appetite, which belong to the sensible and imaginative soul, are beneath reason, because they are related to what is inferior, while reason is above, the result was that the ancients localized reason in the highest part of the animal, in the head; not that reason is in the brain, but because reason is seated in the sense-power, by the intermediation of which, only, reason may be said to reside in the brain. The sense-power, surely, had to be attributed to the body, and, within the body, to the organs most capable of lending themselves to its action. Reason, which has no (direct) dealing with the body, had however to be in relation with the sense-power, which is a form of the soul, and can participate in reason. The sense-power, does, to a certain extent, judge; and the power of imagination has something intellectual. Last, the appetite, and the desire somehow connect with imagination and reason. Reason, therefore, is in the head, not as in a locality, but because it is in relation with the sense-power which resides in that organ, as has been shown above. [Ennead IV,3 (27) 23]
Doubtless we will have to acknowledge that there are affections which pass from the body into the soul; but there are also affections which belong exclusively to the soul, because the soul is a real being, with characteristic nature and activities. In this case, the soul must have desires, and recall them, remembering that they have, or have not been satisfied; because, by her nature, she does not form part of the things which are (as Heraclitus said) in a perpetual flow. Otherwise, we could not attribute to the soul coenesthesia (or, common feeling), conscience, reflection, or the intuition of herself. If she did not possess them by her nature, she would not acquire them by union with the body. Doubtless there are activities which the soul cannot carry out without the assistance of the organs; but she herself possesses the faculties (or “powers”) from which these activities are outgrowths. Besides, she, by herself, possesses other faculties, whose operations are derived from her alone. Among these is memory, whose exercise is only hindered by the body. Indeed, when the soul unites with the body, she forgets; when she separates from the body, and purifies herself, she often recovers memory. Since the soul possesses memory when she is alone, the body, with its changeable nature, that is ever subject to a perpetual flow, is a cause of forgetfulness, and not of memory; the body therefore is, for the soul, the stream of Lethe (or forgetfulness). To the soul alone, therefore, belongs memory. [Ennead IV,3 (27) 26]
That is why there is pleasure and pain. That is why grief is said to be a perception of dissolution, when the body is threatened with the loss of the image of the soul (of being disorganized by losing the irrational soul). That is why it is said that pleasure is a perception produced in the animal when the image of the soul reassumes its sway over the body. It is the body which undergoes passion; but it is the sense-potentiality of the soul which perceives the passion by its relation with the organs; it is she to which all the sensations ultimately report themselves. The body alone is injured and suffers; for example, when one member is cut, it is the mass of the body which is cut; the soul feels pain not merely as a mass, but as a living mass. It is likewise with a burn: the soul feels it, because the sense-potentiality as it were receives its reaction by its relations with the organs. The soul entire feels the passion produced in the body without however herself experiencing it. [Ennead IV,4 (28) 19]
Let us now examine to what beings sensation belongs, and whereby it operates. Let us see whether sensation can take place even without organs. Of what use to the earth could sensation be? For it does not serve the earth as means of knowledge; the knowledge which consists in wisdom suffices for the beings to whom sensation is of no use. This consideration might however be denied, for the knowledge of sense-objects offers, besides utility, some of the charms of the Muses. Such is, for example, the knowledge of the sun and the other stars, whose contemplation itself is agreeable. This problem will therefore demand solution. [Ennead IV,4 (28) 22]
We must therefore first investigate if the earth possess senses, to what animals sensation naturally belongs, and how sensation operates. It will be necessary to begin by discussing the doubtful points that we have indicated, and to examine in general if sensation can operate without organs, and if the senses have been given for utility, admitting even that they can procure some other advantage. [Ennead IV,4 (28) 22]
The soul and the exterior object do not therefore suffice (to explain sensation); for there would be nothing that suffers. There must therefore be a third term that suffers, that is, which receives the sense-form, or, shape. This third term must “sympathize,” or, share the passion of the exterior object, it must also experience the same passion, and it must be of the same matter; and, on the other hand, its passion must be known by another principle; last, passion must keep something of the object which produces it, without however being identical with it. The organ which suffers must therefore be of a nature intermediary between the object which produces the passion and the soul, between the sensible and the intelligible, and thus play the part of a term intermediary between the two extremes, being receptive on one side, making announcements on the other, and becoming equally similar to both. The organ that is to become the instrument of knowledge must be identical neither with the subject that knows, nor with the object that is known. It must become similar to both of them; to the exterior object because it suffers, and to