(The Stoics), like almost everybody, insist that visual beauty consists in the proportion of the parts relatively to each other and to the whole, joined to the grace of colors. If then, as in this case, the beauty of bodies in general consists in the symmetry and just proportion of their parts, beauty could not consist of anything simple, and necessarily could not appear in anything but what was compound. Only the totality will be beautiful; the parts by themselves will possess no beauty; they will be beautiful only by their relation with the totality. Nevertheless, if the totality is beautiful, it would seem also necessary that the parts be beautiful; for indeed beauty could never result from the assemblage of ugly things. Beauty must therefore be spread among all the parts. According to the same doctrine, the colors which, like sunlight, are beautiful, are beautiful but simple, and those whose beauty is not derived from proportion, will also be excluded from the domain of beauty. According to this hypothesis, how will gold be beautiful? The brilliant lightning in the night, even the stars, would not be beautiful to contemplate. In the sphere of sounds, also, it would be necessary to insist that what is simple possesses no beauty. Still, in a beautiful harmony, every sound, even when isolated, is beautiful. While preserving the same proportions, the same countenance seems at one time beautiful, and at another ugly. Evidently, there is but one conclusion: namely, that proportion is not beauty itself, but that it derives its beauty from some superior principle. (This will appear more clearly from further examples). Let us examine occupations and utterances. If also their beauty depended on proportion, what would be the function of proportion when considering occupations, laws, studies and sciences? Relations of proportion could not obtain in scientific speculations; no, nor even in the mutual agreement of these speculations. On the other hand, even bad things may show a certain mutual agreement and harmony; as, for instance, were we to assert that wisdom is softening of the brain, and that justice is a generous folly. Here we have two revoltingly absurd statements, which agree perfectly, and harmonize mutually. Further, every virtue is a soul-beauty far truer than any that we have till now examined; yet it could not admit of proportion, as it involves neither size nor number. Again, granting that the soul is divided into several faculties, who will undertake to decide which combination of these faculties, or of the speculations to which the soul devotes itself, will produce beauty? Moreover (if beauty is but proportion), what beauty could be predicated of pure intelligence? [Ennead I,6 (1) 1]
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]
To begin with, this Necessity and Fate would by their excess destroy themselves, and render impossible the sequence and concatenation of the causes. It is, indeed, absurd to insist that our members are moved by Fate when they are set in motion, or innervated, by the “governing principle.” It is a mistake to suppose that there is a part which imparts motion, and on the other hand, a part which receives it from the former; it is the governing principle that moves the leg, as it would any other part. Likewise, if in the universe exists but a single principle which “acts and reacts,” if things derive from each other by a series of causes each of which refers to the preceding one, it will no longer be possible to say truly that all things arise through causes, for their totality will constitute but a single being. In that case, we are no longer ourselves; actions are no longer ours; it is no longer we who reason; it is a foreign principle which reasons, wills, and acts in us, just as it is not our feet that walk, but we who walk by the agency of our feet. On the contrary, common sense admits that every person lives, thinks, and acts by his own individual, proper life, thought and action; to each must be left the responsibility of his actions, good or evil, and not attribute shameful deeds to the universal cause. [Ennead III,1 (3) 4]
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]
Since the thought is something essentially one (?), the form, which is the object of thought, and the idea, are one and the same thing. Which is this thing? Intelligence and the intellectual “being,” for no idea is foreign to intelligence; each form is intelligence, and the whole intelligence is all the forms; every particular form is a particular intelligence. Likewise science, taken in its totality, is all the notions it embraces; every notion is a part of the total science; it is not separated from the science locally, and exists potentially in the whole science. Intelligence resides within itself, and by possessing itself calmly, is the eternal fulness of all things. If we conceived it as being prior to essence, we would have to say that it was the action and thought of Intelligence which produced and begat all beings. But as, on the contrary, it is certain that essence is prior to Intelligence, we should, within the thinking principle, first conceive the beings, then actualization and thought, just as (the nature) of fire is joined by the actualization of the fire, so that beings have innate intelligence as their actualization. Now essence is an actualization; therefore essence and intelligence are but a single actualization, or rather both of them fuse. Consequently, they form but a single nature, as beings, the actualization of essence, and intelligence. In this case the thought is the form, and the shape is the actualization of the being. When, however, in thought we separate essence from Intelligence, we must conceive one of these principles as prior to the other. The Intelligence which operates this separation is indeed different from the essence from which it separates; but the Intelligence which is inseparable from essence and which does not separate thought from essence is itself essence and all things. [Ennead V,9 (5) 8]
If the Soul were a body, then would the division of this body necessarily produce the multitude of souls, and this essence would be different in its different parts. Nevertheless, as this essence would be homogeneous, the souls (between which it would divide itself) would be similar to each other, because they would possess a single identical form in its totality, but they would differ by their body. If the essence of these souls consisted in the bodies which would serve them as subjects, they would be different from each other. If the essence of these souls consisted in their form, they would, in form, be but one single form; in other terms, there would be but one same single soul in a multitude of bodies. Besides, above this soul which would be one, but which would be spread abroad in the multitude of bodies, there would be another Soul which would not be spread abroad in the multitude of bodies; it would be from her that would proceed the soul which would be the unity in plurality, the multiple image of the single Soul in a single body, like a single seal, by impressing the same figure to a multitude of pieces of wax, would be distributing this figure in a multitude of impressions. In this case (if the essence of the soul consisted in her form) the soul would be something incorporeal, and as she would consist in an affection of the body, there would be nothing astonishing in that a single quality, emanating from a single principle, might be in a multitude of subjects simultaneously. Last, if the essence of the soul consisted in being both things (being simultaneously a part of a homogeneous body and an affection of the body), there would be nothing surprising (if there were a unity of essence in a multitude of subjects). We have thus shown that the soul is incorporeal, and an essence; we must now consider the results of this view. [Ennead IV,9 (8) 4]
His sovereign unity may best be understood by His being self-sufficient; for the most perfect principle is necessarily that which best suffices Himself, and which least needs anything else. Now anything that is not one, but manifold, needs something else. Not being one, but being composed of multiple elements, its being demands unification; but as the One is already one, He does not even need Himself. So much the more, the being that is manifold needs as many things as it contains; for each of the contained things exists only by its union with the others, and not in itself, and finds that it needs the others. Therefore such a being needs others, both for the things it contains, as for their totality. If then there must be something that fully suffices itself, it must surely be the One, which alone needs nothing either relatively to Himself, or to the other things. It needs nothing either to exist, or to be happy, or to be composed. To begin with, as He is the cause of the other beings, He does not owe His existence to them. Further, how could He derive His happiness from outside Himself? Within Him, happiness is not something contingent, but is His very nature. Again, as He does not occupy any space, He does not need any foundation on which to be edified, as if He could not sustain Himself. All that needs compounding is inanimate; without support it is no more than a mass ready to fall. (Far from needing any support) the One is the foundation of the edification of all other things; by giving them existence, He has at the same time given them a location. However, that which needs a location is not (necessarily) self-sufficient. [Ennead VI,9 (9) 6]
Besides, there is a great difference between the dark bottom of intelligible things and that of sense-objects; there is as much difference between the matter of the former and of the latter as there is between their form. The divine matter, on receiving the form that determines it, possesses an intellectual and determinate life. On the contrary, even when the matter of the bodies becomes something determinate, it is neither alive nor thinking; it is dead, in spite of its borrowed beauty. As the shape (of sense-objects) is only an image, their substrate also is only an image. But as the shape (of intelligible entities) possesses veritable (reality), their substrate is of the same nature. We have, therefore, full justification for calling matter “being,” that is, when referring to intelligible matter; for the substrate of intelligible entities really is “being,” especially if conceived of together with its inherent (form). For “being” is the luminous totality (or complex of matter and form). To question the eternity of intelligible matter is tantamount to questioning that of ideas; indeed, intelligible entities are begotten in the sense that they have a principle; but they are non-begotten in the sense that their existence had no beginning, and that, from all eternity, they derive their existence from their principle. Therefore they do not resemble the things that are always becoming, as our world; but, like the intelligible world, they ever exist. [Ennead II,4 (12) 5]
(An objector might ask) whether there be identity of conditions between the soul’s not thinking, and her experience while thinking of matter? By no means; when the soul is not thinking of anything, she neither asserts anything, nor experiences anything. When she thinks of matter, she experiences something, she receives the impression of the shapeless. When she presents to herself objects that possess shape and magnitude, she conceives of them as composite; for she sees them as distinct (or, colored?) and determined by qualities they contain. She conceives of both the totality and its two constituent elements. She also has a clear perception, a vivid sensation of properties inherent (in matter). On the contrary, the soul receives only an obscure perception of the shapeless subject, for there is no form there. Therefore, when the soul considers matter in general, in the composite, with the qualities inherent in this composite, she separates them, analyzes them, and what is left (after this analysis), the soul perceives it vaguely, and obscurely, because it is something vague and obscure; she thinks it, without really thinking it. On the other hand, as matter does not remain shapeless, as it is always shaped, within objects, the soul always imposes on matter the form of things, because only with difficulty does she support the indeterminate, since she seems to fear to fall out of the order of beings, and to remain long in nonentity. [Ennead II,4 (12) 10]
