The Parmenides — Plato
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ΠΑΡΜΕΝΙΔΗΣ
Translation/edition: Thomas Taylor (1804)
Language: English
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## The Parmenides¹

[126a] When we arrived at Athens from Clazomenia, the place of our abode, we fortunately met with Adimantus and Glaucus in the forum: and Adimantus, taking me by the hand, I am glad to see you (says he), Cephalus; and if you are in want of any thing here, in which we are able to assist you, I beg you would inform me. Upon which I replied, I came for this very purpose, as being indigent of your assistance. Tell me, then (says he), what you are in want of. [126b] And I replied, What was your brother’s name? for I do not remember: as he was almost a child when I first came here from Clazomenia; and, since that circumstance took place, a great length of time has intervened. But his father’s name was, I think, Pyrilampes. Entirely so (says he), and my brother’s name was Antiphon. [126c] But what is it you principally inquire after? I replied, These my fellow-citizens are very philosophic, and have heard that this Antiphon was frequently present with one Pythodorus, the familiar of Zeno, and that he treasured [126d] in his memory the discourses which Socrates, Zeno, and Parmenides had with each other, and which had frequently been heard by Pythodorus. You speak the truth (says he). These discourses, therefore (says I), we are desirous to hear. [126e] But this (says he) is no difficult matter to accomplish: for the young man has made them the subject of vehement meditation; and now with his grandfather, who bears the same name as himself, very much applies himself to equestrian affairs. But if it is necessary, we will go to him: for he just now went from hence home; and dwells very near, in Melita. [127a] After we had thus spoke, we proceeded to the house of Antiphon; and found him at home, giving a certain bridle to a coppersmith, to be furnished in a proper manner. But as soon as the smith was gone, and the brothers had told him the cause of our arrival, Antiphon knew me, in consequence of my former journey to this place, and very kindly saluted me: and upon our begging him to relate the discourses, at first he seemed unwilling to comply (for he said it was a very operose undertaking); [127b] but afterwards, however, he gratified our request. Antiphon, therefore, said that Pythodorus related that Zeno and Parmenides once came to celebrate the great Panathenæa: that Parmenides was very much advanced in years, extremely hoary, but of a beautiful and venerable aspect, and about sixty-five years of age; but that Zeno was nearly forty years old, was very tall and graceful to the view, and was reported to be the bosom friend of Parmenides. He likewise said that he met with them, together with Pythodorus, in the Ceramicus, beyond the walls; where also Socrates came, and many others with him, desiring to hear the writings of Zeno, for then for the first time they became acquainted with his writings: but that Socrates at that time was very young. That, in consequence of this, Zeno himself read to them. And Pythodorus further related that it happened Parmenides was gone out; and that but a small part of the discourse remained unfinished, when he himself entered, together with Parmenides and Aristotle, who was one of the thirty Athenians. That, in consequence of this, he heard but a little at that time; but that he had often before heard the whole discourse from Zeno.
[127c] He further added, that Socrates, upon hearing the latter part of Zeno’s discourse, entreated him to repeat the first hypothesis of his first discourse; [127d] and that, when he had repeated it, Socrates said—How is it you assert, O Zeno, that if beings are many, it is requisite that the same things should be both similar and dissimilar? But that this is impossible. For neither can things dissimilar be similar, nor things similar be dissimilar. Is not this what you assert? [127e] Zeno answered, It is. If, therefore, it is impossible that dissimilars should be similar, and similars dissimilar, is it not impossible that many things should have a subsistence? For, if there were many, they would suffer impossibilities. Is it not then the sole intention of your discourses to evince, by contesting through all things, that the many has no subsistence? And do you not consider each of your discourses as an argument in support of this opinion; and so think that you have produced as many arguments as you have composed discourses, to show that the many is not? Is not this what you say, or do I not rightly understand you? [128a] Upon which Zeno replied, You perceive excellently well the meaning of the whole book. That Socrates then said, I perceive, O Parmenides, that this Zeno does not only wish to connect himself in the bands of friendship with you, but to agree with you likewise in sentiments concerning the doctrines of the present discourse. For Zeno, in a certain respect, has written the same as yourself; though, by changing certain particulars, he endeavours to deceive us into an opinion that his assertions are different from yours. For you in your poems assert that the universe is one; and you produce beautiful and excellent arguments in support of this opinion: but Zeno says that the many is not, and delivers many and mighty arguments in defence of this assertion. As, therefore, you assert that the one is, and he, that the many has no subsistence; and each speaks in such a manner as to disagree totally according to appearance from one another, though you both nearly assert the same; on this account it is that your discourses seem to be above our comprehension. That Zeno said—Indeed, Socrates, so it is: [128b] but you do not perfectly apprehend the truth of my writings; though, like Laconic dogs, you excellently pursue and trace the meaning of the assertions. But this in the first place is concealed from you, that this discourse is not in every respect so venerable, that it was composed, as you say, for the purpose of concealing its real doctrines from men, as if effecting a thing of great importance: yet you have spoken something of that which happens to be the case. But indeed the truth of the matter is this: These writings were composed for the purpose of affording a certain assistance to the doctrine of Parmenides, against those who endeavour to defame it by attempting to show that if the one is many, ridiculous consequences must attend such an opinion; and that things contrary to the assertion must ensue.
[128c] This writing, therefore, contradicts those who say that the many is, and opposes this and many other opinions; as it is desirous to evince that the hypothesis which defends the subsistence of the many is attended with more [128d] ridiculous consequences than that which vindicates the subsistence of the one, if both are sufficiently examined. You are ignorant, therefore, Socrates, that this discourse, which was composed by me when a youth, through the love of contention, and which was privately taken from me, so that I was not able to consult whether or not it should be issued into the light—you are ignorant, I say, that it was not written through that desire of renown which belongs to a more advanced period of life, but through a juvenile desire of contention: though, as I have said, you do not conjecture amiss. [128e] I admit it (says Socrates); and I think the case is just as you have stated it. But satisfy me in the following particulars. Do you think that there is a certain form of similitude, itself subsisting from itself? And another which is contrary to this, and is that which is dissimilar? But that you and me, and other things which we call many, participate of these two? And that such things as participate of similitude become similar, so far as they participate? [129a] But those which participate of dissimilitude become dissimilar? And that those which participate of both become both? But if all things participate of both, which are contrary to each other, and become similar and dissimilar to each other through participating of both, is there any thing wonderful in the case? [129b] For, if any one should show that similars themselves become dissimilar, or dissimilars similar, I should think it would be a prodigy: but if he evinces that such things as participate both these suffer likewise both these, it does not appear to me, O Zeno, that there would be any thing absurd in the case; nor again, if any one should evince that all things are one, through their participating of the one, and at the same time many, through their participating multitude. But I should very much wonder if any one should show that that which is one is many, and that the many is one; [129c] and in a similar manner concerning all the rest: for, doubtless, he would produce a proper subject of admiration, who should evince that both genera and species suffer these contrary affections. But what occasion of wonder would there be, should any one show that I myself am both one and many? and should prove his assertion by saying, when he wishes to assert that I am many, that the parts on the right hand of me are different from those on the left, the anterior from the posterior, and in like manner the upward from the downward parts (for I think that I participate of multitude): [129d] but when he desires to show that I am one, should say, that as we are seven in number, I am one man, and participate of the one? so that he would by this means evince the truth of both these assertions. If any one, therefore, should endeavour to show that stones, wood, and all such particulars, are both many and one, we should say that he exhibits to our view such things as are many and one, but that he does not assert that the one is many, nor the many one; nor speak of any thing wonderful, but asserts that which is confessed by all men. But if any one should, in the first place, distribute the forms of things, concerning which I [129e] have just been speaking, separating them essentially apart from each other, such as similitude and dissimilitude, multitude and the one, and the rest of this kind, and should afterwards show himself able to mingle and separate them in themselves, I should be astonished (says he), O Zeno, in a wonderful manner. But it appears to me that we should strenuously labour in the investigation of these particulars: yet I should be much astonished if any one could solve this doubt, which is so profoundly involved in species; so as to be able no less clearly to explain this affair in the forms which are apprehended by the reasoning power, than in those belonging to visible objects, and which you have already discussed.
[130a] Pythodorus said, that when Socrates had thus spoken, he thought that Parmenides and Zeno seemed to be indignant at the several particulars of Socrates’s discourse; but that they bestowed the greatest attention on what he said, and frequently looking at each other smiled, as wondering at Socrates: [130b] and that, in consequence of his ceasing to speak, Parmenides said—How worthy, O Socrates, of admiration is your ardour in the pursuit of liberal disciplines! Tell me, therefore, have you separated, as you say, certain species apart by themselves, and likewise the participants of these species apart? And does there appear to you to be a certain similitude separate from that similitude which we possess, and a certain one and many, and all such other particulars, which you have just now heard mentioned by Zeno? [130c] That Socrates said, So it appears to me. And (that Parmenides said) does it also appear to you, that there is a certain species or form of justice, itself subsisting by itself; likewise of beauty and the good, and every thing of this kind? That Socrates said, It does. And likewise of all such things as we are composed from: so that there is a certain form of man², or of fire, or water? That Socrates answered—I have often been in doubt, O Parmenides, concerning these; whether it is necessary to speak of them in the same manner as of the former particulars, or in a different manner. And do you doubt, O Socrates, whether it is necessary to say that there is a certain form of every such particular as may appear to be ridiculous, I mean hair³, clay, and mud, or any thing else which is vile and abject; and that these forms are different from the particulars with which we are conversant? [130d] That Socrates said, I do not by any means think that the forms of these can be different from those which are the objects of our inspection: but is it not vehemently absurd to think that there is a certain form of these? For this has formerly disturbed me, whether or not something of this kind does not take place about every thing: but, after having been fixed for some time in this opinion, I have hastily withdrawn myself and fled away; fearing lest, falling into a certain abyss of trifles, I should utterly perish and be lost; but, returning from thence, I have seriously applied myself to consider those particulars, to which, as we have just now asserted, forms belong. That Parmenides then said, You are as yet but a young man⁴, O Socrates, and Philosophy has not yet received you into her embraces: for, in my opinion, when you are received by her, you will not despise any of these particulars: but now, on account of your juvenile age, you regard the opinions of men.
[130e] Tell me, then, does it appear to you, as you say, that there are certain forms, of which other things participating⁵ retain the appellations; as, for instance, that such things as participate of similitude are similars; of mag- nitude⁶, great; and that the participants of beauty and justice are beautiful and just? [131a] That Socrates replied, Entirely so. Does not every thing which participates either participate the whole form, or only a part of it? Or can there be any other mode of participation besides these? That Socrates said, How can there be? Does it then appear to you that the whole form⁷ is one in each individual of many things? Or what other opinion have you on this subject? That then Socrates said, What hinders, O Parmenides, but that it should be one? As it is, therefore, one and the same in things many and separate from each other, the whole will be at the same time one, and so itself will be separate from itself. [131b] That Socrates said, It would not be so: but just as if this form was day⁸, this being one and the same, is collectively present in many places, and yet is not any thing the more separate from itself; in the same manner, every form may be at once one and the same in all. That Parmenides then said, You have made, O Socrates, one and the same thing to be collectively present in many places, in a very pleasant manner; just as if, covering many men with a veil, you should say that there is one whole, together with the many. Do you not think that you would make an assertion of this kind? That Socrates said, Perhaps so. Will, therefore, the whole veil subsist together with each man, or a different part of it with each individual? A different part only. [131c] That Parmenides said, These forms then, O Socrates, are divisible⁹, and their participants participate only parts of them: and hence there will no longer be one whole form in each individual, but only one part of each form. So indeed it seems. Are you then willing to assert that one form is in reality divided, and that nevertheless it is still one? That Socrates said, By no means. [131d] For see (said Parmenides), whether upon dividing magnitude¹⁰ itself, it would not be absurd that each of the many things which are great, should be great by a part of magnitude less than magnitude itself? Entirely so, said Socrates. But what then? Can that which participates a part of equal¹¹ itself, be equal to any thing by this its part of equality, which is less than equal itself? It is impossible.