the cognizing soul because the passion which it experiences becomes a form. Speaking more accurately, the sensations operate by the organs. This results from the principle asserted above, that the soul isolated from the body can grasp nothing in the sense-world. As used here, the word “organ” either refers to the whole body, or to some part of the body fitted to fulfil some particular function; as in the case of touch or sight. Likewise, it is easy to see that tools of artisans play a part intermediary between the mind which judges, and the object which is judged; and that they serve to discover the properties of substances. For instance, a (foot) rule, which is equally conformed to the idea of straightness in the mind, and to the property of straightness in the wood, serves the artisan’s mind as intermediary to judge if the wood he works be straight. [Ennead IV,4 (28) 23]
We have just demonstrated that sensation belongs exclusively to an embodied soul, and that this implies organs. But we have nothing to do with the question whether the perceived object must be in contact with the organ, or whether the sensation can take place at a distance from the sense-object, by means of an intermediary; as the case of the fire which is located at a distance from our body, without the intermediary’s suffering in any manner. It happens again where, empty space serving as intermediary between the eye and the color, one may well ask whether, to see, it suffice to possess the potentiality proper to that organ. But it is sure that sensation is some activity of the soul in a body, or through a body. [Ennead IV,4 (28) 23]
Whether the senses were given us for the sake of utility must be examined as follows. If the soul were separated from the body, she would not feel; she feels only when united to a body; therefore she feels by and for the body. It is from the soul’s intimacy with the body that sensation results, either because all passions, when keen enough, reach the soul; or whether the senses were made for us to take care that no object approaches too near us, or exercises on our organs an action strong enough to destroy them. If so, the senses were given us for the sake of utility. Even if the senses do serve to acquire knowledge and information, they would be of no use to a being who possesses knowledge, but only to one who needs to learn he has the misfortune of being ignorant, or who needs to remember, because he is subject to forgetfulness. They are therefore not found in the being who has no need to learn, and who does not forget. [Ennead IV,4 (28) 24]
It would seem that in order to see, and in general to feel, mere possession of the necessary organs by the soul, is not enough; the soul must also be disposed to direct her attention to things of sense. But it is usual for the (universal) Soul to be ever applied to the contemplation of intelligible things; and mere possession of the faculty of sensation would not necessarily imply its exercise, because it would be entirely devoted to objects of a higher nature. So when we apply ourselves to the contemplation of intelligible things, we notice neither the sensation of sight, nor those of other senses; and, in general, the attention that we give to one thing hinders us from seeing the others. Even among us human beings, to wish to perceive one of our members through another, as, for instance, looking at ourselves, is both superfluous and vain, unless this has some very good purpose. Moreover, it is a characteristic of an imperfect and fallible being to contemplate some external thing, merely because it is beautiful. It may therefore well be said that if to feel, hear and taste are distractions of a soul that attaches herself to outer objects, the sun and the other stars cannot see or hear, except accidentally. It would however not be unreasonable to admit that they turn towards us through the exercise of the senses of sight or hearing. Now, if they turn towards us, they must be mindful of human affairs. It would be absurd that they should not remember the men to whom they do so much good; how indeed would they do good, if they had no memory? [Ennead IV,4 (28) 25]
We must however not insist on her organs being the same as ours. Not even in all animals are the senses similar. Thus, for instance, not all have similar ears, and even those who have no ears at all nevertheless will perceive sounds. How could the earth see, if light be necessary for her vision? Nor must we claim for her the necessity of having eyes. We have already above granted that she possesses the vegetative power; we should therefore thence draw the deduction that this power is primitively by its essence a sort of spirit. What objection then could there be to assume that this spirit might be resplendent and transparent? Arguing merely from its nature of being a spirit, we should (potentially at least) conclude that it is transparent; and that it is actually transparent because it is illuminated by the celestial sphere. It is therefore neither impossible nor incredible that the soul of the earth should possess sight. Besides, we must remember that this soul is not that of a vile body, and that consequently, she must be a goddess. In any case, this soul must be eternally good. [Ennead IV,4 (28) 26]
The vegetative power present in the whole body communicates to every part thereof a trace of the soul. It is therefore to the entire body that we must refer suffering, pleasure, and the desire of food. Though nothing definite is ascertained about the seat of sexual desire, let us grant that their seat is in the organs destined to its satisfaction. Further, be it granted that the liver is the seat of the soul’s faculty of desire, because that organ is particularly the theatre of the activities of the vegetative power which impresses a trace of the soul on the body; and further, because it is from the liver that the action it exercises starts. [Ennead IV,4 (28) 28]