(As Nicholas of Damascus used to say) the totality of a science is divided into particular propositions, without, however, thereby being broken up into fragments, inasmuch as each proposition contains potentially the whole science, whose principle and goal coincide. Likewise, we should so manage ourselves that each of the faculties we possess within ourselves should also become a goal and a totality; and then so arrange all the faculties that they will be consummated in what is best in our nature (that is, intelligence). Success in this constitutes “dwelling on high” (living spiritually); for, when one possesses the intelligible, one touches it by what is best in oneself. [Ennead III,9 (13) 2]
It is to this (universal) Soul especially that may be applied these words of Plato: “The general Soul cares for all that is inanimate.” The other (individual) souls are in different conditions. “The Soul (adds Plato), circulates around the heavens successively assuming divers forms”; that is, the forms of thought, sense or growth. The part which dominates in the soul fulfills its proper individual function; the others remain inactive, and somehow seem exterior to them. In man, it is not the lower powers of the soul that dominate. They do indeed co-exist with the others. Neither is it always the best power (reason), which always dominates; for the inferior powers equally have their place. Consequently, man (besides being a reasonable being) is also a sensitive being, because he possesses sense-organs. In many respects, he is also a vegetative being; for his body feeds and grows just like a plant. All these powers (reason, sensibility, growth), therefore act together in the man; but it is the best of them that characterizes the totality of the man (so that he is called a “reasonable being”). On leaving the body the soul becomes the power she had preponderatingly developed. Let us therefore flee from here below, and let us raise ourselves to the intelligible world, so as not to fall into the pure sense-life, by allowing ourselves to follow sense-images, or into the life of growth, by abandoning ourselves to the pleasures of physical love, and to gormandizing; rather, let us rise to the intelligible world, to the intelligence, to the divinity! [Ennead III,4 (15) 2]
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]
We must acknowledge that the reasons which produce these things (as heat, and whiteness) are beings, if taken in their totality; but on considering their production, we see that what constitutes a whatness or quiddity (the Aristotelian “what it were to be”) in the intelligible world, becomes a quality in the sense-world. Consequently, we always err on the subject of the quiddity, when we try to determine it, mistaking the simple quality for it (as thought Plato), for, when we perceive a quality, the fire is not what we call fire, but a being. As to the things which arrest our gaze, we should distinguish them from the quiddity, and define them by the qualities of sense (objects); for they do not constitute the being, but the affections of being. [Ennead II,6 (17) 1]
Is the universal (Being) by itself present everywhere? Or does it remain within itself, while from its innermost its powers descend on all things, and is it in this sense that it is regarded as everywhere present? Yes, doubtless. That is why it is said that souls are the rays of this universal (Being), that it is built on itself, and that from it, souls descend into various animals. The things which participate in its unity, incapable as they are of possessing a complete nature conformed to its nature, enjoy the presence of the universal (Being) in this sense that they enjoy the presence of some of its powers. They are not, however, entirely separated from it, because it is not separated from the power which it communicates to each of them. If they do not have more, it is only because they are not capable of receiving more from the presence of the entire whole (Being). Evidently it is always entirely present there where its powers are present. It however remains separated, for if it became the form of any one particular being, it would cease to be universal, to subsist everywhere in itself, and it would be the accident of some other “being.” Therefore, since it belongs to none of these things, even of those that aspire to unite themselves with it, it makes them enjoy its presence when they desire it, and in the measure in which they are capable thereof; but it does not belong to any of them in particular. It is not surprising, therefore, that it should be present in all things, since it is not present in any in a manner such as to belong to it alone. It is also reasonable to assert that, if the soul share the passions of the bodies, it is only by accident, that she dwells in herself, and belongs neither to matter nor to body, that the whole of her illuminates the whole world-body. It is not a contradiction to say that the (Being) which is not present in any place is present to all things each of which is in a place. What, indeed, would be surprising and impossible would be that the universal (Being) could, while occupying a determinate place, be present to things which are in a place, and could at all be present in the sense in which we have explained it. Reason forces us, therefore, to admit that the universal (Being) must, precisely because it does not occupy any place, be entirely present to the things to which it is present; and, since it is present to the universe, be entirely present to each thing; otherwise, one part of it would be here, and another there; consequently, it would be divisible, it would be body. How otherwise could one divide the (“Being”)? Is it its life that shall within it be divided? If it be the totality of the (being) that is life, no part of it would be that. Or will somebody try to divide the Intelligence, so that one of its parts be here, and the other there? In this case, neither of the two parts would be intelligence. Or will the (Being) itself be divided? But if the totality be the (Being), no one part of it would be that. It might be objected that the parts of the bodies are still bodies themselves. But that which is divided is not the body (as such), but a certain body of a certain extent; now each of its parts possesses the form that causes it to be named body; while the form not only does not have some particular extension, but even any kind of extension at all. [Ennead VI,4 (22) 3]
It would seem as if there were a contradiction between the present assertions and other statements of ours; and perhaps our demonstration imposes rather than convinces. It is impossible to believe that the essence which is one be also everywhere identical; it would seem preferable to admit that essence, considered in its totality, is susceptible of division, so long as this division does not diminish it; or, to use more careful terms, that it begets all things while remaining with itself; and that the souls that are born of it, and are its parts, fill up everything. But if it be admitted that the One essence remains in Himself because it seems incredible that a principle could everywhere be present entire, the same difficulty would hinder us in regard to souls; for it will result that each of them will no longer be entire in the whole body, but will be divided therein, or, if each individual soul remain entire, that it is by remaining in one part of the body, that the soul will communicate her power to it. These same questions about the soul could be raised about the powers of the soul, and we might ask if they be all entire everywhere. Last, one could be led to believe that the soul was in one member, while her power was in another. [Ennead VI,4 (22) 4]
Let us return to this question: How can the same principle exist in all things? This question amounts to asking how each of the sense-objects which form a plurality and which occupy different places, can, nevertheless, participate in the same principle; for it is not allowable to divide unity into a multitude of parts; it would be more fitting to reduce the multitude of parts to unity, which could not approach them. But when these parts occupy different places, they have led us to believe that unity likewise is split up, as if the power which dominates and which contains were divided into as many parts as that which is contained. The hand itself (though corporeal), may hold an entire body, such as a piece of wood several feet in length, and other objects. In this case, the force that holds makes itself felt in the whole object that is felt, and does not distribute itself in as many parts as it may contain, though it be circumscribed by the limit of the reach of the hand. Nevertheless, the hand is limited by its own extension, and not by that of the body which is held or suspended. Add to the suspended body some other length, and admitting that the hand can carry it, its force will hold the entire body without dividing into as many parts as it may contain. Now suppose that the corporeal mass of the hand be annihilated, and, nevertheless, allow the force which, before, existed in the hand and held the weight, to persist; will not this same force, indivisible in the totality, be equally indivisible in each of its parts? [Ennead VI,4 (22) 6]
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]
Neither is matter magnitude itself; for magnitude is a form, and not a residence; it exists by itself (for matter cannot even appropriate the images of beings). Not even in this respect, therefore, is matter magnitude. But as that which exists in intelligence or in the soul desired to acquire magnitude, it imparted to the things that desired to imitate magnitude by their aspiration or movement, the power to impress on some other object a modification analogous to their own. Thus magnitude, by developing in the procession of imagination, dragged along with itself the smallness of matter, made it seem large by extending it along with itself, without becoming filled by that extension. The magnitude of matter is a false magnitude, since matter does not by itself possess magnitude, and by extending itself along with magnitude, has shared the extension of the latter. Indeed as all intelligible beings are reflected, either in other things in general, or in one of them in particular, as each of them was large, the totality also is, in this manner, great (?). Thus the magnitude of each reason constituted a particular magnitude, as, for instance, a horse, or some other being. The image formed by the universal reflection of intelligible beings became a magnitude, because it was illuminated by magnitude itself. Every part of it became a special magnitude; and all things together seemed great by virtue of the universal form to which magnitude belongs. Thus occurred the extension of each thing towards each of the others, and towards their totality. The amount of this extension in form and in mass necessarily depended on the power, that transformed what in reality was nothing to an appearance of being all things. In the same manner color, that arose out of what is not color, and quality, that arose out of what is not quality, here below were referred to by the same name as the intelligible entities (of which they are the images). The case is similar for magnitude, which arose out of that which has none, or at least out of that magnitude that bears the same name (as intelligible magnitude). [Ennead III,6 (26) 17]
Granting then that there is no division in the intelligence which possesses everything simultaneously; will there not at least be division in the soul which has risen to the intelligible world? Nothing however forbids that the totality of the united intelligibles be grasped by an intuition equally unitary and total. [Ennead IV,4 (28) 1]