[131e] But some one of us must possess a part of this small quantity; and that which is small itself¹² will be greater than this, this small quantity being a part of small itself; and thus small itself will be that which is greater: but that to which this part which was taken away is added, will become smaller, and not greater than it was before. That Socrates said—This cannot take place. But after what manner¹³ then, O Socrates, can individuals participate of forms, if they are neither able to participate according to parts, nor according to wholes? That Socrates said, It does not appear to me, by Jupiter, to be in any respect an easy matter to define a circumstance of this kind. [132a] But what will you say to this? To what? I think that you consider every form as one¹⁴, on this account; because, since a certain multitude of particulars seems to you to be great, there may perhaps appear to him who surveys them all to be one idea, from whence you think them to be one great thing. That then Socrates said, You speak the truth. But what if you consider the great¹⁵ itself, and other things which are great, in the same manner, with the eye of the soul, will not again a certain something which is great appear to you, through which all these necessarily seem to be great? It seems so. [132b] Hence, another form of magnitude will become apparent, besides magnitude itself and its participants: and besides all these another magnitude, through which all these become great; so that each of your forms will no longer be one thing, but an infinite multitude. But that upon this Socrates replied, Perhaps, O Parmenides, each of these forms is nothing more than an intellectual concep- tion¹⁷, which ought not to subsist any where but in the soul; and if this be the case, each will be one: and the consequences just now mentioned will not ensue. That said, What then? is each of these conceptions¹⁸ one, but at the same time a conception of nothing? That Socrates said, This is impossible. It is a conception, therefore, of something? [132c] Certainly. Of being or of non-being? Of being. Will it not be of one particular thing, which that conception understands as one certain idea in all things? Undoubtedly. But now will not that which is understood to be one, be a form always the same in all things? This seems to be necessary. That Parmenides then said, But what, is it not necessary, since other things participate of forms, that each should be composed from intellectual conceptions¹⁹; and thus all of them be endued with intellection? Or will you assert that though they are intellectual conceptions, yet they understand nothing? But that Socrates said, This is by no means rational. [132d] But, O Parmenides, the affair appears to me to take place, in the most eminent degree, as follows: that these forms are established paradigms²⁰, as it were, in nature; but that other things are assimilate d to these, and are their resemblances: and that the participation of forms by other things, is nothing more than an assimilation to these forms. [132e] If any thing, therefore, becomes similar²¹ to a form, can it be possible that the form should not be similar to the assimilated, so far as the assimilated nature is rendered similar to the form? Or can any reason be assigned why similar should not be similar to similar? There cannot. Is there not, therefore, a mighty necessity that the similar to similar should participate of one and the same form? It is necessary. But will not that through the participation of which similars become similars be form itself? Entirely so. Nothing, therefore, can be similar to a form, nor a form to any other. For in this case another form will always appear besides some particular form: and if this again should become similar to another, another would be required; and a new form would never cease to take place, as long as any form becomes similar to its participant. You speak most truly. Hence, then, other things do not participate of forms through similitude²²; but it is necessary to seek after something else through which they participate. So it seems.
[133a] That Parmenides then said, Do you see, O Socrates, how great a doubt arises, if any one defines forms as having an essential subsistence by themselves? [133b] I do very much so. Know, then, that you do not apprehend what dubious²³ consequences are produced, by placing every individual form of beings separate from its participants. But that Socrates said, How do you mean? That Parmenides answered, There are many other doubts²⁴, indeed, but this is the greatest: if any one should assert that it is not proper forms should be known, if they are such as we have said they ought to be, it is impossible to demonstrate that he who asserts this is deceived, unless he who doubts is skilled in a multitude of particulars, and is naturally of a good disposition. But he should be willing to pursue him closely who endeavours to support his opinion by a multitude of far-fetched arguments: though, after all, he who contends that forms cannot be known will remain unpersuaded. That Socrates said, In what respect²⁵, O Parmenides? [133c] Because, O Socrates, I think that both you and any other, who establishes the essence of each form as subsisting by itself, must allow, in the first place, that no one of these subsists in us. For (that Socrates said) how if it did, could it any longer subsist itself by itself? That Parmenides replied, You speak well. But will you not admit that such ideas as are, with relation²⁶ to each other, such as they are, possess also their essence with respect to themselves, and not with reference to things subsisting among us, whether they are resemblances, or in whatever manner you may establish such things; each of which, while we participate, we distinguish by some peculiar appellation? But that the things subsisting among us, and which are synonymous to these, subsist also with reference to each other, and not with relation to forms; and belong to themselves, but not to those which receive with them a common appellation. [133d] That then Socrates said, How do you mean? As if, Parmenides answered, some one of us should be the master²⁷ or servant of any one; he who is master is not the master of servant, nor is he who is servant, servant of master; but he sustains both these relations, as being a man; while, in the mean time, dominion itself is that which it is from its relation to servitude; and servitude, in a similar manner, is servitude with reference to dominion. But the ideas with which we are conversant possess no power over the ideas which subsist by themselves, nor have they any authority over us: but I assert that they subsist from themselves, and with relation to themselves; and ours, in a similar manner, with relation to themselves.
[133e] Do you understand what I say? That Socrates replied, Entirely so. [134a] That Parmenides then said, Is not science²⁸ itself, so far as it is such, the science of truth²⁹ itself? Perfectly so. But will each of the sciences which is, be the science of each of the things which are? Certainly it will. But will not our science³⁰ be conversant with the truth which subsists among us? [134b] And will not each of our sciences be the science of that being which happens to reside with us? It is necessary that it should be so. But you have granted that we do not possess forms³¹, and that they are not things with which we are conversant? Certainly not. Is each genus³² of beings known to be what it is, through the form itself of science? Undoubtedly. But this form we do not possess? By no means. No form, therefore, is known by us, as we do not participate of science itself? It does not appear it can. [134c] The beautiful³³ itself, therefore, and the good itself, and all such things which we have considered as being ideas, are unknown to us? So it seems. But survey this, which is yet still more dire³⁴. What? You will say, perhaps, that if there is any certain genus of science, it is much more accurate than the science which resides with us; and that this is likewise true of beauty, and every thing else? Certainly. If, therefore, any one possesses science itself, will you not assert that no one possesses the most accurate science more than a God³⁷? [134d] It is necessary so to assert. But can a God, being such as he is, know our affairs through possessing science itself? Why should he not? That Parmenides said, Because it has been confessed by us, O Socrates, that neither do those forms possess the power which is peculiar to them, through relation to our concerns, nor ours from relation to theirs; but that the forms in each division are referred to themselves. It was admitted by us. [134e] If, therefore, there is the most accurate dominion with Divinity, and the most accurate science, the dominion of the Gods will not rule over us, nor will their science take cognizance of us, or of any of our concerns; and in a similar manner, we shall not rule over them by our dominion, nor know any thing divine through the assistance of our science. And again, in consequence of the same reasoning, they will neither, though Gods³⁸, be our governors, nor have any knowledge of human concerns. But would not the discourse be wonderful in the extreme, which should deprive Divinity of knowledge? [135a] That Parmenides said, These, O Socrates, and many other consequences besides these, must necessarily³⁹ happen to forms, if they are the ideas of things, and if any one separates each form apart from other things; so that any one who hears these assertions, may doubt and hesitate whether such forms have any subsistence; or if they do subsist in a most eminent degree, whether it is not abundantly necessary that they should be unknown⁴⁰ by the human nature. Hence he who thus speaks may seem to say something to the purpose; and as we just now said, it may be considered as a wonderful⁴¹ thing, on account of the difficulty of being persuaded, and as the province of a man⁴² of a very naturally good disposition, to be able to perceive that there is a certain genus of every thing, and an essence itself subsisting by itself: but he will deserve still greater admiration, who, after having made this discovery, shall be able to teach another how to discern and distinguish all these in a becoming manner. That then Socrates said, I assent to you, O Parmenides, for you entirely speak agreeably to my opinion.
[135b] That Parmenides further added, But indeed, O Socrates, if any one on the contrary takes away the forms of things, regarding all that has now been said, and other things of the same kind, he will not find where to turn his dianoëtic⁴³ part, while he does not permit the idea of every thing which exists to be always the same, and by this means entirely destroys the dialectic power of the soul: but you also seem in this respect to perceive perfectly the same with myself. [135c] That Socrates answered, You speak the truth. What then will you do with respect to philosophy? Where will you turn yourself, being ignorant of these? Indeed I do not seem to myself to know at present. That Parmenides said, Before you exercise⁴⁴ yourself in this affair, O Socrates, you should endeavour to define what the beautiful, the just, and the good are, and each of the other forms: for I before perceived the necessity of your accomplishing this, when I heard you discoursing with Aristotle. Indeed that ardour of yours, by which you are impelled to disputation, is both beautiful⁴⁵ and divine; but collect yourself together, and while you are young more and more exercise yourself in that science, which appears useless to the many, and is called by them empty loquacity; for if you do not, the truth will elude your pursuit.
[135d] That Socrates then said, What method of exercise⁴⁶ is this, O Parmenides? And that Parmenides replied, It is that which you have heard Zeno employing: but besides this, while you was speaking with Zeno, I admired your asserting that you not only suffered yourself to contemplate the wandering⁴⁷ which subsists about the objects of sight, but likewise that which takes place in such things as are especially apprehended by reason, and which some one may consider as having a real subsistence. For it appears to me (said Socrates), that after this manner it may without difficulty be proved, that there are both similars and dissimilars, or any thing else which it is the province of beings to suffer. [135e] That Parmenides replied, You speak well: but it is necessary that, besides this, you should not only consider if each of the things supposed is⁴⁸, what will be the consequences from the hypothesis, but likewise what will result from supposing that it is not, if you wish to be more exercised in this affair. How do you mean⁴⁹ (said Socrates)? [136a] As if (said Parmenides) you should wish to exercise yourself in this hypothesis of Zeno, if there are many things, what ought to happen both to the many with reference to themselves, and to the one; and to the one with respect to itself, and to the many: and again, if many are not, to consider what will happen both to the one and to the many, as well to themselves as to each other. And again, if he should suppose if similitude⁵⁰ is, or if it is not, what will happen from each hypothesis, both to the things supposed and to others, and to themselves and to each other; [136b] and the same method of proceeding must take place concerning the dissimilar, motion⁵¹ and permanency, generation ⁵² and corruption, being and non-being: and, in one word, concerning every thing which is supposed either to be⁵³ or nor to be, or influenced in any manner by any other passion, it is necessary to consider the consequences both to itself and to each individual of other things, which you may select for this purpose, and towards many, and towards all things in a similar manner; and again, how other things are related to themselves, and to another which you establish, whether you consider that which is the subject of your hypothesis as having a subsistence or as not subsisting; if, being perfectly exercised, you design through proper media to perceive the truth.