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]
This discussion teaches us that each one of the beings contained in the universe contributes to the purpose of the universe by its “actions” and “passions” according to its nature and dispositions, as, in an organism, each organ contributes to the final purpose of the entire body, by fulfilling the function assigned to it by its nature and constitution. From this each organ derives its place and role, and besides communicates something else to the other organs, and from them receives all that its nature would allow. Somehow, all the organs feel what is going on in the others, and if each of them became an organism, it would be quite ready to fulfil the function of an organism, which function differs from that of being merely an organ. [Ennead IV,4 (28) 45]
The parts of each small organism undergo changes and sympathetic affections which are not much felt, because these parts are not individual organisms (and they exist only for some time, and in some kinds of organisms). But in the universal organism, where the parts are separated by so great distances, where each one follows its own inclinations, where there is a multitude of different animals, the movements and change of place must be more considerable. Thus the sun, the moon and the other stars are seen successively to occupy different places, and to revolve regularly. It is not unreasonable therefore to suppose that souls would change location, as they change character, and that they would dwell in a place suitable to their dispositions. They would thus contribute to the order of the universe by occupying some, a place analogous to the head in the human body; and others, a place analogous to the human feet; for the universe admits of place for all degrees of perfection. When a soul does not choose the best (actions), and yet does not attach herself to what is worst, she would naturally pass into some other place, which is indeed pure, but yet proportioned to the mediocrity she has chosen. As to the punishments, they resemble the remedies applied by physicians to sickly organs. On some the physician lays certain substances; in some he makes incisions, or he changes the condition of some others, to reestablish the health of the whole system, by giving to each organ the special treatment suitable to it. Likewise, the health of the universe demands that the one (soul) be changed; that another be taken away from the locality where she languishes, and be located where she would recover from the disease. [Ennead IV,4 (28) 45]
Above we suggested the question whether it be possible to see without some medium such as the air or a diaphanous body; we shall now try to consider it. It has already been asserted that in general the soul cannot see or feel without the intermediation of some body; for, when completely separated from the body (the soul dwells in the intelligible world). But, as touch consists of perception, not indeed of intelligible entities, but only of sense-objects, the soul cannot see or feel without the intermediation of some body; for when completely separated from some body, the soul dwells in the intelligible world. But, as touch consists of perception, not indeed of intelligible entities, but only of sense-object, the soul in order to come in contact with these sense-objects, must enter into cognitive or affective relation with them by the means of intermediaries which must possess an analogous nature; and that is why the knowledge of bodies must be acquired by the means of corporeal organs. Through these organs which are so interrelated as to form a sort of unity, the soul approaches sense-objects in a manner such as to establish effective communion. That contact between the organ and the cognized object must be established is evident enough for tangible objects, but is doubtful for visible objects. Whether contact be necessary for hearing is a question we shall have to discuss later. Here we shall first discuss whether sight demand a medium between the eye and color. [Ennead IV,5 (29) 1]
Every organism is coherent (that is, is sympathetic with itself). In the case of a single organism, our demonstration suffices, and all things will experience common affections so far as they constitute parts of the single organism. The plea that a body exterior to the world could be felt because of its resemblance is ill-founded because perception is characteristic of an organism and because it is the organism that possesses perception. For its organ resembles (the perceived object); thus sensation would be the perception presented to the soul by means of organs similar to the perceived objects. If then the organism feel not only its contents, but also objects resembling them, it will perceive these things by virtue of its organic nature; and these things will be perceived not because they are contents thereof, but by virtue of their resemblance thereto. It seems rather that perceived objects must be perceived in the measure of their resemblance, because the soul has familiarized herself with them, and has assimilated them to herself. If then the soul which has assimilated these objects to herself differ from them, the things which were supposed to have become assimilated to her will remain entirely foreign to her. The absurdity of this consequence shows us that there is a flaw in the hypothesis; for it affirms simultaneously that the soul exists, and does not exist, that the things are both conformable and different, similar and dissimilar. Since then this hypothesis implies contradictories, it is not admissible; for it supposes that the soul exists in this world, as a result of the world, both being and not being universal, both being and not being different, both being and not being perfect. The above hypothesis must therefore be abandoned; and since it implies a contradiction, no reasonable consequence could be deduced therefrom. [Ennead IV,5 (29) 8]