The movement of the stars might be compared to that of a choric ballet. Let us suppose that it had but a limited duration; its motion would be considered perfect, if viewed as a totality, from beginning to end; but if considered in its parts only, it would be imperfect. Now if we suppose that it exists always; then will it always be perfect. If it be always perfect, there will be neither time nor place where it is becoming perfect; consequently, it will not even have any desire, and it will measure nothing, neither by time nor place; and therefore will not remember either. [Ennead IV,4 (28) 8]
But how are they anterior to each other? It must be because here he who commands is identical with him who is commanded. Now in commanding he expresses one thing after another; for why are all things not together? (Not so). If the command and he who commands were separate entities, the things would have been produced in the same manner as they have been expressed (by speech); but as the commander is himself the first command, he does not express things (by speech), he only produces them one after the other. If he were (by speech) to express what he actually does, he would have to consider the order; consequently, he would have to be separate from it. Is it asked, how can the commander be identical with the command? He is not simultaneously form and matter, but form alone (that is, the totality of the reasons which are simultaneously present to him). Thus, the Soul is both the potentiality and the actualization which occupy the second rank after Intelligence. To have parts some of which are prior to others suits only such objects as cannot be everything simultaneously. [Ennead IV,4 (28) 16]
The above consideration would clear up the problem set above. The gods (that is, the stars), cannot be held responsible for our ills because, 1. things produced by the gods do not result from a free choice, but from a natural necessity; because, as parts of the universe, the gods act on other parts of the universe, and contribute to the life of the universal organism. 2. Terrestrial beings themselves add very much to the things that are derived from the stars; 3. the things given us by the stars are not evil, but are altered by being mingled; 4. the life of the universe is not regulated (in advance) for the individual, but only for the totality; 5. matter does not experience modifications completely corresponding to the impressions it receives, and cannot entirely submit to the form given to it. [Ennead IV,4 (28) 39]
Evidently nature possesses neither hands, nor feet, nor any natural or artificial instrument. For production its only need is a matter on which to work, and which it forms. The works of nature exclude all ideas of mechanical operation; not by any impelling force, nor by using levers nor machines does it produce varied colors, nor draw the outlines of objects. Even the workmen who form wax figures, to whose work the operations of nature are often compared, cannot endue objects with colors without borrowing them from elsewhere. Besides, we must observe that these workmen contain a power which remains immutable, and by the sole means of which they produce their works with their hands. Likewise, nature contains a power which remains immovable as a whole; it has no need of some parts that would remain immovable, and others that move. It is matter alone that undergoes movement, for the forming power is in no way moved. Were the forming power moved, it would no longer be the first motor; the first motor would no longer be nature, but whatever might, in its totality, be immovable. [Ennead III,8 (30) 2]
It may be objected that the (“seminal) reason” may remain immutable, but that nature is distinct from reason, and is mutable. Considering the totality of nature, we include reason. Considering only one of its parts as immutable, this part still will be reason. Nature must be a form, and not a composite of matter and form. What need would it have of a matter that might be either cold or hot, since matter, when subjected to form, either possesses these qualities, or receives them, or rather undergoes the action of reason before having any qualities. Indeed, it is not by fire that matter becomes fire, but by reason. Consequently, in animals and plants, it is the “reasons” that produce; and nature is a reason that produces other reasons, imparting some of herself to the substance subjected to her influence, while remaining within herself. The reason that consists in a visible shape occupies the last rank; it is dead, and produces nothing. The living “reason” (which administers the body of the living being), being sister to the “reason” that produced the visible form (in begetting the body of the living being), and possessing the same power as this reason, alone produces within the begotten being. [Ennead III,8 (30) 2]
(4). After having spoken of nature, and having explained how generation is a sort of contemplation, let us pass to the Soul that occupies a rank superior to nature. This is what we have to say about her. By her contemplative action, by her ardent desire to learn and to discover, by the fruitfulness of her knowledge, and her resulting need to produce, the Soul, her totality having become an object of contemplation, gave birth to some other object; just as science, on fructifying, by instruction begets a lesser science in the soul of the young disciple who possesses the images of all things, but only in the state of obscure theories, of feeble speculations, which are incapable of self-sufficiency. The higher and rational part of the Soul ever dwells in the higher region of the intelligible world, and is, by this intelligible world, ever illuminated and fructified; while the lower (“natural and generative power”) participates in what the superior part has received, by immediately participating in the intelligible; for life ever proceeds from life, and its actualization extends to everything, and is present everywhere. In her procession, the universal Soul allows her superior part to remain in the intelligible world; for, if she detached herself from this superior part, she would no longer be present everywhere; she would subsist only in her lower extremities. Besides, the part of the Soul that thus proceeds out of the intelligible world is inferior to what remains within it. Therefore, if the Soul must be present and must assert her sphere of activity everywhere, and if that which occupies the superior rank differs from that which occupies the inferior; if, besides, her activity proceeds either from contemplation or action, though indeed originally from contemplation — because contemplation precedes the action which could not exist without contemplation; in this state of affairs, though one actualization would be weaker than another, yet it would ever remain a contemplation, so that the action derived from contemplation seems to be no more than a weakened contemplation; for that which is begotten must always remain consubstantial with its generating principle, though weaker, since of lower rank. All things therefore silently proceed from the Soul, because they stand in no need of either contemplation or exterior visible action. Thus the Soul contemplates, and the contemplating part of the Soul, being somehow located outside of the superior part, and being different therefrom, produces what is below it; thus it is that contemplation begets contemplation. No more than its object is contemplation limited below; that is why it extends to everything. Where is it not? Every soul contains the same object of contemplation. This object, without being circumscribed as a magnitude, does not equally inhere in all beings; consequently, it is not present in the same way to all parts of the Soul. That is why Plato says that the charioteer of the soul communicates to his horses what he has seen. The latter receive something from him only because they desire to possess what he has seen; for they have not received the entire intelligible (world). Though they act because of a desire, they act only in view of what they desire; that is, in view of contemplation, and of its object. [Ennead III,8 (30) 5]
It is then by all of us agreed that the universe proceeds from a superior Principle which possesses a certain perfection. The (Gnostic) question then arises whether this Principle, before creating, reflected that it was necessary first to form the globe, and to suspend it to the middle of the world; then, to produce the water, and to spread it over the surface of the earth; later creating successively the other things contained in the space between the earth and heaven. Further, did He give birth to all the animals only after having to Himself represented all their forms, and exterior parts? Did the Creator undertake the work only after having conceived the plan of the world in its totality and in its details? Certainly not; He cannot have submitted to all such considerations. How could He, never having seen anything such, have been inclined to them? Neither could He have borrowed the idea of the things He was to produce, and then carried them out as some workman, by the use of his hands and feet; for hands and feet are created entities. The only hypothesis left is that all things were within some one other thing (that is, matter, which is their substrate). (“Being”) was next to this other thing (matter), and as no interval separated them, He suddenly begot an image or representation of Himself, either by Himself, or by the intermediation of the universal Soul, or of some particular soul — which detail does not matter to our discussion here. [Ennead V,8 (31) 7]
This is what is beheld by Jupiter and by all those of us who share His love for this revelation. The last thing which then appears is the beauty that shines in its entirety in the essences (that is, beings), as well as in those who participate therein. In the intelligible world everything glows, and beautifies itself by shedding splendor on those who gaze at it. Thus men who have climbed a high mountain on arriving at the summit suddenly shine with the golden color reflected by the ground whereon they stand. Now the color that bathes the intelligible world is the beauty that blooms within its flower; or rather there everything is color, everything is beauty, in its most intimate depths; for beauty, in the intelligible world, is not a flower that blooms only on the surface. Those who do not apprehend the totality of the view appreciate the beauty of only that which meets their gaze; but those who, like men intoxicated with this sweet nectar, are, to the very soul, penetrated by the beauty of the intelligible world, are no longer mere spectators. No longer are the contemplated objects and the contemplated soul two things exterior to each other. If the soul’s gaze is piercing enough, she finds the object she contemplates within herself. Often she possesses it without knowing it. Then indeed does she contemplate it as she would contemplate some exterior object, because she seeks to see it in the same manner. Every time that one looks at something as a spectacle, it is seen outside of oneself. Now this spectacle of the intelligible world must be transferred within oneself, and be contemplated as something with which one has fused, to the point of identity. Thus a man, possessed by a divinity, whether by Phoebus or by some Muse, would contemplate this divinity within himself, if he were at all able to contemplate a divinity. [Ennead V,8 (31) 10]