[136c] That Socrates then said, You speak, O Parmenides, of an employment which it is impossible to accomplish, nor do I very much understand what you mean; but why do you not establish a certain hypothesis yourself, and enter on its discussion, that I may be the better instructed in this affair? [136d] That Parmenides replied, You assign, O Socrates, a mighty labour⁵⁴ to a man so old as myself! Will you, then, O Zeno (said Socrates), discuss something for us? [136e] And then Pythodorus related that Zeno, laughing, said—We must request Parmenides, O Socrates, to engage in this undertaking; for, as he says, it is no trifling matter; or do you not see the prodigious labour of such a discussion? If, therefore, many⁵⁶ were present, it would not be proper to make such a request; for it is unbecoming, especially for an old man, to discourse about things of this kind before many witnesses. For the many are ignorant that, without this discursive progression and wandering through all things, it is impossible, by acquiring the truth, to obtain the possession of intellect. I, therefore, O Parmenides, in conjunction with Socrates, beg that you would undertake a discussion, which I have not heard for a long time. But Zeno having made this request, Antiphon said that Pythodorus related that he also, and Aristotle, and the rest who were present, entreated Parmenides to exhibit that which he spoke of, and not to deny their request. [137a] That then Parmenides said, It is necessary to comply with your entreaties, though I should seem to myself to meet with the fate of the Ibycean⁵⁷ horse, to whom as a courser, and advanced in years, when about to contend in the chariot races, and fearing through experience for the event, Ibycus comparing himself, said—Thus also I that am so old, am compelled to return to the subjects of my love; in like manner, I appear to myself to dread vehemently the present undertaking, when I call to mind the manner in which it is requisite to swim over such, and so great a sea of discourse: but yet it is necessary to comply, especially as it is the request of Zeno, for we are one and the same. Whence then shall we begin⁵⁸; and what shall we first of all suppose? Are you willing, since it seems we must play a very serious game, that I should begin from myself, and my own⁵⁹ hypothesis, supposing concerning the one itself, whether the one is, or whether it is not, what ought to be the consequence? That Zeno said, By all means. Who then (said Parmenides) will answer to me? Will the youngest among you do this?
[137b] For the labour will be very little for him to answer what he thinks; and his answer will at the same time afford me a time for breathing in this arduous investigation. [137c] That then Aristotle said, I am prepared to attend you, O Parmenides; for you may call upon me as being the youngest. Ask me, therefore, as one who will answer you. That Parmenides said, Let us then begin. If one⁶⁰ is, is it not true that the one will not be many? For how can it be? It is necessary, therefore, that there should neither be any part belonging to it, nor that it should be a whole⁶³. Why? Is not a part a part of a whole? Certainly. But what is a whole? Is not that to which no part is wanting a whole? Entirely so. From both these consequences, therefore, the one would be composed of parts, being a whole and possessing parts? It is necessary it should be so. [137d] And so both ways the one will be many, and not one. True. But it is necessary that it should not be many, but one. It is necessary⁶⁴. Hence, it will neither be a whole, nor possess parts, if the one is one. It will not. If, therefore, it has no part, it neither possesses beginning, middle, nor end⁶⁵; for such as these would be its parts? Right. But end and beginning are the bounds of every thing? How should they not? The one, therefore, is infinite⁶⁶, if it has neither beginning nor end? Infinite. And without figure⁶⁷, therefore, for it neither participates of the round⁶⁸ figure nor the straight. Why not? For the round figure is that, the extremities of which are equally distant from the middle. Certainly. And the straight figure is that, the middle part of which is situated before, or in the view of both the extremes? It is so. Will not, therefore, the one consist of parts⁶⁹, and be many, whether it participates of a straight or round figure? Entirely so.
[137e] It is, therefore, neither straight nor circular, since it is without parts. [138a] Right. And indeed, being such, it will be no where⁷⁰; for it will neither be in another, nor in itself. How so? For, being in another, it would after a manner be circularly comprehended by that in which it is, and would be touched⁷¹ by it in many places: but it is impossible that the one which is without parts, and which does not participate of a circle, should be touched by a circle in many places. Impossible. [138b] But if it were in itself it would also contain itself, since it is no other than itself which subsists in itself: for it is impossible that any thing should not be comprehended ⁷² by that in which it is. It is impossible. Would not, therefore, that which contains be one thing, and that which is contained another? For the same whole⁷³ cannot at the same time suffer and do both these: and thus the one would no longer be one, but two. It certainly would not. The one, therefore, is not any where⁷⁴, since it is neither in itself nor in another. [138c] It is not. But consider whether thus circumstanced it can either stand or be moved⁷⁵. Why can it not? Because whatever is moved is either locally moved, or suffers alteration⁷⁶; for these alone are the genera of motion. Certainly. But if the one should be altered from itself, it is impossible that it should remain in any respect the one. Impossible. It will not therefore be moved according to alteration? It appears that it will not. But will it be moved locally⁷⁷? Perhaps so. But indeed if the one is moved locally, it will either be carried round in the same circle, or it will change one place for another. Necessarily so. But ought not that which is carried round in a circle to stand firm in the middle, and to have the other parts of itself rolled about the middle? And can any method be devised by which it is possible that a nature which has neither middle nor parts can be circularly carried about the middle? There cannot be any. But if it changes its place⁷⁹, would it not become situated elsewhere, and thus be moved? In this case it would. Has it not appeared to be impossible that the one should be in any thing?
[138d] It has. Is it not much more impossible that it should become situated in any thing? I do not understand how you mean. If any thing is becoming to be in any thing, is it not necessary that it should not yet be in it, since it is becoming to be; [138e] nor yet entirely out of it, since it has already become? It is necessary. If therefore this can take place in any other thing, it must certainly happen to that which possesses parts; for one part of it will be in this thing, but another out of it: but that which has no parts cannot by any means be wholly within or without any thing. It is true. But is it not much more impossible that that which neither has parts nor is a whole can be becoming to be in any thing; since it can neither subsist in becoming to be according to parts, nor according to a whole? [139a] So it appears. Hence it will neither change its place by going any where⁸⁰, nor that it may become situated in any thing; nor, through being carried round in that which is the same, will it suffer any alteration. It does not appear that it can. The one therefore is immovable, according to every kind of motion. Immovable. But we have likewise asserted⁸¹ that it is impossible for the one to be in any thing. We have said so. It can never therefore be in same. Why? Because it would now be in that in which same is. Entirely so. But the one can neither be in itself nor in another. It cannot. The one therefore is never in same. It does not appear that it is. [139b] But as it is never in same, it can neither be at rest nor stand still. In this case it cannot. The one, therefore, as it appears, neither stands still nor is moved. It does not appear that it can. [139c] Nor will it be the same either with another⁸², or with itself; nor again different either from itself or from another. How so? For, if different from itself⁸⁴, it would be different from the one, and so would not be the one. True. And if it should be the same with another⁸⁵, it would be that thing and would not be itself; so that neither could it thus be the one, but it would be something different from the one. It could not indeed. But, if it is the same with another, must it not be different from itself? It must. But it will not be different⁸⁶ from another while it is the one. For it does not belong to the one to be different from another, but to that alone which is different from another, and to no other.
[139c] Right. In consequence, therefore, of its being the one, it will not be another; or do you think that it can? Certainly not. [139d] But if it is not different from another, neither will it be different from itself. But if not different from itself, it will not be that which is different; and being in no respect that which is different, it will be different from nothing. Right. Nor yet will it be the same⁸⁷ with itself. Why not? Is the nature of the one the same with that of same? Why? Because, when any thing becomes the same with any thing, it does not on this account become one. But what then? That which becomes the same with many things must necessarily become many, and not one. True. But if the one and same differ in no respect, whenever any thing becomes same it will always become the one, and whenever it becomes the one it will be same. Entirely so. [139e] If, therefore, the one should be the same with itself, it would be to itself that which is not one; and so that which is one will not be one. But this indeed is impossible. It is impossible, therefore, for the one to be either different from another, or the same with itself. Impossible. And thus the one will neither be different⁸⁸ nor the same, either with respect to itself or another. It will not. But neither will it be similar⁸⁹ to any thing, or dissimilar either to itself or to another. Why not? Because the similar is that which in a certain respect suffers⁹⁰ same. Certainly. But it has appeared that same is naturally separate from the one. It has appeared so. But if the one should suffer any thing except being the one which is, it would become more than the one: but this is impossible. Certainly. [140a] In no respect, therefore, can the one suffer to be the same, either with another or with itself. It does not appear that it can. It cannot, therefore, be similar either to another or to itself. So it seems. Nor yet can the one suffer to be another; for thus it would suffer to be more than the one. More, indeed. But that which suffers to be different, either from itself or from another, will be dissimilar either to itself or to another, if that which suffers same is similar. Right. But the one, as it appears, since it in no respect suffers different, can in no respect be dissimilar either to itself or to another. It certainly cannot. The one, therefore, will neither be similar nor dissimilar, either to another or to itself. It does not appear that it can.
[140b] But since it is such, it will neither be equal⁹¹ nor unequal, either to itself or to another. How so? If it were equal, indeed, it would be of the same⁹² measures with that to which it is equal. [140c] Certainly. But that which is greater or lesser than the things with which it is commensurate, will possess more measures than the lesser quantities, but fewer than the greater. Certainly. But to those to which it is incommensurable, with respect to the one part, it will consist of lesser; and with respect to the other, of greater measures. How should it not? Is it not, therefore, impossible that that which does not participate of same should either be of the same measures, or admit any thing in any respect the same? It is impossible. It will, therefore, neither be equal to itself nor to another, if it does not consist of the same measures. It does not appear that it will. [140d] But if it consists of more or fewer measures, it will be of as many parts as there are measures; and so again it will no longer be the one, but as many as there are measures. Right. But if it should be of one measure, it would become equal to that measure: but it has appeared that the one cannot be equal to any thing. It has appeared so. The one, therefore, neither participates of one measure, nor of many, nor of a few; nor (since it in no respect participates of same) can it ever, as it appears, be equal to itself or to another, nor again greater or lesser either than itself or another. It is in every respect so.