When the (higher) Divinity, or (some lower) divinity, sent souls down into generation, He gave to the face of man eyes suitable to enlighten him, and placed in the body the other organs suited to the senses, foreseeing that (a living organism) would be able to preserve itself only on condition of seeing, hearing and touching contiguous objects, to enable it to select some, and to avoid others. [Ennead VI,7 (38) 1]
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]
What is the origin of the cause of what is a form, which is characteristic of Intelligence? It is not from Intelligence, because the form is not separable from Intelligence, combining with it to form one single and same thing. If then Intelligence possess the forms in their fulness, this fulness of forms implies that they contain their cause. Intelligence contains the cause of each of the forms it contains. It consists of all these forms taken together, or separately. None of them needs discovery of the cause of its production, for simultaneously with its production, it has contained the cause of its hypostatic existence. As it was not produced by chance, it contains all that belongs to its cause; consequently, it also possesses the whole perfection of its cause. Sense-things which participate in form do not only receive their nature from it, but also the cause of this nature. If all the things of which this universe is composed be intimately concatenated; and if the universe, containing all things, also contain the cause of each of them; if its relation with them be the same as that of the body with its organs, which do not mature successively, but which, towards each other, are mutually related as cause and effect; so much the more, in the intelligible world, must things have their “causes,” all of them in general in respect to the totality, and each independently in respect to itself. [Ennead VI,7 (38) 2]
The essence must be simultaneously one and manifold. Now it cannot be manifold if all the things that exist within it be equal; it would then be an absolute unity. Since therefore (essence) forms a composite unity, it must be constituted by things which bear to each other specific differences, such that its unity shall allow the existence of particular things, such as forms and reasons (beings). The forms, such as those of man, must contain all the differences that are essential to them. Though there be a unity in all these forms, there are also things more or less delicate (or highly organized), such as the eye or the finger. All these organs, however, are implied in the unity of the animal, and they are inferior only relatively to the totality. It was better that things should be such. Reason (the essence of the animal) is animal, and besides, is something different from the animal. Virtue also bears a general character, and an individual one. The totality (of the intelligible world) is beautiful, because what is common (to all beings), does not offer any differences. [Ennead VI,7 (38) 10]
By intellectual examples we can understand the nature of Intelligence, and see that it could not be a unity which does not admit any kind of difference. As example, consider the (“seminal) reason” of a plant, and that of an animal. If it be only a unity, without any kind of variety, it is not even a “reason,” and what is born will be no more than matter. This “reason” must therefore contain all the organs; and, while embracing all matter, it must not leave any part of it to remain identical with any other. For instance, the face does not form a single mass; it contains the nose and the eyes. Nor is even the nose something simple; it contains different parts whose variety make of it an organ; if it were reduced to a state of absolute simplicity, it would be no more than a mass. Thus Intelligence contains the infinite, because it is simultaneously one and manifold; not indeed like a house, but as is a (“seminal) reason” which is manifold interiorly. It contains within, therefore, a sort of figure (or scheme) or even a picture, on which are interiorly drawn or inscribed its powers and thoughts; their division does not take place exteriorly, for it is entirely interior. Thus the universal living Organism embraces other living beings, within which may be discovered still smaller living beings, and still smaller powers, and so on till we arrive at the “atomic form.” All these forms are distinguished from each other by their division, without ever having been confounded together, though they all occur in the constitution of a single unity. Thus exists in the intelligible world that union (by Empedocles) called “friendship”; but such union is very different from that which exists in the sense-world. In fact, the latter is only the image of the first, because it is formed of completely disparate elements. Veritable union however consists in forming but a single (thing) without admitting of any separation between (elements). Here below, however, objects are separated from each other. [Ennead VI,7 (38) 14]
If we be right in attributing immortality to the heaven, we shall have to extend that conception to the stars it contains; for unless its parts endured, neither could the heaven. However, the things beneath the heaven do not form part of it. The region which constitutes the heaven does not extend further down than the moon. As to us, having our organs formed by the (vegetative) soul which was given us by the celestial divinities (the stars), and even the heaven itself, we are united to the body by that soul. Indeed, the other soul (the reasonable soul), which constitutes our person, our “me,” is not the cause of our being, but of our well-being (which consists in our intellectual life). She comes to join our body when it is already formed (by the vegetative soul), and contributes to our being only by one part, by giving us reason (in making of us reasonable beings, and men). [Ennead II,1 (40) 5]