Do not seek to see this Principle by the aid of other things; otherwise, instead of seeing Him himself, you will see no more than His image. Try rather to conceive the nature of the Principle that must be grasped in Himself, that is, pure and without any admixture, because all beings participate in Him, without any of them possessing Him. No other thing indeed could be such as He; but nevertheless such a Being must exist. Who indeed could all at once embrace the totality of the power of this Principle? If a being did so, how could this being differ from Him? Would the being limit itself to embracing only a part of Him? You might grasp this Principle by an intuitive, simple intellection, but you will not be able to represent Him to yourself in His totality. Otherwise it is you who would be the thinking intelligence, if indeed you have reached that principle; but He is more likely to flee you, or more likely still, you will flee from Him. When you consider the divinity, consider Him in His totality. When you think Him, know that what you remember of Him is the Good; for He is the cause of the wise intellectual life, because He is the power from which life and intelligence proceed. He is the cause of “being” and essence, because He is one; He is simple and first, because He is principle. It is from Him that everything proceeds. It is from Him that the first movement proceeds, without being in Him; it is from Him also that proceeds the first rest, because He himself has no need of it; He himself is neither in movement nor rest; for He has nothing in which He could rest or move. By His relation to what, towards what, or in what could He move or rest? Neither is He limited, for by what could He be limited? Neither is He infinite in the manner suggested by an enormous mass; for whither would He have any need of extending Himself? Would He do so to get something? But He has need of nothing! It is His power that is infinite. He could neither change nor lack anything; for the beings which lack nothing owe this to Him only. [Ennead V,5 (32) 10]
Elsewhere we have demonstrated that this world never began, and will never end; and that it must last as long as the intelligible entities. We have also shown, and that earlier than these (Gnostics), that the soul’s intercourse with the body is not advantageous to her. But to judge the universal Soul according to ours is to resemble a man who would blame the totality of a well governed city by an examination limited to the workers in earth or metal. [Ennead II,9 (33) 7]
(Gnostics) admit that the Divinity interests Himself in men. How then could He (as they insist), neglect the world that contains them? Could this be the case because He lacked the leisure to look after it? In this case He would lack the leisure to look after anything beneath Him (including men also). On the other hand, if He do care for men, that care would include the world that surrounds and contains them. If He ignored what surrounded men, in order to ignore the world, He would thereby also ignore the men themselves. The objection that men do need that the Divinity should care for the world (is not true), for the world does need the care of the Divinity. The Divinity knows the arrangement of the world, the men it contains, and their condition therein. The friends of the Divinity support meekly all that results necessarily therefrom. (They are right), for that which happens should be considered not only from one’s own standpoint, but also from that of the totality of circumstances. Each (person or thing) should be considered from his place (in the scale of existence); one should ever aspire to Him to whom aspire all beings capable of (the Good); one should be persuaded that many beings, or rather that all beings, aspire thereto; that those who attain to Him are happy, while the others achieve a fate suitable to their nature; finally, one should not imagine oneself alone capable of attaining happiness. Mere assertion of possession does not suffice for real possession thereof. There are many men who, though perfectly conscious that they do not possess some good, nevertheless boast of its possession, or who really believe they do possess it, when the opposite is the true state of affairs; or that they exclusively possess it when they are the only ones who do not possess it. [Ennead II,9 (33) 9]
How could this newly formed image (the demiurgic creator) have undertaken to create by memory of the things he knew? As he did not exist before, he could not have known anything, any more than the mother (Wisdom) which is attributed to him. Besides, it is quite surprising that, though the (Gnostics) did not descend upon this world as images of souls, but as veritable, genuine souls, nevertheless hardly one or two of them succeeds in detaching themselves from the (sense) world and by gathering together their memories, to remember some of the things they previously knew, while this image (the demiurgical creator), as well as his mother (Wisdom), which is a material image, was capable of conceiving intelligible entities in a feeble manner, indeed, as say the Gnostics, but after all from her very birth. Not only did she conceive intelligible things, and formed an idea of the sense-world from the intelligible world, but she also discovered with what elements she was to produce the sense-world. Why did she first create the fire? Doubtless because she judged she would begin thereby; for why did she not begin with some other element? If she could produce fire because she had the conception thereof, why, as she had the conception of the world — as she must have begun by a conception of the totality — did she not create the whole at one single stroke? Indeed, this conception of the world embraced all its parts. It would also have been more natural, for the demiurgical creator should not have acted like a workman, as all the arts are posterior to nature and to the creation of the world. Even to-day, we do not see the natures when they beget individuals, first produce the fire, then the other elements successively, and finally mingle them. On the contrary, the outline and organization of the entire organism are formed at once in the germ born at the monthly periods in the womb of the mother. Why then, in creation, should matter not have been organized at one stroke by the type of the world, a type that must have contained fire, earth, and all the rest of them? Perhaps the (Gnostics) would have thus conceived of the creation of the world, if (instead of an image) they had had in their system a genuine Soul. But their demiurgic creator could not have proceeded thus. To conceive of the greatness, and especially of the dimension of the heavens, of the obliquity of the zodiac, of the course of the stars, the form of the earth, and to understand the reason of each of these things, would not have been the work of an image, but rather of a power that proceeded from the better principles, as the (Gnostics) in spite of themselves acknowledge. [Ennead II,9 (33) 12]
The objection that unity, without itself experiencing anything, by the mere addition of something else, is no longer one, but becomes double, is a mistake. The one has not become two, and is not that which has been added to it, nor that to which something has been added. Each of them remains one, such as it was; but two can be asserted of their totality, and one of each of them separately. Two therefore, not any more than “pair,” is by nature a relation. If the pair consisted in the union (of two objects), and if “being united” were identical with “to duplicate,” in this case the union, as well as the pair, would constitute two. Now a “pair” appears likewise in a state contrary (to that of the reunion of two objects); for two may be produced by the division of a single object. Two, therefore, is neither reunion nor division, as it would have to be in order to constitute a relation. [Ennead VI,6 (34) 14]
Since we have spoken of corporeity, it must be analyzed. Is it a composite of all qualities, or does it constitute a form, a “reason,” which produces the body by presence in matter? If the body be the composite of all the qualities together with matter, this totality of qualities will constitute corporeity. But if corporeity be a reason which produces the body by approaching matter, doubtless it is a reason which contains all the qualities. Now, if this reason be not at all a definition of being, if it be a reason productive of the object, it will not contain any matter. It is the reason which applies itself to matter, and which, by its presence, produces the body there. Body is matter with indwelling “reason.” This “reason,” being a form, may be considered separately from matter, even if it were entirely inseparable therefrom. Indeed, “reason” separated (from matter), and residing in intelligence, is different (from “reason” united to matter); the “Reason” which abides within Intelligence is Intelligence itself. But this subject (I shall) refer to elsewhere. [Ennead II,7 (37) 3]
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]
Since all intelligible (entities) have a hypostatic consubstantial existence affording no room for chance; and as they are not separated from each other, things that are caused must bear these their causes within themselves, and each of them has some sort of a cause, though without really possessing one. If there be no cause for the existence of the intelligibles; and if, though isolated from all causes, they be self-sufficient; it can only be because they carry their cause along with them, when they are considered in themselves. As they contain nothing fortuitous, and as each of them is manifold, and as its cause is all that they contain, we might assign this cause to themselves. Thus in the intelligible world “being” is preceded, or rather accompanied by its cause, which is still more “being” than cause, or rather which becomes identified with it. What superfluousness, indeed, could there be in intelligence, unless its conceptions resemble imperfect productions? If its conceptions be perfect, one could neither discover what they lack, nor define their cause, and, since they possess everything, they also possess their cause. There, “being” and cause are united; the presence of both is recognized in each conception, in each actualization of intelligence. Let us, for instance, consider the intelligible Man; he seems complete, in his totality; all his attributes were his simultaneously from the beginning; he was always entirely complete. It is the characteristic of that which is generated not always to be what it ought to be, and to need to acquire something. The intelligible Man is eternal; he is therefore always complete; but that which becomes man must be generated (being). [Ennead VI,7 (38) 2]
But how can there be anything imperfect in the intelligible world? Why does the intelligible Animal have horns? Is it for its defense? To be perfect and complete. It is to be perfect as an animal, perfect as intelligence, and perfect as life; so that, if it lack one quality, it may have a substitute. The cause of the differences, is that what belongs to one being finds itself replaced in another being by something else; so that the totality (of the beings) may result in the most perfect Life, and Intelligence, while all the particular beings which are thus found in the intelligible essence are perfect so far as they are particular. [Ennead VI,7 (38) 10]
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]