[140e] But what? Does it appear that the one can be either older⁹³ or younger, or be of the same age? What should hinder? If it had in any respect the same⁹⁴ age, either with itself or with another, it would participate equally of time and similitude, which we have nevertheless asserted the one does not participate. We have asserted so. And this also we have said, that it neither participates of dissimilitude nor inequality. Entirely so. [141a] How, therefore, being such, can it either be older or younger than any thing, or possess the same age with any thing? It can in no respect. The one, therefore, will neither be younger nor older, nor will it be of the same age, either with itself or with another. It does not appear that it will. Will it not, therefore, be impossible that the one should be at all in time, if it be such? Or, is it not necessary that, if any thing is in time, it should always become older than itself? It is necessary. But is not that which is older⁹⁵, always older than the younger? What then? [141b] That, therefore, which is becoming to be older than itself, is at the same time becoming to be younger than itself, if it is about to have that through which it may become older. How do you say? Thus: It is requisite that nothing should subsist in becoming to be different from another, when it is already different, but that it should be now different from that which is different, have been from that which was, and will be from that which is to be hereafter: but from that which is becoming to be different, it ought neither to have been, nor to be hereafter, nor to be, but to subsist in becoming to be different, and no otherwise. It is necessary. But the older differs from the younger, and no other. [141c] Certainly. Hence, that which is becoming to be older than itself, must necessarily at the same time subsist in becoming to be younger than itself. It seems so. But likewise it ought not to subsist in becoming to be in a longer time than itself, nor yet in a shorter; but in a time equal to itself it should subsist in becoming to be, should be, have been, and be hereafter. For these are necessary. It is necessary, therefore, as it appears, that such things as are in time, and participate an affection of this kind, should each one possess the same age with itself, and should subsist in becoming to be both older and younger than itself. [141d] It seems so. But no one of these passions belongs to the one. None. Neither, therefore, is time present with it, nor does it subsist⁹⁶ in any time. It does not, indeed, according to the decisions of reason. What then? Do not the terms it was⁹⁷, it has been, it did become, seem to signify the participation of the time past? Certainly. And do not the terms it will be, it may become, and it will be generated, signify that which is about to be hereafter? Certainly. [141e] But are not the terms it is, and it is becoming to be, marks of the present time? Entirely so. If then the one participates⁹⁸ in no respect of any time, it neither ever was, nor has been, nor did become: nor is it now generated, nor is becoming to be, nor is, nor may become hereafter, nor will be generated, nor will be. It is most true. Is it possible, therefore, that any thing can participate of essence⁹⁹, except according to some one of these? It is not. In no respect, therefore, does the one participate of essence. It does not appear that it can. The one, therefore, is in no respect. [142a] So it seems. Hence, it is not in such a manner as to be one, for thus it would be being, and participate of essence: but, as it appears, the one neither is one nor is, if it be proper to believe in reasoning of this kind. It appears so. But can any thing either belong to, or be affirmed of, that which is not? How can it? Neither, therefore, does any name belong to it, nor discourse, nor any science, nor sense, nor opinion. It does not appear that there can. Hence, it can neither be named, nor spoken of, nor conceived by opinion, nor be known, nor perceived by any being. So it seems. Is it possible, therefore, that these things can thus take place about the one? It does not appear to me that they can.
[142a] Are you therefore [142b] willing that we should return again to the hypothesis from the beginning, and see whether or not by this means any thing shall appear to us different from what it did before? I am entirely willing. Have we not therefore declared if the one is, what circumstances ought to happen to it? Is it not so? Certainly. But consider from the beginning, if the one is, can it be possible that it should be, and yet not participate of essence? It cannot. Will not essence therefore be the essence of the one, but not the same with the one? for, if it were the same, it would not be the essence of the one, nor would the one participate of essence; but it would be all one to say the one is, and one one. But now our hypothesis is not if one, what ought to happen, but if the one is—Is it not so? Entirely so. Does it not signify that the term is is something different from the one? Necessarily. If, therefore, any one should summarily assert that the one is, this would be no other one than that which participates of essence. Certainly.
[142c] Again, therefore, let us say, if the one is, what will happen. Consider then whether it is not necessary that this hypothesis should signify such a one as possesses parts? [142d] How? Thus. If the term it is is spoken of one being, and the one, of being which is one, and essence is not the same with the one, but each belongs to that same one being which we have supposed, is it not necessary that the whole of it should be one being, but that its parts should be the one and to be? It is necessary. Whether, therefore, should we call each of these parts a part alone, or a part of the whole? Each should be called a part of the whole. That which is one, therefore, is a whole, and possesses a part. Entirely so. [142e] What then? Can each of these parts of one being, viz. the one and being, desert each other, so that the one shall not be a part of being, or being shall not be a part of the one? It cannot be. Again, therefore, each of the parts will contain both one and being, and each part will at least be composed from two parts; and, on the same account, whatever part takes place will always possess these two parts: for the one will always contain being, and being the one; so that two things will always be produced, and no part will ever be one. Entirely so. Will not, therefore, one being thus become an infinite multitude? So it seems.
[143a] But proceed, and still further consider this. What? We have said that the one participates of essence, so far as it is being. We have said so. And on this account one being appears to be many. It does so. [143b] But what then? If we receive dianoëtically that one which we said participates of essence, and apprehend it alone by itself without that which we have said it participates, will it appear to be one alone? Or will this also be many? I think it will be one. But let us consider another certain circumstance. It is necessary that its essence should be one thing, and itself another thing, if the one does not participate of essence; but as essence it participates of the one. It is necessary. If, therefore, essence is one thing, and the one another thing, neither is the one, so far as the one, different from essence, nor essence, so far as essence, different from the one; but they are different from each other through that which is different and another. Entirely so. So that different is neither the same with the one nor with essence. [143c] How can it? What, then, if we should select from them, whether if you will essence and different, or essence and the one, or the one and different, should we not, in each assumption, select certain things which might very properly be denominated both these? How do you mean? After this manner: Is there not that which we call essence? There is. And again, that which we denominate the one? And this also. Is not, therefore, each of them denominated? Each. But what, when I say essence and the one, do I not pronounce both these? Entirely so. And if I should say essence and different, or different and the one, should I not perfectly, in each of these, pronounce both? [143d] Certainly. But can those things which are properly denominated both, be both, and yet not two? They cannot. And can any reason be assigned, why of two things each of them should not be one? There cannot. As, therefore, these two subsist together, each of them will be one. It appears so. [143e] But if each of them is one, and the one is placed together with them, by any kind of conjunction, will not all of them become three? Certainly. But are not three odd, and two even? How should they not? But what then? Being two, is it not necessary that twice should be present? And being three, thrice; since twice one subsists in two, and thrice one in three? It is necessary. But if there are two and twice, is it not necessary that there should be twice two? And if there are three and thrice, that there should be thrice three? How should it not? But what, if there are three and twice, and two and thrice, is it not necessary that there should be thrice two and twice three? Entirely so. [144a] Hence, there will be the evenly even, and the oddly odd; and the oddly even, and the evenly odd. It will be so. If, therefore, this be the case, do you think that any number will be left which is not necessarily there? By no means. If, therefore, the one is, it is also necessary that there should be number¹⁰⁶. It is necessary. But if number is, it is necessary that the many should subsist, and an infinite multitude of beings: or do you think that number, infinite in multitude, will also participate of essence? By all means I think so. If, therefore, every number participates of essence, will not each part also of number participate of essence? Certainly. [144b] Essence, therefore, will be distributed through all things which are many, and will not desert any being, whether the least or the greatest: for how can essence be absent from any being? In no respect. [144c] Essence, therefore, is distributed as much as possible into the least and the greatest, and into all things every way, and is divided the most of all things, and possesses infinite parts. It is so. Very many, therefore, are its parts. Very many, indeed. But what, is there any one of these which is a part of essence, and yet is not one part? But how can this be? But if it is, I think it must always be necessary, as long as it is, that it should be a certain one; but that it cannot possibly be nothing. It is necessary. The one, therefore, is present with every part of essence, deserting no part, whether small or great, or in whatever manner it may be affected. It is so. [144d] Can one being, therefore, be a whole, subsisting in many places at once? Consider this diligently. I do consider it, and I see that it is impossible. It is divided, therefore, since it is not a whole; for it can no otherwise be present with all the parts of essence, than in a divided state. Certainly. But that which is divisible ought necessarily to be so many as its parts. It ought. [144e] We did not, therefore, just now speak truly, when we said that essence was distributed into very many parts; since it is not divided into more parts than the one, but into parts equal to those of the one: for neither does being desert the one, nor the one, being: but these two always subsist, equalized through all things. It appears to be entirely so. The one, therefore, which is distributed by essence, is many and an infinite multitude. So it appears. One being, therefore, is not only many, but it is likewise necessary that the one which is distributed by essence should be many. Entirely so.
[145a] And, indeed, in consequence of the parts being parts of a whole, the one will be defined according to a whole: or are not the parts comprehended by the whole? Necessarily so. But that which contains will be a bound. How should it not? One being, therefore, is in a certain respect both one and many, whole and parts, finite and infinite in multitude. It appears so. As it is bounded, therefore, must it not also have extremes? It is necessary. But what, if it be a whole, must it not also have a beginning, middle, and end? Or can there be any whole without these three? And if any one of these be wanting, can it be willing to be any longer a whole? It cannot. The one, therefore, as it appears, will possess a beginning, end, and middle. It will. But the middle is equally distant from the extremes; for it could not otherwise be the middle. It could not. And, as it appears, the one being such, will participate of a certain figure, whether straight or round, or a certain mixture from both. It will so.
[145b] Will it, therefore, being such, subsist in itself¹⁰⁷ and in another? How? For each of the parts is in the whole, nor is any one external to the whole. It is so. [145c] But all the parts are comprehended by the whole. Certainly. But the one is all the parts of itself; and is neither more nor less than all. Certainly. Is not the one, therefore, a whole? How should it not? If, therefore, all the parts are in the whole, and all the parts are one, and the one is a whole, but all the parts are comprehended by the whole; hence, the one will be comprehended by the one, and so the one will be in itself. It appears so. [145d] But again, the whole is not in the parts, neither in all, nor in a certain one. For, if it were in all, it would necessarily be in one: for, if it were not in some one, it would not be able to be in all. But if this one is a one belonging to all the parts, and the whole is not in this one, how can it any longer be a whole in all the parts? In no respect. Nor yet in any of the parts. For if the whole should be in some of the parts, the greater would be in the lesser; which is impossible. Impossible. But since the whole is neither in many, nor in one, nor in all the parts, is it not necessary that it should either be in some other, or that it should be nowhere? It is necessary. But if it is nowhere, will it not be nothing? And if it is a whole, since it is not in itself, is it not necessary that it should be in another? Entirely so. So far, therefore, as the one is a whole, it is in another: but so far as all things are its parts, and itself all the parts, it is in itself: and so the one will necessarily be in itself and in another. Necessarily.
[145e] But as the one is naturally such, is it not necessary that it should both be moved¹⁰⁸ and stand still? [146a] How? It must stand still, indeed, if it be in itself. For, being in one, and not departing from this, it will be in same, through being in itself. It will. But that which is always in the same must necessarily without doubt always stand still. Entirely so. But what, must not that, on the contrary, which is always in another, necessarily never be in same? But if it be neverin same, can it stand still? And if it does not stand still, must it not be moved? Certainly. It is necessary, therefore, that the one, since it is always in itself and in another, must always be moved and stand still. It appears so.
[146b] But, likewise, it ought to be the same¹⁰⁹ with itself, and different from itself; and, in like manner, the same with, and different from, others, if it suffers what we have related above. How? Every thing, in a certain respect, thus takes place with relation to every thing: for it is either the same with it or different: or if it is neither same nor different, it will be a part of this to which it is so related, or with respect to a part it will be a whole. It appears so. Is therefore the one a part of itself? By no means. It will not therefore be a whole, with respect to itself, as if itself were a part. [146c] For it cannot. But is the one, therefore, different from the one? By no means. It will not therefore be different from itself. Certainly not. If, therefore, it is neither different nor a whole, nor yet a part with respect to itself, is it not necessary that it should be the same with itself? It is necessary. But what, that which is elsewhere than itself, subsisting in same in itself, must it not necessarily be different from itself, since it has a subsistence elsewhere? It appears so to me. And in this manner the one appears to subsist, being at the same time both in itself and in another. So it seems. Through this, therefore, it appears that the one is different from itself. It does so.