Thus the arts which relate to the body, which make use of the organs, and which consult the senses, are really dispositions of the soul, but only of the soul as applied to corporeal objects; and consequently, they should be classified among sense-qualities. Here also belong practical virtues, such as are implied by civil duties, and which, instead of raising the soul to intelligible entities, fructify in the actions of political life, and refer to them, not as a necessity of our condition, but as an occupation preferable to everything else. Among these qualities we shall have to classify the beauty contained in the (“seminal) reason,” and, so much the more, black and white. [Ennead VI,3 (44) 16]
The reason that intelligence remains hidden is just because it is not felt; only by the means of this feeling can this activity be felt; but why should intelligence cease to act (merely because it was not felt)? On the other hand, why could the soul not have turned her activity towards intelligence before having felt or perceived it? Since (for intelligence) thinking and existence are identical, perception must have been preceded by some actualization. It seems impossible for perception to arise except when thought reflects upon itself, and when the principle whose activity constitutes the life of the soul, so to speak, turns backwards, and reflects, as the image of an object placed before a brilliant polished mirror reflects itself therein. Likewise, if the mirror be placed opposite the object, there is no more image; and if the mirror be withdrawn or badly adjusted, there is no more image, though the luminous object continue to act. Likewise, when that faculty of the soul which represents to us the images of discursive reason and of intelligence is in a suitable condition of calm, we get an intuition — that is, a somewhat sensual perception thereof — with the prior knowledge of the activity of the intelligence, and of discursive reason. When, however, this image is troubled by an agitation in the mutual harmony of the organs, the discursive reason, and the intelligence continue to act without any image, and the thought does not reflect in the imagination. Therefore we shall have to insist that thought is accompanied by an image without, nevertheless, being one itself. While we are awake, it often happens to us to perform praiseworthy things, to meditate and to act, without being conscious of these operations at the moment that we produce them. When for instance we read something, we are not necessarily self-conscious that we are reading, especially if our attention be fully centered on what we read. Neither is a brave man who is performing a courageous deed, self-conscious of his bravery. There are many other such cases. It would therefore seem that the consciousness of any deed weakens its energy, and that when the action is alone (without that consciousness) it is in a purer, livelier and more vital condition. When virtuous men are in that condition (of absence of self-consciousness), their life is more intense because it concentrates in itself instead of mingling with feeling. [Ennead I,4 (46) 10]
Man, and specially the virtuous man, is constituted not by the composite of soul and body, as is proved by the soul’s power to separate herself from the body, and to scorn what usually are called “goods.” It would be ridiculous to relate happiness to the animal part of man, since happiness consists in living well, and living well, being an actualization, belongs to the soul, exclusively. Not even does it extend to the entire soul, for happiness does not extend to that part of the soul concerned with growth, having nothing in common with the body, neither as to its size, nor its possible good condition. Nor does it depend on the perfection of the senses, because their development, as well as that of the organs, weights man down, and makes him earthy. Doing good will be made easier by establishing a sort of counter-weight, weakening the body, and taming its motions, so as to show how much the real man differs from the foreign things that (to speak as do the Stoics), surround him. However much the (earthy) common man enjoy beauty, greatness, wealth, command over other men, and earthly luxuries, he should not be envied for the deceptive pleasure he takes in all these advantages. To begin with, the wise man will probably not possess them; but if he do possess them, he will voluntarily diminish them, if he take due care of himself. By voluntary negligence he will weaken and disfigure the advantages of his body. He will abdicate from dignities. While preserving the health of his body, he will not desire to be entirely exempt from disease and sufferings. If he never experienced these evils, he will wish to make a trial of them during his youth. But when he has arrived at old age, he will no longer wish to be troubled either by pains, or pleasures, or anything sad or agreeable that relates to the body; so as not to be forced to give it his attention. He will oppose the sufferings he will have to undergo with a firmness that will never forsake him. He will not believe that his happiness is increased by pleasures, health or rest, nor destroyed nor diminished by their contraries. As the former advantages do not augment his felicity, how could their loss diminish it? [Ennead I,4 (46) 14]