Essences (“beings”) therefore cannot exist without an actualization of Intelligence. By this actualization, after having produced some (“being”), Intelligence always produces some other one, somehow carrying out the career which it is natural for veritable Intelligence to carry out within itself; this career is that of the beings, of which each corresponds to one of its evolutions, (or, it roams around among beings, so that through its roaming around these beings unite and form.) Since Intelligence is everywhere identical, its evolutions imply permanence, and they make it move around the “field of truth” without ever issuing therefrom. It occupies this whole field, because Intelligence has made itself the locality where its evolutions operate, a locality which is identical with what it contains. This field is varied enough to offer a career to be fulfilled; if it were not universally and eternally varied, there would be a stopping-place where variety would cease; and, were Intelligence to stop, it would not think; and if it had never stopped, it would have existed without thought (or, it would not exist). This however, is not the case; therefore thought exists, and its universal movement produces the fulness of universal “Being.” Universal “Being,” however, is the thought that embraces universal Life, and which, after each thing, ever conceives some other; because, since that which within it is identical is all so different. It continually divides and ever finds something different from the others. In its march, Intelligence ever progresses from life to life, from animated (beings) to animated (beings); just as some traveller, advancing on the earth, finds all that he travels through to be earth, whatever variations thereof there may have been. In the intelligible world, the life whose field one traverses is always self-identical, but it is also always different. The result is that (this sphere of operations) does not seem the same to us, because in its evolution, which is identical, life experiences (or, traverses) things which are not the same. That however does not change this life, for it passes through different things in a uniform and identical manner. If this uniformity and identity of Intelligence were not applied to different things, Intelligence would remain idle; it would no longer exist in actualization, and no more be actualization. Now these different things constitute Intelligence itself. Intelligence is therefore universal, because this universality forms its very nature. Being thus universal, Intelligence is all things; there is nothing in it which does not contribute to its universality; and everything is different, so as to be able still to contribute to totality, by its very difference. If there were no difference, if everything in it were identical, the being of Intelligence would be diminished, inasmuch as its nature would no more co-operate towards its harmonic consummation. [Ennead VI,7 (38) 13]
Is it by a mere play on words that life, intelligence and ideas are called good? Does the good constitute their being, or is each good taken in its totality? Good could not constitute the being of each of them. Are they then parts of the Good? The Good, however, is indivisible. The things that are beneath it are good for different reasons. The primary actualization (that proceeds from the Good) is good; likewise, the determination it receives is good, and the totality of both things is good. The actualization is good because it proceeds from the Good; the determination, because it is a perfection that has emanated from the Good; and the combination of actualization and determination because it is their totality. All these things thus are derived from one and the same principle, but nevertheless they are different. Thus (in a choric ballet) the voice and the step proceed from one and the same person, in that they are all perfectly regulated. Now they are well regulated because they contain order and rhythm. What then is the content in the above-mentioned things that would make them good? But perhaps it may be objected that if the voice and step are well regulated, each one of them entirely owes it to some external principle, since the order is here applied to the things that differ from each other. On the contrary, the things of which we speak are each of them good in itself. And why are they good? It does not suffice to say that they are good because they proceed from the Good. Doubtless we shall have to grant that they are precious from the moment that they proceed from the Good, but reason demands that we shall determine that of which their goodness consists. [Ennead VI,7 (38) 18]
When we speak of absolute Beauty, we must therefore withdraw from all determinate shape, setting none before the eyes (of our mind); otherwise, we would expose ourselves to descending from absolute beauty to something which does not deserve the name of beauty but by virtue of an obscure and feeble participation; while absolute Beauty is a shapeless form, if it be at all allowed to be an idea (or form). Thus you may approach the universal Shape only by abstraction. Abstract even the form found in the reason (that is, the essence), by which we distinguish one action from another. Abstract, for instance, the difference that separates temperance from justice, though both be beautiful. For by the mere fact that intelligence conceives an object as something proper, the object that it conceives is diminished, even though this object were the totality of intelligible entities; and, on the other hand, if each of them, taken apart, have a single form, nevertheless all taken together will offer a certain variety. [Ennead VI,7 (38) 33]
The incorruptibility of the heaven has been ascribed to its containing within its breast all things, and to the non-existence of any other thing into which it could change, as well as to the impossibility of its meeting anything exterior that could destroy it. These theories would indeed, in a reasonable manner, explain the incorruptibility of heaven considered as totality, and universe; but would fail to explain the perpetuity of the sun and of the other stars which are parts of heaven, instead of being the whole universe, as is the heaven. It would seem more reasonable that, just like the fire and similar things, the stars, and the world considered as universe would possess a perpetuity chiefly of form. It is quite possible that the heaven, without meeting any destructive exterior thing, should be subjected to a perpetual destruction such that it would preserve nothing identical but the form, from the mere mutual destruction of its parts. In this case its substrate, being in a perpetual flux, would receive its form from some other principle; and we would be driven to recognize in the universal living Organism what occurs in man, in the horse, and in other animals; namely, that the man or horse (considered as species) lasts forever, while the individual changes. (According to this view, then) the universe will not be constituted by one ever permanent part, the heaven, and another ceaselessly changing one, composed of terrestrial things. All these things will then be subject to the same condition though they might differ by longer or shorter duration, since celestial bodies are more durable. Such a conception of the perpetuity characteristic of the universe and its parts contains less ambiguity (than the popular notion), and would be freed from all doubt if we were to demonstrate that the divine power is capable of containing the universe in this manner. The theory that the world contains something perpetual in its individuality would demand not only a demonstration that the divine volition can produce such an effect, but also an explanation why certain things (according to that theory) are always identical (in form and individuality), while other things are identical only by their form. If the parts of the heaven alone remained identical (by their individuality), all other things also should logically remain (individually) identical. [Ennead II,1 (40) 1]
As to (Aristotle’s) assertion that the property of quantity is to be both equal and unequal, this property belongs to quantity itself, and not to the objects which participate in quantity, unless it be by accident, so far as one does not consider these objects in themselves. A three foot object, for instance, is a quantity so far as it is taken in its totality; but it does not form a kind with quantity itself; only, along with it, it is traced back to a kind of unity, a common category. [Ennead VI,1 (42) 5]
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]
Under these circumstances, the divisions that we establish are no more only genera, they are simultaneously the very principles of world-Essence; on the one hand they are genera, because they contain less extended genera, beneath which are species, which end in individuals; they are also principles, because world-Essence is composed of multiple elements, and because these elements constitute the totality of Essence. If it were only stated that world-Essence is composed of several elements, and that these elements, by co-operation, constitute the All, without adding that they branch out into lower species, our divisions would indeed be principles, but they would no longer be genera. For instance, if it be said that the sense-world is composed of four elements, such as fire, or other elements, these elements are indeed principles, but not genera, unless this name be used as a verbal similarity (or, homonym, or pun). [Ennead VI,2 (43) 2]
However, could we not say that the soul does not have all that she has through her being, in this sense, that in her we must distinguish on one hand essence, and on the other some kind of essence? If the soul possess such a kind of essence, and if this kind of essence come to her from without, the whole will no longer be the being of the soul so far as she is soul; only partially will it be the being of the soul, and not in totality. Besides, what would be the essence of the soul without the other things which constitute her being? Will the essence be the same for the soul as for the stone? Will we not rather have to insist that this essence of the soul derives from her very being; that this essence is her source and principle; or rather, that it is all that the soul is, and consequently is life; and finally that in the soul life and essence fuse? [Ennead VI,2 (43) 6]
In what sense, therefore, could each of the elements of essence be called “one”? In that it is something unitary, without being unity itself; for what is a “certain one” is already manifold. No species is “one” except figuratively; for in itself it is manifold. It is in the same sense that, in this sense-world, we say that an army, or a choric ballet, constitute a unity. Not in such things is absolute unity; and therefore it may not be said that unity is something common. Neither does unity reside in essence itself, nor in the individual essences; therefore, it is not a genus. When a genus is predicated of something, it is impossible to predicate of the same thing contrary properties; but of each of the elements of universal essence it is possible to assert both unity and its opposite. Consequently (if we have called unity a genus), after having predicated of some essence unity as a genus, we would have affirmed, of the same essence, that unity was not a genus. Unity, therefore, could not be considered one of the primary genera; for essence is no more one than it is manifold. As to the other genera, none of them is one without being manifold; much less could unity be predicated of the secondary genera of which each is quite manifold. Besides, no genus, considered in its totality, is unitary; so that if unity were a genus, it would merely thereby cease being unity; for unity is not a number, and nevertheless it would become a number in becoming a genus. Of course, numbers include an alleged unity, as soon as we try to erect it into a genus, it is no longer a unity, in a strict sense. Among numbers unity is not applied to them as would have been a genus; of such unity it is merely said that it is among numbers, not that it is a genus; likewise, if unity were among the essences, it would not be there as genus of essence, nor of anything else, nor of all things. Again, just as the simple is the principle of the composite without being considered a genus in respect to it — then it would be simultaneously simple and composite — so, if one were considered to be a principle, it could not be a genus in respect to things subsumed under it; and therefore will be a genus neither for essence, nor for other (categories or things). [Ennead VI,2 (43) 10]