[146d] But what if any thing is different from any thing, is it not different from that which is different? Necessarily so. But are not all such things as are not one different from the one? And is not the one different from such things as are not one? How should it not? The one therefore will be different from other things. Different. But see whether different and same are not contrary to each other. How should they not? Do you think, therefore, that same can ever be in different, or different in same? [146e] I do not. If therefore different is never in same, there is no being in which for any time different subsists; for, if it subsisted in it during any time whatever, in that time dif- ferent would be in same. Would it not be so? It would. But since it is never in same, different will never subsist in any being. True. Neither therefore will different be in things which are not one, nor in the one. [147a] It will not. The one, therefore, will not through different be different from things which are not one, nor things which are not one from the one. Not, indeed. Nor likewise will they be different from each other, since they do not participate of different. For how can they? But if they are neither different from themselves, nor from different, must they not entirely escape from being different from each other? They must escape. But neither will things which are not one participate of the one: for if they did they would no longer be not one, but in a certain respect one. True. Hence things which are not one will not be number; for they would not be entirely not one in consequence of possessing number. Certainly not. [147b] But what, can things which are not one be parts of one? Or would not things which are not one by this means participate of the one? They would participate. If, therefore, this is entirely the one, but those not one, neither will the one be a part of things which are not one, nor a whole with respect to them, as if they were parts; nor, on the contrary, will things which are not one be parts of the one, nor yet wholes, as if the one were a part. They will not. But we have said that things which are neither parts nor wholes, nor different from each other, must be the same with each other. We have said so. Must we not therefore assert that the one, since it subsists in this manner with respect to things which are not one, is the same with them? We must. The one, therefore, as it appears, is both different from others and itself, and the same with them and with itself. It appears from this reasoning to be so.
[147c] But is it also similar¹¹⁰ and dissimilar to itself and others? Perhaps so. Since, therefore, it appears to be different from others, others also will be different from it. But what then? Will it not be different from others, in the same manner as others from it? And this neither more nor less? How should it not? If, therefore, neither more nor less, it must be different in a similar manner. Certainly. Will not that through which the one becomes different from others, and others in a similar manner from it, be also that through which both the one becomes the same with others, and others with the one? [147d] How do you say? Thus: Do not you call every name the name of something? I do: but what then? Do you pronounce the same name often or once? I pronounce it once. When, therefore, you enunciate that name once, do you denominate that thing to which the name belongs: but if often, not the same? Or, whether you pronounce the same name once or often, do you not necessarily always signify the same thing? But what then? Does not a different name belong to some certain thing? Entirely so. [147e] When, therefore, you pronounce this, whether once or often, you do not assign this name to any other, nor do you denominate any other thing than that to which this name belongs. It is necessary it should be so. But when we say that other things are different from the one, and that the one is different from others, twice pronouncing the name different, we yet signify nothing more than the nature of that thing of which this is the name. [148a] Entirely so. If therefore the one be different from others, and others from the one, in consequence of suffering the same different, the one will not suffer that which is different from others, but the same with others: but is not that which in a certain respect suffers the same similar? Certainly. But, in the same manner, as the one becomes different from others, every thing becomes similar to every thing: for every thing is different from all things. It appears so. [148b] But is the similar contrary to the dissimilar? It is. And is not different contrary to same? And this also. But this likewise is apparent, that the one is both the same with and different from others. It is apparent. But to be the same with others is a contrary passion to the being different from others. Entirely so. But the one appears to be similar, so far as different. Certainly. So far therefore as it is same, it will be dissimilar on account of its suffering a passion contrary to that which produces the similar: or was it not the similar which produced the different? Certainly. [148c] It will therefore render that which is dissimilar the same; or it would not be contrary to different. So it appears. The one therefore will be both similar and dissimilar to others: and so far as different it will be similar; but so far as the same dissimilar. The case appears to be so. And it is likewise thus affected. How? So far as it suffers same it does not suffer that which is various; but not suffering that which is various, it cannot be dissimilar; and not being dissimilar, it will be similar: but so far as it suffers different it will be various; and being various it will be dissimilar. You speak the truth. Since, therefore, the one is both the same with and different from others, according to both and according to each of these, it will be similar and dissimilar to others. Entirely so. And will not this in a similar manner be the case with relation to itself, since it has appeared to be both different from and the same with itself; so that, according to both these, and according to each, it will appear to be similar and dissimilar? Necessarily so.
[148d] But consider now how the one subsists with respect to touching¹¹¹ itself and others, and not touching. I consider. For the one appears in a certain respect to be in the whole of itself. Right. But is the one also in others? Certainly. [148e] So far therefore as the one is in others it will touch others; but so far as it is in itself it will be hindered from touching others, but it will touch itself because it subsists in itself. So it appears. And thus, indeed, the one will both touch itself and others. It will so. But what will you say to this? Must not every thing which is about to touch any thing be situated in a place proximate to and after that which it is about to touch, and in which when situated it touches? It is necessary. The one, therefore, if it is about to touch itself, ought to be situated immediately after itself, occupying the place proximate to that in which it is. It ought so. [149a] Would not this be the case with the one if it was two; and would it not be in two places at once? But can this be the case while it is the one? It cannot. The same necessity therefore belongs to the one, neither to be two nor to touch itself. The same. But neither will it touch others. Why? Because we have said, that when any thing is about to touch any thing which is separate from it, it ought to be placed proximate to that which it is about to touch; but that there must be no third in the middle of them. True. Two things, therefore, at the least are requisite, if contact is about to take place. Certainly. [149b] But if a third thing succeeds to the two terms, these will now be three, but the contacts two. Certainly. And thus one always being added, one contact will be added, and it will come to pass that the contacts will be less by one than the multitude of the numbers: for by how much the two first numbers surpassed the contacts, so as to be more in number than the contacts, by so much will all the following number surpass the multitude of the contacts. For in that which remains one will be added to the number, and one contact to the contacts. Right. [149c] The contacts, therefore, less by one will always be as many in number as the things themselves. True. If therefore it is one alone, and not two, there can be no contact. How can there? Have we not said that such things as are different from the one are neither one nor participate of it, since they are different? We have. The one therefore is not number in others, as the one is not contained in them. How can it? The one, therefore, is neither others, nor two, nor any thing possessing the name of another number. It is not. The one, therefore, is one alone, and will not be two. It will not, as it appears. There is no contact, therefore, two not subsisting. There is not. The one therefore will neither touch other things, nor will other things touch the one, as there is no contact. Certainly not. On all these accounts, therefore, the one will both touch and not touch others and itself. So it appears.
[149d] Is it therefore equal¹¹² and unequal to itself and others? How? [149e] If the one were greater or lesser than others, or others greater or lesser than the one, would it not follow that neither the one, because one, nor others, because different from the one, would be greater or lesser than each other from their own essences? But if each, besides being such as they are, should possess equality, would they not be equal to each other? But if the one should possess magnitude, and the other parvitude, or the one magnitude but others parvitude, would it not follow, that, with whatever species magnitude was present, that species would be greater; [150a] but that the species would be lesser with which parvitude was present? Necessarily so. Are there not, therefore, two certain species of this kind, magnitude and parvitude? For if they had no subsistence they could never be contrary to each other, and be present with beings. How should they? If therefore parvitude becomes inherent in the one, it will either be inherent in the whole or in a part of it. It is necessary. But if it should be inherent in the whole, will it not either be extended equally through the whole of the one or comprehend the one? Plainly so. [150b] If parvitude, therefore, is equally inherent in the one, will it not be equal to the one; but if it comprehends the one will it not be greater? How should it not? Can therefore parvitude be equal to or greater than any thing, and exhibit the properties of magnitude and equality, and not its own? It is impossible. Parvitude, therefore, will not be inherent in the whole of the one, but if at all, in a part. Certainly. Nor yet again in the whole part; as the same consequences would ensue in the whole part of the one, as in the whole of the one: for it would either be equal to or greater than the part in which it is inherent. [150c] It is necessary. Parvitude, therefore, will not be inherent in any being, since it can neither be in a part nor in a whole; nor will there be any thing small, except smallness itself. It does not appear that there will. Neither will magnitude therefore be in the one: for there will be some other thing great besides magnitude itself. I mean that in which magnitude is inherent; and this, though parvitude is not, which ought to be surpassed by that which is great; but which in this case is impossible, since parvitude is not inherent in any being. True. [150d] But, indeed, magnitude itself will not surpass any thing else but parvitude itself, nor will parvitude be less than any other than magnitude itself. It will not. Neither therefore will other things be greater than the one; nor lesser, since they neither possess magnitude nor parvitude: nor will these two possess any power with respect to the one, either of surpassing or of being surpassed, but this will be the case only with respect to each other: nor, on the contrary, will the one be either greater or lesser than these two, or others, as it neither possesses magnitude nor parvitude. So indeed it appears. If the one therefore is neither greater nor lesser than others, is it not necessary that it should neither surpass nor be surpassed by them? It is necessary. Is it not also abundantly necessary, that that which neither surpasses nor is surpassed should be equally affected? And must it not, if equally affected, be equal? How should it not? The one therefore will be thus circumstanced with respect to itself: viz. from neither possessing magnitude nor parvitude in itself, it will neither surpass nor be surpassed by itself; but being equally affected it will be equal to itself. Entirely so. The one therefore will be equal both to itself and others. So it appears.
[150e] But if the one should be in itself, it would also be externally about itself; [151a] and so, through comprehending itself, it would be greater than itself; but from being comprehended less than itself: and thus the one would be both greater and lesser than itself. It would so. Is not this also necessary, that nothing has any subsistence besides the one and others? How should it be otherwise? But ought not whatever has a being to be always somewhere? Certainly. And does not that which subsists in another, subsist as the lesser in the greater? For one thing cannot in any other way subsist in another. It cannot. [151b] But since there is nothing else except the one and others, and it is necessary that these should be in something, is it not necessary that they should be in one another, viz. others in the one, and the one in others; or that they should be no where? It appears so. Because, therefore, the one is in others, others will be greater than the one, through comprehending it; but the one will be less than others, because comprehended: but if others are inherent in the one, the one on the same account will be greater than others; but others will be less than the one. It appears so. The one, therefore, is equal to, greater and lesser, both than itself and others. [151c] It seems so. But if it is greater, equal, and lesser, it will be of equal, more, and fewer measures, both than itself and others; and if of measures, also of parts. How should it not? Being, therefore, of equal, more, and fewer measures, it will also be more and less in number, both with respect to itself and others; and also, for the same reason, equal to itself and others. How? That which is greater possesses more measures than that which is smaller, and contains as many parts as measures; and that which is lesser in the same manner, as also that which is equal. It is so. [151d] Since the one, therefore, is both greater, lesser, and equal to itself, will it not also contain measures equal to, more and fewer than itself? And if of measures, will not this also be true of parts? How should it not? If, therefore, it contains equal parts with itself, it will be equal in multitude to itself: but if more, more in multitude, and if fewer, less in multitude, than itself. It appears so. But will the one be similarly affected towards others? For, since it appears to be greater than others, is it not necessary that it should be more in number than others? but, because it is lesser, must it not also be fewer in number? and because equal in magnitude, must it not also be equal in multitude to others? [151e] It is necessary. And thus again, as it appears, the one will be equal, more, and less in number, both than itself and others. It will so.