It may still be objected that it is not matter that makes us wicked; for it is not matter that produces ignorance and perverted appetites. If, indeed, these appetites mislead us to evil as a result of the perversity of the body, we must seek its cause, not in matter, but in form (in the qualities of the bodies). These, for instance, are heat, cold, bitterness, pungency, and the other qualities of the bodily secretions; or, the atonic condition or inflammation of certain organs; or, certain dispositions which produce the difference of appetites; and, if you please, false opinions. Evil, therefore, is form rather than matter. Even under this (mistaken) hypothesis we are none the less driven to acknowledge that matter is the evil. A quality does not always produce the same results within or outside of matter; thus the form of the axe without iron does not cut. The forms that inhere in matter are not always what they would be if they were outside of it. The (“seminal) reasons” when inhering in matter are by it corrupted and filled with its nature. As fire, when separate from matter, does not burn; so form, when remaining by itself, effects what it would if it were in matter. Matter dominates any principle that appears within it, alters it, and corrupts it by imparting thereto its own nature, which is contrary to the Good. It does not indeed substitute cold for heat, but it adds to the form — as, for instance, to the form of fire — its formless substance; to figure adding its shapelessness; to measure, its excess and lack, proceeding thus until it has degraded things, transubstantiating them into its own nature. That is the reason that, in the nutrition of animals, what has been ingested does not remain what it was before. The foods that enter into the body of a dog, for instance, are by assimilation transformed into blood and canine secretions, and, in general, are transformed according to the animal that receives them. Thus even under the hypothesis that evils are referred to the body, matter is the cause of evils. [Ennead I,8 (51) 8]
All these planets contribute to the Whole. Their mutual relation, therefore, is one suitable to the universe, just as the organs of an animal are shaped to take part in the organism they constitute. Take, for instance, a part of the body, such as the bile, which serves both the whole animal that contains it, and its special organ, inasmuch as it was necessary to arouse courage, and to oppose the injury of both the whole body, and its special organ. There had to be something similar (to bile) in the universe; that something sweet should soften it, that there be parts that would play the role of eyes, and that all things should possess mutual sympathy by their irrational life. Thus only is the universe one, and thus only is it constituted by a single harmony. How then could it be denied that all these things might be signs, resulting from the laws of analogy? [Ennead II,3 (52) 5]
We must now distinguish, decide and express the origin of various things, inasmuch as there are some things that are produced by the course of the stars, and others that are not. Our principle is that the Soul governs the universe by Reason, just as each animal is governed by the principle (the reason) which fashions his organs, and harmonizes them with the whole of which they are parts; now the All contains everything, while the parts contain only what is individual to them. As to exterior influences, some assist, while others oppose the tendency of nature. All things are subordinated to the All because they are parts of it; by their co-operation, each with its own nature and their particular tendencies they form the total life of the universe. The inanimate beings serve as instruments for the others that set them in motion by a mechanical impulse. Irrational animated beings move indeterminately; such as horses attached to a chariot before the driver indicates which direction they are to follow; for they need the whip to be directed. The nature of the reasonable animal contains the directing driver; if the driver be skilful, it follows the straight road, instead of going blindly at chance, as often happens. Beings gifted with reason and those that lack it are both contained within the universe, and contribute to the formation of the whole. Those which are more powerful, and which occupy a more elevated rank do many important things, and co-operate in the life of the universe where their part is active, rather than passive. The passive ones act but little. Those of intermediary rank are passive in regard to some, and often active in regard to others, because they themselves possess the power of action and production (the stars, the brutes, and men.). [Ennead II,3 (52) 13]
It would, however, probably be better to put the matter thus: by their presence, the faculties of the soul cause reaction in the organs which possess them, so that while they themselves remain unmoved, they give them the power to enter into movement. In this case, however, when the living organism experiences suffering, the life-imparting cause must itself remain impassible, while the passions and energies belong wholly to that which receives life. In this case, therefore, the life will not belong exclusively to the soul, but to the conjunction of the soul and body; or, at least, the latter’s life will not be identical with the soul’s, nor will it be the faculty of sensation, which will feel, but the being in whom that faculty inheres. [Ennead I,1 (53) 6]
We have distinguished from things common to soul and body, those peculiar to the soul. The former are corporeal, and cannot be produced without the organs, while the latter’s occurrence is independent of the body. Ratiocination is the essential and constitutive faculty of the real soul, because it determines the typical forms derived from sensation, it looks, it somehow feels the images, and really is the dominating part of the soul. The conception of true things is the act of intuitive thoughts. [Ennead I,1 (53) 9]