Thus Essence reveals within itself all the Forms and universality. This could not have been particular; for it could not be single, the double presence of difference and identity demanding it to be simultaneously one and many. Since, from its very origin, Essence is one and many, all the species it contains must consequently simultaneously contain unity and plurality, revealing dimensions, qualities, and different figures; for it is impossible that Essence should lack anything, or should not be complete universality; for it would no longer be universal, if it were not complete. Life, therefore, penetrates every thing; is everywhere present within it. Hence results that from that Life must have been born all living organisms, for since matter and quality are found within their bodies, these also are not lacking. Now, as all living organisms are born within it, and have ever subsisted within it, they were essentially embraced within eternity, yet, taken separately, each of them is a different essence. Taken together they form a unity. Consequently, the complex and synthetic totality of all these living organisms is Intelligence, which, thus containing all (beings), is the perfect and essential living Organism. When Intelligence allows itself to be contemplated by what derives existence from it, Intelligence appears thereto as the intelligible, and receives this predicate properly and truly. [Ennead VI,2 (43) 21]
As here below in the “mixture” (or blend, the soul), and the composition (the body) (which form our nature) there are two parts, soul and body, the totality of which forms the living organism; as the nature of the soul belongs to the intelligible world, and consequently does not belong to the same order of things as the sense-world, we shall, however difficult it may be, have to separate the soul from the sense-objects which we are here alone to consider. (We shall illustrate this by a parable). He who would wish to classify the inhabitants of a town according to their dignities and professions, would have to leave aside the foreign residents. As to the passions which arise from the union of the soul with the body, or, that the soul experiences because of the body, we shall later examine how they should be classified. This however must follow our study of the sense-objects. [Ennead VI,3 (44) 1]
But how shall we separate the accidents from sense-being, if it have no existence without dimension or quality? Of what will sense-being consist, if we remove from it dimension, figure (or outward appearance), color, dryness, and humidity? For sense-beings are qualified. The qualities which change simple into qualified “being” refer to something. Thus, it is not the entire fire which is being, but something of the fire, one of its parts. Now what is this part, if it be not matter? Sense-being, therefore, consists in the reunion of quality and matter; and being is constituted by the totality of these things blended in a single matter. Each thing taken separately will be quality or quantity, and so forth; but the thing whose absence makes “being” incomplete is a part of that being. As to the thing which is added to already complete being, it has its own place; and it is not lost in the blending which constitutes “being.” I do not say that such a thing, taken with others, is a being when it completes a matter of some particular size and quality, and that it is no more than a quality when it does not complete this mass; I say that even here below not everything is “being,” and that only the totality which embraces everything is “being.” Let none complain that we are constituting “being” as of that which is not being; for even the totality is not a veritable “being.” (Here this word is used in both sensual and intelligible senses, as a pun), and only offers the image of the veritable (Being), which possesses essence independently of all that refers to it, and itself produces the other things because it possesses veritable (Existence). Here below the substrate possesses essence only incompletely, and, far from producing other things, is sterile; it is only an adumbration, and onto this adumbration are reflected images which have only the appearance (instead of real existence.) [Ennead VI,3 (44) 8]
Bodies may also be distinguished by heat or dryness, wetness or cold, or in any other desired manner, by taking two qualities simultaneously, then considering these things as a composition and mixture, and ceasing at the combination thereof. Or, bodies may be divided in terrestrial bodies, that dwell on the earth, or distribute them according to their forms, and the differences of animals; by classifying not the animals themselves, but their bodies, which are their instruments, as it were. It is proper to establish a classification according to the forms, as it is equally reasonable to classify bodies according to their qualities, such as heat, cold, and so forth. If it be objected that bodies are constituted rather by their qualities, it may be answered that they are just as much classified by their blends, their colors, and their figures. When analyzing sense-being, it is not unreasonable to classify it according to the differences that appear to the senses. This (“being”) does not possess absolute (Essence); it is the totality of the matter and qualities which constitutes the sense-being, since we have said that its hypostatic existence consists in the union of the things perceived by the senses, and that it is according to the testimony of their senses that men believe in the existence of things. [Ennead VI,3 (44) 10]
As the existence of begotten things consists in perpetually acquiring (something or another), they will be annihilated by a removal of their future. An attribution of the future to the (intelligible) entities of a nature contrary (to begotten things), would degrade them from the rank of existences. Evidently they will not be consubstantial with existence, if this existence of theirs be in the future or past. The nature (“being”) of begotten things on the contrary consists in going from the origin of their existence to the last limits of the time beyond which they will no longer exist; that is in what their future consists. Abstraction of their future diminishes their life, and consequently their existence. That is also what will happen to the universe, in so far as it will exist; it aspires to being what it should be, without any interruption, because it derives existence from the continual production of fresh actualizations; for the same reason, it moves in a circle because it desires to possess intelligible nature (“being”). Such is the existence that we discover in begotten things, such is the cause that makes them ceaselessly aspire to existence in the future. The Beings that occupy the first rank and which are blessed, have no desire of the future, because they are already all that it lies in them to be, and because they possess all the life they are ever to possess. They have therefore nothing to seek, since there is no future for them; neither can they receive within themselves anything for which there might be a future. Thus the nature (“being”) of intelligible existence is absolute, and entire, not only in its parts, but also in its totality, which reveals no fault, which lacks nothing, and to which nothing that in any way pertains to nonentity could be added; for intelligible existence must not only embrace in its totality and universality all beings, but it must also receive nothing that pertains to nonentity. It is this disposition and nature of intelligible existence that constitutes the aeon (or eternity); for (according to Aristotle) this word is derived from “aei on,” “being continually.” [Ennead III,7 (45) 4]
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]
This is how Intelligence continues to make the world subsist. Pure Intelligence and Being in itself constitute the genuine (intelligible) World that is prior to everything, which has no extension, which is weakened by no division, which has no imperfection, even in its parts, for none of its parts are separated from its totality. This world is the universal Life and Intelligence. Its unity is both living and intelligent. In it each part reproduces the whole, its totality consists of a perfect harmony, because nothing within it is separate, independent, or isolated from anything else. Consequently, even if there were mutual opposition, there would be no struggle. Being everywhere one and perfect, the intelligible World is permanent and immutable, for it contains no internal reaction of one opposite on another. How could such a reaction take place in this world, since nothing is lacking in it? Why should Reason produce another Reason within it, and Intelligence produce another Intelligence merely because it was capable of doing so? If so, it would not, before having produced, have been in a perfect condition; it would produce and enter in motion because it contained something inferior. But blissful beings are satisfied to remain within themselves, persisting within their essence. A multiple action compromises him who acts by forcing him to issue from himself. The intelligible World is so blissful that even while doing nothing it accomplishes great things, and while remaining within itself it produces important operations. [Ennead III,2 (47) 1]
For not being beautiful this world should not be blamed; neither for not being the best of corporeal worlds; nor should the Cause, from which it derives its existence, be accused. To begin with, this world exists necessarily. It is not the work of a reflecting determination. It exists because a superior Being naturally begets it in His own likeness. Even if its creation were the result of reflective determination, it could not shame its author; for the divinity made the universe beautiful, complete and harmonious. Between the greater and lesser parts He introduced a fortunate accord. A person who would blame the totality of the world from consideration of its parts is therefore unjust. He should examine the parts in their relation to the totality, and see whether they be in accord and in harmony with it. Then the study of the whole should continue down to that of the least details. Otherwise criticism does not apply to the world as a whole, but only to some of its parts. For instance, we well know how admirable, as a whole, is man; yet we grant that there would be justification for criticism of a separate hair, or toe, or some of the vilest animals, or Thersites, as a specimen of humanity. [Ennead III,2 (47) 3]
We should not be surprised at water extinguishing fire, or at fire destroying some other element. Even this element was introduced to existence by some other element, and it is not surprising that it should be destroyed, since it did not produce itself, and was introduced to existence only by the destruction of some other element (as thought Heraclitus and the Stoics). Besides, the extinguished fire is replaced by another active fire. In the incorporeal heaven, everything is permanent; in the visible heaven, the totality, as well as the more important and the most essential parts, are eternal. The souls, on passing through different bodies, (by virtue of their disposition), themselves change on assuming some particular form; but, when they can do so, they stand outside of generation, remaining united to the universal Soul. The bodies are alive by their form, and by the whole that each of them constitutes (by its union with a soul), since they are animals, and since they nourish themselves; for in the sense-world life is mobile, but in the intelligible world it is immobile. Immobility necessarily begat movement, self-contained life was compelled to produce other life, and calm being naturally exhaled vibrating spirit. [Ennead III,2 (47) 4]
Further objections assert that propriety, order and justice demand the contrary of the existing state of affairs in the world, and that we could expect no less from a Providence that was wise. Even if it were a matter of moment to virtue or vice, it is unsuitable that the wicked should be the masters, and chiefs of state, and that the good should be slaves; for a bad prince commits the worst crimes. Moreover, the wicked conquer in battles, and force their prisoners to undergo the extremities of torments. How could such facts occur if indeed a divine Providence be in control? Although indeed in the production of some work (of art), it be especially the totality that claims attention, nevertheless, the parts must also obtain their due, especially when they are animated, living and reasonable; it is just that divine Providence should extend to everything, especially inasmuch as its duty is precisely to neglect nothing. In view of these objections we shall be forced to demonstrate that really everything here below is good, if we continue to insist that the sense-world depends on supreme Intelligence, and that its power penetrates everywhere. [Ennead III,2 (47) 6]