[152a] Will the one, therefore, participate of time? And is it, and does it subsist in becoming to be younger¹¹³ and older, both than itself and others? And again, neither younger nor older than itself and others, though participating of time? How? To be in a certain respect is present with it, since it is the one. Certainly. But what else is to be than a participation of essence with the present time? In the same manner as it was is a communication of essence with the past, and it will be with the future? It is no other. It must participate, therefore, of time, if it participates of being. Entirely so. Must it not, therefore, participate of time in progression? Certainly. [152b] It will always, therefore, subsist in becoming to be older than itself, if it proceeds according to time. It is necessary. Do we, therefore, call to mind that the older is always becoming older, because it is always becoming younger? We do call it to mind. Does not the one, therefore, while it is becoming older than itself, subsist in becoming older than itself, while it is becoming younger than itself? Necessarily so. It will, therefore, become both younger and older than itself. [152c] Certainly. But is it not then older when it subsists in becoming to be according to the present time, which is between it was and it will be: for, through proceeding from the past to the future, it will not pass beyond the present now? It will not. Will it not, therefore, cease becoming to be older, when it arrives at the now, and is no longer becoming to be, but is now older? For while it proceeds it will never be comprehended by the now. For that which proceeds subsists in such a manner as to touch upon both the now and the future time; departing, indeed, from the now, but apprehending the future, because it subsists in the middle of the future and the now. True. [152d] But if it be necessary that whatever is becoming to be should not pass by the now or the present time, hence, as soon as it arrives at the now, it will always cease becoming to be, and is then that which it was in pursuit of becoming. It appears so. The one, therefore, when in becoming older it arrives at the now, will cease becoming to be, and then is older. Entirely so. Is it not, therefore, older than that in respect of which it becomes older? And does it not become older than itself? Certainly. And is not the older older than the younger? It is. The one, therefore, is younger than itself, when in becoming older it arrives at the now. [152e] It is necessary. But the now is always present with the one, through the whole of its being: for it is always now as long as it is. How should it not? The one, therefore, always is, and is becoming to be younger and older than itself. So it appears. But is the one, or does it subsist in becoming to be, in a time more extended than or equal to itself? In an equal time. But that which either is, or subsists in becoming to be, in an equal time possesses the same age. How should it not? But that which has the same age is neither older nor younger. By no means. The one, therefore, since it both subsists in becoming to be and is, in a time equal to itself, neither is nor is becoming to be younger nor older than itself. It does not appear to me that it can.
[152e] But how is it affected with respect to others? [153a] I know not what to say. But this you may say, that things different from the one because they are oth- ers, and not another, are more than the one. For that which is another is one; but being others they are more than one, and possess multitude. They do. But multitude participates of a greater number than the one? How should it not? What then? Do we say that things more in number are generated, or have been generated, before the few? We assert this of the few before the many. [153b] That which is the fewest, therefore, is first: but is not this the one? Certainly. The one, therefore, becomes the first of all things possessing number: but all other things have number, if they are others and not another. They have indeed. But that which is first generated has I think a priority of subsistence: but others are posterior to this. But such as have an after generation are younger than that which had a prior generation; and thus others will be younger than the one, but the one will be older than others. It will indeed. [153c] But what shall we say to this? Can the one be generated contrary to its nature, or is this impossible? Impossible. But the one appears to consist of parts; and if of parts, it possesses a beginning, end, and middle. Certainly. Is not, therefore, the beginning generated first of all, both of the one and of every other thing; and after the beginning all the other parts, as far as to the end? What then? And, indeed, we should say that all these are parts of a whole and of one; but that the one, together with the end, is generated one and a whole. We should say so. [153d] But the end I think must be generated last of all, and the one must be naturally generated together with this; so that the one, since it is necessary that it should not be generated contrary to nature, being produced together with the end, will be naturally generated the last of others. The one, therefore, is younger than others, but others are older than the one. So again it appears to me. But what, must not the beginning, or any other part whatever, of the one, or of any thing else, if it is a part, and not parts—must it not necessarily be one, since it is a part? [153e] Necessarily. The one, therefore, while becoming to be, together with the first part, will be generated, and together with the second; and it will never desert any one of the other generated parts, till arriving at the extremity it becomes one whole; neither excluded from the middle, nor from the last, nor the first, nor from any other whatever in its generation. True. The one, therefore, will possess the same age with others, as (if it be not the one contrary to its own nature) it will be generated neither prior nor posterior to others, but together with them; and on this account the one will neither be older nor younger than others, nor others than the one: but, according to the former reasoning, the one was both older and younger than others, and others in a similar manner than it. Entirely so.
[154a] After this manner, therefore, the one subsists and is generated. But what shall we say respecting its becoming older and younger than others, and others than the one; and again, that it neither becomes older nor younger? Shall we say that it subsists in the same manner with respect to the term becoming to be as with respect to the term to be? or otherwise? I am not able to say. [154b] But I am able to affirm this, that however one thing may be older than another, yet it cannot otherwise subsist in becoming to be older, than by that difference of age which it possessed as soon as it was born: nor, on the contrary, can that which is younger subsist in becoming to be younger, otherwise than by the same difference. For, equal things being added to unequals, whether they are times or any thing else, always cause them to differ by the same interval by which they were distant at first. How should it be otherwise? That which is, therefore, cannot subsist in becoming to be older or younger than one being, since it is always equally different from it in age: but this is and was older, but that younger; but by no means subsists in becoming so. [154c] True. That which is one, therefore, will never subsist in becoming to be either older or younger than other beings. Never. But see whether by this means other things will become younger and older. After what manner? The same as that through which the one appeared to be older than others, and others than the one. What then? Since the one is older than others, it was for a longer period of time than others. Certainly.
[154d] But again consider, if we add an equal time to a longer and shorter time, does the longer differ from the shorter by an equal or by a smaller part? By a smaller. The one, therefore, will not differ from others by so great an age afterwards as before; but, receiving an equal time with others, it will always differ by a less age than before. [154e] Will it not be so? Certainly. But does not that which differs less in age, with respect to any thing, than it did before, become younger than before, with respect to those than which it was before older? Younger. But if it is younger, will not, on the contrary, others with respect to the one be older than before? Entirely so. [155a] That, therefore, which was generated younger, will subsist in becoming to be older, with respect to that which was before generated and is older; but it never is older, but always is becoming older than it; the one indeed advancing to a more juvenile state, but the other to one more aged: but that which is older is becoming to be younger than the younger, after the same manner. For both tending to that which is contrary they subsist in becoming contrary to each other; the younger becoming older than the older, and the older younger than the younger: but they are not able to become so. For if they should become they would no longer subsist in becoming, but would now be. But now they are becoming younger and older than each other; and the one indeed becomes younger than others, because it appears to be older, and to have a prior generation: but others are older than the one, because they have a posterior generation; and, from the same reason, other things will be similarly related with respect to the one, since they appear to be more antient and to have a prior [155b] generation. So indeed it appears. Does [155c] it not follow, that so far as the one does not become younger or older than the other, because they differ by an equal number from each other, that, so far as this, the one will not become older or younger than others, nor others than the one? But that, so far as it is necessary that the prior should always differ from such as are becoming to be posterior, and the posterior from the prior; so far it is necessary that they should become older and younger than each other, both others than the one and the one than others? Entirely so. On all these accounts, therefore, the one is, and is becoming to be, older and younger both than itself and others; and again, neither is nor is becom- ing to be older nor younger than itself and others. It is perfectly so. [155d] But since the one participates of time, and of becoming to be older and younger, is it not necessary that it should participate of the past, present, and future, since it participates of time? It is necessary. The one, therefore, was, and is, and will be; and was generated, and is generated, and will be generated. What then? And there will also be something belonging to it, and which may be asserted of it, and which was, and is, and will be. Entirely so. There will, therefore, be science, opinion, and sense of the one, since we have now treated of all these things about it. You speak rightly. A name, therefore, and discourse may subsist about the one, and it may be denominated and spoken of: and whatever particulars of the same kind take place in other things, will also take place about the one. The case is perfectly so.
[155e] In the third place, let us consider, if the one subsists in the manner we have already asserted, is it not necessary, since it is both one and many, and again neither one nor many, and participating of time, that because it is one it should participate of essence; but that because it is not, it should not at any time participate of essence? It is necessary. Is it, therefore, possible, that when it participates and becomes such as it is, that then it should not participate; or that it should participate when it does not participate? It cannot be possible. [156a] It participates, therefore, at one time, and does not participate at another: for thus alone can it participate and not participate of the same. Right. Is not that also time, when it receives being and again loses it? Or how can it be possible that, being such as it is, it should at one time possess the same thing, and at another time not, unless it both receives and loses it? No otherwise. Do you not denominate the receiving of essence to become? I do. And is not to lose essence the same as to perish? Entirely so. The one, therefore, as it seems, by receiving and losing essence, is generated and perishes. Necessarily so. [156b] But since it is both one and many, and subsists in becoming to be and perishing, when it becomes one does it cease to be many, and when it becomes many does it cease to be one? Entirely so. But, in consequence of becoming one and many, must it not be separated and collected? It must. And when it becomes dissimilar and similar, must it not be assimilated and dissimilated? Certainly. And when it becomes greater, lesser, and equal, must it not be increased, corrupted, and equalized? It must so. [156c] But when from being moved it stands still, and when from standing still it is changed into being moved, it is requisite that it should not subsist in one time. How should it? But that which before stood still and is afterwards moved, and was before moved and afterwards stands still, cannot suffer these affections without mutation. For how can it? But there is no time in which any thing can neither be moved nor stand still. There is not. But it cannot be changed without mutation. [156d] It is not probable that it can. When, therefore, will it be changed? For neither while it stands still, nor while it is moved, will it be changed: nor while it is in time. It will not. Is that any wonderful thing in which it will be when it changes? What thing? [156e] The sudden, or that which unapparently starts forth to the view. For the sudden seems to signify some such thing, as that from which it passes into each of these conditions. For while it stands still it will not be changed from standing, nor while in motion will it be changed from motion: but that wonderful nature the sudden is situated between motion and abiding, is in no time, and into this and from this that which is moved passes into standing still, and that which stands still into motion. [157a] It appears so. The one, therefore, if it stands still and is moved, must be changed into each: for thus alone will it produce both these affections. But, becoming changed, it will be changed suddenly; and when it changes will be in no time: for it will then neither stand still nor be moved. It will not. Will the one also be thus affected with respect to other mutations? And when it is changed from being into the loss of being, or from non-being into becoming to be, does it not then become a medium between certain motions and abidings? and then neither is nor is not, nor becomes nor perishes? It appears so. And in the same manner, when it passes from one into many and from many into one, it is neither one nor many, nor is it separated nor collected. And in passing from similar to dissimilar, and from dissimilar to similar, it is neither similar nor dissimilar, nor is assimilated nor dissimilated. And while it passes from small into great, and into equal or its contrary, it will neither be small nor great, nor unequal, nor increasing, nor perishing, nor equalized. It does not appear that it can. But all these passions the one will suffer, if it is. How should it not?