To begin with, we must remark that to show that all is good in the things mingled with matter (and therefore of sense), we must not expect to find in them the whole perfection of the World which is not soiled by matter, and is intelligible; nor should we expect to find in that which holds the second rank characteristics of that which is of the first. Since the world has a body, we must grant that this body will have influence on the totality, and expect no more than that Reason will give it that which this mixed nature was capable of receiving. For instance, if we were to contemplate the most beautiful man here below, we would be wrong in believing that he was identical with the intelligible Man, and inasmuch as he was made of flesh, muscles and bones, we would have to be satisfied with his having received from his creator all the perfection that could be communicated to him to embellish these bones, muscles and flesh, and to make the (“seminal) reason” in him predominate over the matter within him. [Ennead III,2 (47) 7]
As reason proceeds from Intelligence and Life, which possesses both fulness and unity, Reason does not possess the unity and fulness of Intelligence and Life. Consequently, Reason does not communicate the totality and universality of its essence to the beings to which it imparts itself. It, therefore, opposes its parts to each other, and creates them defective; whereby, Reason constitutes and begets war and struggle. Thus Reason is the universal unity, because it could not be the absolute unity. Though reason imply struggle, because it consists of parts, it also implies unity and harmony. It resembles the reason of a drama, whose unity contains many diversities. In a drama, however, the harmony of the whole results from its component contraries being co-ordinated in the unity of action, while, in universal Reason, it is from unity that the struggle of contraries arises. That is why we may well compare universal Reason to the harmony formed by contrary sounds, and to examine why the reasons of the beings also contain contraries. In a concert, these reasons produce low and high sounds, and, by virtue of the harmony, that constitutes their essence, they make these divers sounds contribute to unity, that is, to Harmony itself, the supreme Reason of which they are only parts. In the same way we must consider other oppositions in the universe, such as black and white, heat and cold, winged or walking animals, and reasonable and irrational beings. All these things are parts of the single universal Organism. Now if the parts of the universal Organism were often in mutual disagreement, the universal Organism, nevertheless, remains in perfect accord with itself because it is universal, and it is universal by the Reason that inheres in it. The unity of this Reason must therefore be composed of opposite reasons, because their very opposition somehow constitutes its essence. If the Reason (of the world) were not multiple, it would no longer be universal, and would not even exist any longer. Since it exists, Reason must, therefore, contain within itself some difference; and the greatest difference is opposition. Now if Reason contain a difference, and produce different things, the difference that exists in these things is greater than that which exists in Reason. Now difference carried to the highest degree is opposition. Therefore, to be perfect, Reason must from its very essence produce things not only different, but even opposed. [Ennead III,2 (47) 16]
Every individual, therefore, occupies, according to justice, the place he deserves, just as each string of the lyre is fixed to the place assigned to it by the nature of the sounds it is to render. In the universe everything is good and beautiful if every being occupy the place he deserves, if, for instance, he utter discordant sounds when in darkness and Tartarus; for such sounds fit that place. If the universe is to be beautiful, the individual must not behave “like a stone” in it; he must contribute to the unity of the universal harmony by uttering the sound suitable to him (as thought Epictetus). The sound that the individual utters is the life he leads, a life which is inferior in greatness, goodness and power (to that of the universe). The shepherd’s pipe utters several sounds, and the weakest of them, nevertheless, contributes to the total Harmony, because this harmony is composed of unequal sounds whose totality constitutes a perfect harmony. Likewise, universal Reason though one, contains unequal parts. Consequently, the universe contains different places, some better, and some worse, and their inequality corresponds to the inequality of the soul. Indeed, as both places and souls are different, the souls that are different find the places that are unequal, like the unequal parts of the pipe, or any other musical instrument. They inhabit different places, and each utters sounds proper to the place where they are, and to the universe. Thus what is bad for the individual may be good for the totality; what is against nature in the individual agrees with the nature in the whole. A sound that is feeble does not change the harmony of the universe, as — to use another example — one bad citizen does not change the nature of a well-regulated city; for often there is need of such a man in a city; he therefore fits it well. [Ennead III,2 (47) 17]
Indeed, the (supreme) Principle is that to which all other things relate, that in which they all simultaneously exist, thus constituting the totality. All things proceed from the Principle, while it remains wrapt in itself. Thus, from a single root, which remains wrapt in itself, issue a host of parts, each of which offers the image of their root under a different form. Some of them touch the root; others trend away from it, dividing and subdividing down to the branches, twigs, leaves and fruits; some abide permanently (like the branches); others swirl in a perpetual flux, like the leaves and fruits. These latter parts which swirl in a perpetual flux contain within themselves the (“seminal) reasons” of the parts from which they proceed (and which abide permanently); they themselves seem disposed to be little miniature trees; if they engendered before perishing, they would engender only that which is nearest to them. As to the parts (which abide permanently), and which are hollow, such as the branches, they receive from the root the sap which is to fill them; for they have a nature different (from that of the leaves, flowers, and fruits). Consequently, it is the branches’ extremities that experience “passions” (or modifications) which they seem to derive only from the contiguous parts. The parts contiguous to the Root are passive on one end, and active on the other; but the Principle itself is related to all. Although all the parts issue from the same Principle, yet they differ from each other more as they are more distant from the root. Such would be the mutual relations of two brothers who resemble each other because they are born from the same parents. [Ennead III,3 (48) 7]
Does pure Intelligence know itself by contemplating one of its parts by means of another part? Then one part will be the subject, and another part will be the object of contemplation; intelligence will not know itself. It may be objected that if intelligence be a whole composed of absolutely similar parts, so that the subject and the object of contemplation will not differ from each other; then, by the virtue of this similitude, on seeing one of its parts with which it is identical, intelligence will see itself; for, in this case, the subject does not differ from the object. To begin with, it is absurd to suppose that intelligence is divided into several parts. How, indeed, would such a division be carried out? Not by chance, surely. Who will carry it out? Will it be the subject or object? Then, how would the subject know itself if, in contemplation, it located itself in the object, since contemplation does not belong to that which is the object? Will it know itself as object rather than as subject? In that case it will not know itself completely and in its totality (as subject and object); for what it sees is the object, and not the subject of contemplation; it sees not itself, but another. In order to attain complete knowledge of itself it will, besides, have to see itself as subject; now, if it see itself as subject, it will, at the same time, have to see the contemplated things. But is it the (Stoic) “types” (or impressions) of things, or the things themselves, that are contained in the actualization of contemplation? If it be these impressions, we do not possess the things themselves. If we do possess these things, it is not because we separate ourselves (into subject and object). Before dividing ourselves in this way, we already saw and possessed these things. Consequently, contemplation must be identical with that which is contemplated, and intelligence must be identical with the intelligible. Without this identity, we will never possess the truth. Instead of possessing realities, we will never possess any more than their impressions, which will differ from the realities; consequently, this will not be the truth. Truth, therefore, must not differ from its object; it must be what it asserts. [Ennead V,3 (49) 5]
This Principle, therefore, is really indescribable. We are individualizing it in any statement about it. That which is above everything, even above the venerable Intelligence, really has no name, and all that we can state about Him is, that He is not anything. Nor can He be given any name, since we cannot assert anything about Him. We refer to Him only as best we can. In our uncertainty we say, “What does He not feel? is He not self-conscious? does He not know Himself?” Then we must reflect that by speaking thus we are thinking of things, that are opposed to Him of whom we are now thinking. When we suppose that He can be known, or that He possesses self-consciousness, we are already making Him manifold. Were we to attribute to Him thought, it would appear that He needed this thought. If we imagine thought as being within Him, thought seems to be superfluous. For of what does thought consist? Of the consciousness of the totality formed by the two terms that contribute to the act of thought, and which fuse therein. That is thinking oneself, and thinking oneself is real thinking; for each of the two elements of thought is itself an unity to which nothing is lacking. On the contrary, the thought of objects exterior (to Intelligence) is not perfect, and is not true thought. That which is supremely simple and supremely absolute stands in need of nothing. The absolute that occupies the second rank needs itself, and, consequently, needs to think itself. Indeed, since Intelligence needs something relatively to itself, it succeeds in satisfying this need, and consequently, in being absolute, only by possessing itself entirely. It suffices itself only by uniting all the elements constituting its nature (“being”), only by dwelling within itself, only by remaining turned towards itself while thinking; for consciousness is the sensation of manifoldness, as is indicated by the etymology of the word “con-scious-ness,” or, “conscience.” If supreme Thought occur by the conversion of Intelligence towards itself, it evidently is manifold. Even if it said no more than “I am existence,” Intelligence would say it as if making a discovery, and Intelligence would be right, because existence is manifold. Even though it should apply itself to something simple, and should say, “I am existence,” this would not imply successful grasp of itself or existence. Indeed, when Intelligence speaks of existence in conformity with reality, intelligence does not speak of it as of a stone, but, merely, in a single word expresses something manifold. The existence that really and essentially deserves the name of existence, instead of having of it only a trace which would not be existence, and which would be only an image of it, such existence is a multiple entity. Will not each one of the elements of this multiple entity be thought? No doubt you will not be able to think it if you take it alone and separated from the others; but existence itself is in itself something manifold. Whatever object you name, it possesses existence. Consequently, He who is supremely simple cannot think Himself; if He did, He would be somewhere, (which is not the case). Therefore He does not think, and He cannot be grasped by thought. [Ennead V,3 (49) 13]