[157b] But should we not consider what other things ought to suffer if the one is? We should. Let us relate, therefore, if the one is, what other things ought to suffer from the one. By all means. [157c] Does it not follow that because other things are different from the one they are not the one: for otherwise they would not be different from the one? Right. Nor yet are others entirely deprived of the one, but participate it in a certain respect. In what respect? Because things different from the one are different, from their having parts: for if they had not parts they would be entirely one. Right. But parts we have asserted belong to that which is a whole. We have so. But it is necessary that a whole should be one composed from many, of which one the many are parts: for each of the parts ought not to be a part of many, but of a whole. How so? [157d] If any thing should be a part of many, among which it subsists itself, it would doubtless be a part of itself (which is impossible), and of each one of the others; since it is a part of all. For if it is not a part of one of these it will be a part of the others, this being excepted; and so it will not be a part of each one: and not being a part of each, it will be a part of no one of the many: and being a part of no one of the many, it is impossible that it should be any thing belonging to all those, of no one of which it is either a part or any thing else. [157e] So it appears. A part, therefore, is neither a part of many nor of all; but of one certain idea and of one certain thing which we call a whole, and which becomes one perfect thing from all: for a part indeed is a part of this. Entirely so. If, therefore, other things have parts, they will also participate of a whole and one. Certainly. One perfect whole, therefore, possessing parts, must necessarily be different from the one. It is necessary. [158a] But the same reasoning is true concerning each of the parts: for it is necessary that each of these should participate of the one. For, if each of these is a part, the very being each, in a certain respect, signifies one; since it is distinguished from others, and has a subsistence by itself, if it is that which is called each. Right. But it participates of the one as it is evidently something different from the one; for otherwise it would not participate, but would be the one itself. But now it is impossible that any thing can be the one except the one itself. Impossible. But it is necessary both to a whole and to a part to participate of the one: for a whole is one certain thing and has parts. But each part whatever, which is a part of the whole, is one part. It is so. [158b] Must not, therefore, those which participate of the one participate it, as being different from the one? How should they not? But things different from the one will in a certain respect be many; for if things different from the one were neither one nor more than one, they would be nothing. They would. But since the things which participate of one part and one whole are more than one, is it not necessary that these very things which participate of the one should be infinite in multitude? [158c] How? Thus: they are different from the one, nor are they participants of the one, then when they have already participated of it. Certainly. Are not those multitudes in which the one is not? Multitudes, certainly. What then? If we should be willing by cogitation to take away the least quantity from these, would it not be necessary that this quantity which is taken away should be multitude, and not one, since it does not participate of the one? It is necessary. By always surveying, therefore, another nature of form, itself subsisting by itself, will not any quantity of it which we may behold be infinite in multitude? [158d] Entirely so. And since every part becomes one, the parts will have bounds with respect to each other, and to the whole; and the whole with respect to the parts. Perfectly so. It will happen, therefore, to things different from the one, as it appears both from the one and from their communicating with each other, that a certain something different will take place in them; which indeed affords to them a bound towards each other, while in the mean time the nature of these causes them to become essentially connected with infinity. It appears so. And thus things different from the one, both as wholes and according to parts, are infinite and participate of bound. Entirely so. [158e] Are they not, therefore, similar and dissimilar, both to each other and to themselves? Why? Because, so far as all of them are in a certain respect infinite, according to their own nature, they all of them, in consequence of this, suffer that which is the same. How should they not? But so far as they suffer to be bounded and infinite, which are passions contrary to each other, they suffer these passions. [159a] Certainly. But things contrary, as such, are most dissimilar. What then? According to each of these passions, therefore, they are similar to themselves and to each other; but, according to both, they are on both sides most contrary and dissimilar. It appears so. And thus others will be the same with themselves and with each other, and similar and dissimilar. They will so. And again, they will be the same and different from each other, will both be moved and stand still; and it will not be difficult to find all kinds of contrary passions suffered by things different from the one, while they appear to be passive, in the manner we have related. You speak rightly.
[159b] Shall we not, therefore, pass by these things as evident, and again consider if the one is, whether things different from the one will subsist not in this manner, or whether in this manner alone? Entirely so. Let us, therefore, assert again from the beginning, if the one is, what things different from the one ought to suffer. Let us. Is, therefore, the one separate from others, and are others separate from the one? Why? [159c] Because there is no other different besides these, viz. that which is different from the one, and that which is different from others; for all that can be spoken is asserted, when we say the one and others. All, indeed. There is nothing else, therefore, besides these in which the one and others can subsist after the same manner. Nothing. The one and others, therefore, are never in the same. It does not appear that they are. Are they separate, therefore? They are. We have likewise asserted that the truly one has not any parts. For how can it? Neither, therefore, will the whole of the one be in others, nor the parts of it, if it is separate from others, and has no parts. How should it not be so? [159d] In no way, therefore, will others participate of the one, since they neither participate according to a certain part of it, nor according to the whole. It does not appear that they can. By no means, therefore, are others the one, nor have they any one in themselves. They have not. Neither, then, are other things many; for, if they were many, each of them, as being a part of a whole, would be one: but now things different from the one are neither one nor many, nor a whole, nor parts, since they in no respect participate of the one. [159e] Right. Others, therefore, are neither two nor three, nor is one contained in them, because they are entirely deprived of the one. So it is. Others, therefore, are neither similars nor dissimilars, nor the same with the one, nor are similitude and dissimilitude inherent in them. For, if they were similar and dissimilar, so far as they contained in themselves similitude and dissimilitude, so far things different from the one would comprehend in themselves two contrary species. So it appears. But it is impossible for those to participate of two certain things which do not participate of one. Impossible. Others, therefore, are neither similars nor dissimilars, nor both. For, if they were things similar or dissimilar, they would participate of one other form; and if they were both, they would participate of two contrary forms: but these things appear to be impossible. True. [160a] Others, therefore, are neither same nor different, nor are moved nor stand still, nor are generated nor destroyed, nor are greater, or lesser, or equal, nor do they suffer any thing else of this kind. For, if others could sustain to suffer any such affection, they would participate of one and two, and of even and odd; all which it appears impossible for them to participate, since they are entirely deprived of the one. All this is most true. Hence, then, if the one is, the one is all things and nothing; and is similarly affected towards itself and towards others. Entirely so.
[160b] Let this then be admitted. But should we not after this consider what ought to happen if the one is not? We should. What then will be the hypothesis if the one is not? Will it differ from the hypothesis if that which is not one is not? It will indeed differ. Will it only differ, or is the hypothesis if that which is not one is not, entirely contrary to the hypothesis if the one is not? [160c] Entirely contrary. But what, if any one should say, if magnitude is not, or parvitude is not, or any thing else of this kind, would he not evince in each of these that he speaks of that which is not as something different? Entirely so. Would he not, therefore, now evince that he calls that which is not different from others, when he says if the one is not; and should we understand that which he says? We should understand. In the first place, therefore, he speaks of something which may be known; and afterwards of something different from others when he says the one, whether he adds to it to be or not to be: for that which is said not to be will be not the less known, nor that it is something different from others: is it not so? [160d] It is necessary it should. Let us, therefore, relate from the beginning, if the one is not, what ought to be the consequence. In the first place, therefore, this as it appears ought to happen it, that either there should be a science of it, or that nothing of what is pronounced can be known, when any one says if the one is not. True. Must not this also happen, that either other things must be different from it, or that it must be said to be different from others? Entirely so. [160e] Diversity, therefore, besides science, is present with it; for, when any one says that the one is different from others, he will not speak of the diversity of others, but of the diversity of the one. It appears so. And besides, that which is not, or non-being, will participate of that, and of some certain thing, and of this, and of these, and every thing of this kind. For neither could the one be spoken of, nor things different from the one, nor would any thing be present with it, nor could it be denominated any thing, if it neither participated of some certain thing or things of this kind. Right. But to be cannot be present with the one if it is not; though nothing hinders but it may participate of the many: but, indeed, it is necessary that it should, if the one is that, and is not something different from that. If, therefore, it is neither the one nor that, neither will it be; but discourse must take place about something else, and it will be necessary to pronounce nothing concerning it. But if the one is established as that and not as another, it is necessary that it should participate of that and of many other things.
[161a] Entirely so. Dissimilitude, therefore, is present with it as to other things: for other things being different from the one will also be foreign from it. Certainly. But are not things foreign various? [161b] How should they not? And are not things various dissimilars? Dissimilars. If, therefore, they are dissimilars to the one, it is evident they will be dissimilars to that which is dissimilar. It is evident. Dissimilitude, therefore, will be present with the one, according to which others will be dissimilars to it. It appears so. But if a dissimilitude with respect to other things belongs to it, must not similitude to itself be present with it? How? If there be a dissimilitude of the one with respect to the one, discourse would not take place about a thing of this kind as of the one; nor would the hypothesis be about the one, but about something different from the one. [161c] Entirely so. But it ought not. Certainly not. There ought, therefore, to be a similitude of the one with respect to itself. There ought. But neither is the one equal to others. For, if it were equal, it would according to equality be similar to them; but both these are impossible, since the one is not. Impossible. But since it is not equal to others, is it not necessary that others also should not be equal to it? It is necessary. But are not things which are not equal unequal? Certainly. And are not unequals unequal to that which is unequal? [161d] How should they not? The one, therefore, will participate of inequality, according to which others will be unequal to it. It will participate. But magnitude and parvitude belong to inequality. They do. Do magnitude and parvitude, therefore, belong to a one of this kind? It appears they do. But magnitude and parvitude are always separated from each other. Entirely so. Something, therefore, always subsists between them. Certainly. Can you assign any thing else between these, except equality? Nothing else. [161e] With whatever, therefore, there is magnitude and parvitude, with this equality also is present, subsisting as a medium between these. It appears so. But to the one which is not, equality, magnitude, and parvitude, as it appears, belong. So it seems. But it ought likewise, in a certain respect, to participate of essence. How so? Ought it to possess the properties which we have already described? for, unless this is the case, we shall not speak the truth when we say the one is not; but if this is true, it is evident that we have asserted things which have a subsistence: is it not so? It is. But since we assert that we speak truly, it is likewise necessary to assert that we speak of things which exist. It is necessary. The one, therefore, which is not, as it appears, is; for if it is not, while not being¹¹⁴, but remits something of being in order to not being, it will immediately become be- ing. Entirely so.