How does He give them? Is it because He possesses them, or because He does not possess them? If it be because He does not possess them, how does He give what He does not possess? If it be because He does possess them, He is no longer simple. If He give what He does not possess, how is multiplicity born of Him? It would seem as if only one single thing could proceed from Him, unity; and even so one might wonder how anything whatever could be born of that which is absolutely one. We answer, in the same way as from a light radiates a luminous sphere (or, fulguration). But how can the manifold be born from the One? Because the thing that proceeds from Him must not be equal to Him, and so much the less, superior; for what is superior to unity, or better than Him? It must, therefore, be inferior to Him, and, consequently, be less perfect. Now it cannot be less perfect, except on condition of being less unitary, that is, more manifold. But as it must aspire to unity, it will be the “manifold one.” It is by that which is single that that which is not single is preserved, and is what it is; for that which is not one, though composite, cannot receive the name of existence. If it be possible to say what each thing is, it is only because it is one and identical. What is not manifold is not one by participation, but is absolute unity; it does not derive its unity from any other principle; on the contrary it is the principle to which other things owe that they are more or less single, according as they are more or less close to it. Since the characteristic of that which is nearest to unity is identity, and is posterior to unity, evidently the manifoldness contained therein, must be the totality of things that are single. For since manifoldness is therein united with manifoldness, it does not contain parts separated from each other, and all subsist together. Each of the things, that proceed therefrom, are manifold unity, because they cannot be universal unity. Universal unity is characteristic only of their principle (the intelligible Being), because itself proceeds from a great Principle which is one, essentially, and genuinely. That which, by its exuberant fruitfulness, begets, is all; on the other hand, as this totality participates in unity, it is single; and, consequently, it is single totality (universal unity). [Ennead V,3 (49) 15]
Does each soul include such a love in her being, and possess it as a hypostatic (form of existence)? Since the world-Soul possesses, as hypostasis (form of existence), the Love which is inherent in her being, our soul should also similarly possess, as hypostatic (form of existence), a love equally inherent in our being. Why should the same not obtain even with animals? This love inherent to the being of every soul is the guardian considered to be attached to each individual. It inspires each soul with the desires natural for her to experience; for, according to her nature, each soul begets a love which harmonizes with her dignity and being. As the universal Soul possesses universal Love, so do individual souls each possess her individual love. But as the individual souls are not separated from the universal Soul, and are so contained within her that their totality forms but a single soul, so are individual loves contained within the universal Love. On the other hand, each individual love is united to an individual soul, as universal Love is united to the universal Soul. The latter exists entire everywhere in the universe, and so her unity seems multiple; she appears anywhere in the universe that she pleases, under the various forms suitable to her parts, and she reveals herself, at will, under some visible form. [Ennead III,5 (50) 4]
When (Theodor) tells (Socrates) that evils would be annihilated if men practised (Socrates’) teachings, the latter answers that that is impossible, for evil is necessary even if only as the contrary of good. But how then can wickedness, which is the evil of man, be the contrary of good? Because it is the contrary of virtue. Now virtue, without being Good in itself, is still a good, a good which makes us dominate matter. But how can Good in itself, which is not a quality, have a contrary? Besides, why need the existence of one thing imply its contrary? Though we may grant that there is a possibility of the existence of the contrary of some things — as for instance, that a man in good health might become sick — there is no such necessity. Nor does Plato assert that the existence of each thing of this kind necessarily implies that of its contrary; he makes this statement exclusively of the Good. But how can there be a contrary to good, if the good be “being,” let alone “above being”? Evidently, in reference to particular beings, there can be nothing contrary to “being.” This is proved by induction; but the proposition has not been demonstrated as regards universal Being. What then is the contrary of universal Being, and first principles in general? The contrary of “being” must be nonentity; the contrary of the nature of the Good is the nature and principle of Evil. These two natures are indeed respectively the principles of goods and of evils. All their elements are mutually opposed, so that both these natures, considered in their totality, are still more opposed than the other contraries. The latter, indeed, belong to the same form, to the same kind, and they have something in common in whatever subjects they may be. As to the Contraries that are essentially distinguished from each other, whose nature is constituted of elements opposed to the constitutive elements of the other, those Contraries are absolutely opposed to each other, since the connotation of that word implies things as opposite to each other as possible. Measure, determination, and the other characteristics of the divine nature are the opposites of incommensurability, indefiniteness, and the other contrary things that constitute the nature of evil. Each one of these wholes, therefore, is the contrary of the other. The being of the one is that which is essentially and absolutely false; that of the other is genuine Being; the falseness of the one is, therefore, the contrary of the truth of the other. Likewise what pertains to the being of the one is the contrary of what belongs to the being of the other. We also see that it is not always true to say that there is no contrary to “being,” for we acknowledge that water and fire are contraries, even if they did not contain the common element of matter, of which heat and cold, humidity and dryness, are accidents. If they existed alone by themselves, if their being were complete without any common subject, there would still be an opposition, and an opposition of “being.” Therefore the things that are completely separate, which have nothing in common, which are as distant as possible, are by nature contrary. This is not an opposition of quality, nor of any kinds of beings; it is an opposition resulting from extreme distance, and from being composed of contraries, thereby communicating this characteristic to their elements. [Ennead I,8 (51) 6]
Some people hold that, by their movements, the planets produce not only poverty and wealth, health and sickness, but even beauty and ugliness; and, what is more, vices and virtues. At every moment the stars, as if they were irritated against men, (are said to) force them to commit actions concerning which no blame attaches to the men who commit them, since they are compelled thereto by the influence of the planets. It is even believed that the cause of the planets’ doing us evil or good is not that they love or hate us; but that their dispositions towards us is good or evil according to the localities through which they travel. Towards us they change their disposition according as they are on the cardinal points or in declination therefrom. It is even held that while certain stars are maleficent, others are beneficent, and that, nevertheless, the former frequently grant us benefits, while the latter often become harmful. Their effects differ according to their being in opposition, just as if they were not self-sufficient, and as if their quality depended on whether or not they looked at each other. Thus a star’s (influence) may be good so long as it regards another, and evil when it does so no longer. A star may even consider another in different manners, when it is in such or such an aspect. Moreover, the totality of the stars exercises a mingled influence which differs from the individual influences, just as several liquors may form a compound possessing qualities differing from either of the component elements. As these and similar assertions are freely made, it becomes important to examine each one separately. This would form a proper beginning for our investigation. [Ennead II,3 (52) 1]
Plato speaks of the lots, and conditions chosen by one turn of the spindle (of Clotho); he speaks also of a guardian who helps each man to fulfil his destiny. These conditions are the disposition of the universe at the time of the soul’s entrance into the body, the nature of their body, parents and fatherland; in short, the aggregate of external circumstances. Evidently all these things, in detail as well as in totality, are simultaneously produced and related by one of the Fates, namely Clotho. Lachesis then presents the conditions to the souls. Finally Atropos renders the accomplishment of all the circumstances of each destiny irrevocable. [Ennead II,3 (52) 15]
Does the universal Soul form all the beings successively, first man, then the horse, then some other animal, and last the wild beasts? Does she begin by producing earth and fire; then, seeing the co-operation of all these things which mutually destroy or assist each other, does she consider only their totality and their connections, without regarding the accidents which occur to them later? Does she limit herself to the reproduction of preceding generations of animals, and does she leave these exposed to the passions with which they inspire each other? [Ennead II,3 (52) 16]
It might here be objected that there could not be in the universe anything bad or contrary to nature; and it must be acknowledged that even what seems less good still has its utility. If this seem to admit that things that are less good contribute to the perfection of the universe, and that there is no necessity that all things be beautiful, it is only because the very contraries contribute to the perfection of the universe, and so the world could not exist without them. It is likewise with all living beings. The (“seminal) reason” necessarily produces and forms what is better; what is less good is contained in the “potentiality” of the “reasons,” and “actualized” in the begotten beings. The (universal) Soul has, therefore, no need to busy herself therewith, nor to cause the “reasons” to become active. For the “reasons” successfully subdue matter to what is better (the forms), even though matter alters what it receives by imparting a shock to the “reasons” that proceed from the higher principles. All things, therefore, form a harmonious totality because they simultaneously proceed from matter, and the “reasons” which beget them. [Ennead II,3 (52) 16]