[162a] It ought, therefore, to have, as the bond of not to be, to be that which is not¹¹⁵, if it is about not to be: just as being ought to have as a bond not to be that which is not¹¹⁶, that it may be perfectly that which is. For thus, in a most eminent degree, being will be and non-being will not be: being participating of essence, in order that it may be being; but of non- essence in order that it may obtain to be non-being, if it is about perfectly to be: but non-being participating of non-essence, in order that it may not be that which is not being; but participating of essence, in order that it may obtain to be non-being, if it is to be perfectly that which is not. Most truly so. [162b] Since, therefore, non-being is present with being, and being with non- being, is it not necessary that the one also, since it is not, should participate of being, in order that it may not be? It is necessary. Essence, therefore, will appear with the one, if it is not. So it seems. And non-essence, since it is not. How should it not? Can any thing, therefore, which is affected in a certain manner, be not so affected when not changed from this habit? It cannot. [162c] Every thing, therefore, signifies a certain mutation, which is affected and again not affected in some particular manner. How should it not? Is mutation a motion, or what else do we call it? It is a motion. But has not the one appeared to be both being and non-being? Certainly. It has appeared, therefore, to be thus and not thus affected. It has. The one, therefore, which is non-being appears to be moved, since it possesses a mutation from be- ing into non-being. It appears so. But if it be no where among beings, as it is not in consequenee of not being, it cannot pass elsewhere. For how can it? It will not, therefore, be moved by transition. [162d] It will not. Neither will it revolve in same: for it will never touch same, since same is being. But it is impossible that non- being can reside in any being. Impossible. The one, therefore, which is not, cannot revolve in that in which it is not. It cannot. Neither will the one be altered from itself, either into being or non-being: for our discourse would no longer be concerning the one, if it was altered from itself, but concerning something different from this one. Right. [162e] But if it is neither altered, nor revolves in same, nor suffers transition, is there any way in which it can be moved? How should there? But that which is immovable must necessarily be at rest; and that which is at rest must abide or stand still. It is necessary. The one which is not, therefore, as it appears, both abides and is moved. [163a] It appears so. But if it be moved, there is a great necessity that it should be altered; for, so far as any thing is moved, it is no longer affected in the same manner as before, but differently. There is so. The one, therefore, since it is moved, is also altered. Certainly. But as again it is in no respect moved, it will be in no respect altered. It will not. So far, therefore, as the one which is not is moved, it is altered; but so far as it is not moved it is not altered. Certainly not. The one, therefore, which is not, is both altered and not altered. It appears so. But is it not necessary that when any thing is altered it should become different from what it was before, and should suffer a dissolution of its former habit; but that a nature which is not altered should neither be generated nor dissolved? It is necessary. The one, therefore, which is not, through being altered, will be generated and dissolved; but at the same time, from its not suffering alteration, will not be subject to either generation or corruption. And thus the one which is not will be generated and dissolved, and will neither be generated nor dissolved. It will not.
[163b] But let us again return to the beginning, and see whether these things will appear to us in our subsequent discussion as they do now, or otherwise. [163c] It is necessary, indeed, so to do. Have we not already related, if the one is not, what ought to happen concerning it? Certainly. But when we say it is not, do we signify any thing else than the absence of essence from that which we say is not? Nothing else. Whether, therefore, when we say that any thing is not, do we say that in a certain respect it is not, and that in a certain respect it is? Or does the term is not simply signify that it is in no respect any where, and that it does not any how participate of essence, since it is not? It signifies, indeed, most simply. [163d] Neither therefore can that which is not be, nor in any other respect participate of essence. It cannot. But is to be generated and corrupted any thing else than for this to receive essence and for that to lose essence? It is nothing else. That therefore with which nothing of essence is present, can neither receive nor lose it. How can it? The one, therefore, since it in no respect is, can neither possess, nor lose, nor receive essence, in any manner whatever. It is proper it should be so. The one which is not, will neither therefore be corrupted nor generated, since it in no respect participates of essence. It does not appear that it will. [163e] Neither, therefore, will it be in any respect altered; for if it suffered this passion it would be generated and corrupted. True. But if it is not altered, is it not also necessary that it should not be moved? It is necessary. But that which in no respect is, we have likewise asserted, cannot stand still; for that which stands ought always to be in a certain same? How should it not? And thus we must assert that non-being neither at any time stands nor is moved. For indeed it does not. [164a] But likewise nothing of beings is present with it; for this, through participating of being, would participate of essence. It is evident. Neither magnitude, therefore, nor parvitude, nor equality, belongs to it. Certainly not. Neither will similitude or diversity, either with respect to itself or others, be present with it. It does not appear that they will. But what, can other things be in any respect present with it, if nothing ought to be present with it? They cannot. Neither, therefore, are similars nor dissimilars, nor same nor different, different from it. They are not. But what, can any thing be asserted of it, or be with it, or can it be any certain thing, or this, or belong to this, or that, or be with some other thing, or be formerly, or hereafter, or now—or can science, or opinion, or sense, or discourse, or a name, or any thing else belonging to beings, subsist about that which is not? There cannot. The one therefore which is not, will not in any respect subsist any where. So indeed it appears.
[164b] But let us again declare if the one is not, what other things ought to suffer. Let us. But in a certain respect others ought to subsist; for, unless others have a being, we cannot discourse concerning them. True. But if discourse is about others, others will be different: or do you not call others and dif- ferent the same? [164c] I do. But do we not say that different is different from different, and other is other than another? Certainly. With respect to oth- ers, therefore, if they are about to be others, there is something than which they will be others. It is necessary. But what will this be? For they will not be different from the one, since it is not. They will not. They are different therefore from each other; for this alone remains to them, or to be different from nothing. Right. [164d] According to multitudes, therefore, each is different from each; for they cannot be different according to the one, since the one is not. But each mass of these, as it appears, is infinite in multitude. And though any one should assume that which appears to be the least, like a dream in sleep, on a sudden, instead of that which seemed to be one, many would rise to the view; and instead of that which is smallest, a quantity perfectly great with respect to the multitude distributed from it. Most right. But among these masses or heaps, others will be mutually different from one another, if they are others and the one is not. Eminently so. Will there not then be many heaps, each of which will appear to be one, but is not so since the one is not? [164e] There will so. There will likewise appear to be a number of these, if each of these which are many is one. Entirely so. But the even and odd which are among them will not have a true appearance, since the one will not have a being. They will not. [165a] But likewise that which is smallest, as we have said, will appear to be with them; but this minimum will seem to be many things and great, with respect to each of the things which are many and small. How should it not? And every small heap will seem in the eye of opinion to be equal to many small heaps: for it will not appear to pass from a greater into a lesser quantity, before it seems to arrive at something between; and this will be a phantasm of equality. It is likely to be so. Will it not also appear to be bounded with respect to another heap, itself with respect to itself, at the same time neither having a beginning, nor middle, nor end? How so? [165b] Because, when any one apprehends by the dianoëtic power some one of these prior to the beginning, another beginning will always appear, and after the end another end will always be left behind: but in the middle there will always be other things more inward than the middle; and smaller, because each of them cannot receive one one, since the one is not. This is most true. But every thing which any one may apprehend by the dianoëtic power, must I think be broken to pieces and distributed; for the bulk will in a certain respect be apprehended without the one. [165c] Entirely so. But will not such a heap, to him who beholds it afar off and with a dull eye, necessarily appear to be one: but to him who with an intellectual eye surveys it near and acutely, will not each appear to be infinite in multitude, since it is deprived of the one, because it has no subsistence? It is necessary it should be so in the highest degree. Each, therefore, of other things ought to appear infinite and bounded, and one and many, if the one is not, and other things besides the one have a subsistence. It ought to be so. Will they, therefore, appear to be similars and dissimilars? But how? Since to him who beholds others at a distance, involved as it were in shadow, they all appear to be one, they will seem to suffer same and to be similar. Entirely so. [165d] But to him who approaches nearer they will appear to be many and different, and different from and dissimilar to themselves, through the phantasm of diversity. It is so. The heaps, therefore, will necessarily appear to be similar and dissimilar to themselves, and to each other. Entirely so. Will they not also be the same and different from each other, and in contact with, and separate from, themselves, and moved with all possible motions, and every way abiding: likewise generated and corrupted, and neither of these, and all of this kind, which may be easily enumerated, if, though the one is not, the many have a subsistence? All this is most true.
[165e] Once more, therefore, returning again to the beginning, let us relate what ought to happen to things different from the one, if the one is not. Let us relate. Does it not, therefore, follow that others are not the one? How should it not be so? Nor yet are they many; for, in the many, the one also would be inherent. For, if none of these is one, all are nothing; so that neither can there be many. True. The one, therefore, not being inherent in others, others are neither many nor one. [166a] They are not. Nor will they appear either to be one or many. Why not? Because others cannot in any respect have any communication with things which are not, nor can any thing of non-beings be present with others; for no part subsists with non-beings. True. Neither, therefore, is there any opinion of that which is not, inherent in others, nor any phantasm; nor can that which is not become in any respect the subject of opinion to others. It cannot. [166b] The one, therefore, if it is not, cannot by opinion be conceived to be any certain one of others, nor yet many; for it is impossible to form an opinion of many without the one. It is impossible. If the one, therefore, is not, neither have others any subsistence; nor can the one or the many be conceived by opinion. It does not appear that they can. Neither, therefore, do similars nor dissimilars subsist. They do not. Nor same nor different, nor things in contact, nor such as are separate from each other, nor other things, such as we have already discussed, as appearing to subsist; for no particular of these will have any existence, nor will others appear to be, if the one is not. [166c] True. If we should, therefore, summarily say, that if the one is not, nothing is, will not our assertion be right? Entirely so. Let this then be asserted by us, and this also: that whether the one is or is not, both itself, as it appears, and others, both with respect to themselves and to each other, are entirely all things, and at the same time are not all, and appear to be, and at the same time do not appear. It is most true.

## Notes

[1] See the Introduction.
[2] It is necessary, says Proclus, that immovable causes of all things which have a perpetual subsistence in the universe should presubsist in the intellect of the fabricator of the world: for the immutable is present with these, through the eternal power of causes. Hence, of man so far as man, and of every individual form in animals and in plants, there are intellectual causes; and the progression of all things from thence is not immediately into these material genera. For it was not lawful for intellectual, eternal, and immaterial causes to generate material particulars, which have a various subsistence; since every progression is effected through similitude; and prior to things which are separated from their cause as much as possible, such things as are conjoined with, and are more clearly assimilated to, it, must have a subsistence. From man itself, therefore, or the ideal man in the demiurgic intellect, there will be, in the first place, a certain celestial man; afterwards an empyrean, an aërial, and an aquatic man; and, in the last place, this terrestrial man. All this series of form is perpetual, (the subjection proceeding into that which is more partial,) being suspended from an intellectual unity, which is called man itself. There is also another series from horse itself, from lion itself, and in a similar manner of all animals and plants. Thus, too, there is a fountain and unity of all fire, and a fountain of all mundane water. And that these monads are more partial than those before mentioned, viz. than beauty, similitude, justice, &c. is evident; and it is also clear that the fountain, or idea, of all the series of man is the most partial of all the forms that are participated by mundane natures.
[3] We have already observed in the Introduction to this dialogue, and shall largely prove in the Additional Notes, that there are ideas alone of universal essences, and of such things as contribute to the perfection of these: for the good, the essential, and the perpet- ual, eminently pertain to forms; the first of these being derived from the first cause, the second from the highest being, and the third from eternity. From these three elements, therefore, we may define what things are generated according to a paradigmatic intellectual cause, and what things subsist indeed from other principles, but not according to an intellectual paradigm. Of hair, therefore, because it is a part, there can be no idea; nor of clay, because it is an indefinite mixture of two elements, earth and water, and is not generated according to a physical reason, or productive principle; since there are ten thousand other things which we combine for the various purposes of life, and which are the works of art, and not of nature. Nor is there any idea of mud, because there are no ideas of degenerations, detriments, and evils, which either arise from a confluence of divulsed causes, or from our actions and passions.
[4] Parmenides, as Proclus justly observes, in correcting this conception of Socrates, reproves in what he now says those who consider these little and vile particulars as without a cause. For every thing which is generated, as Timæus says, is necessarily generated from some cause, since it is perfectly impossible that it should be generated without a cause. There is nothing, therefore, so dishonourable and vile which does not participate of the good, and thence derive its generation. Since, even though you should speak of matter, you will find that this is good; though of evil itself, you will find that this also participates of a certain good, and is no otherwise able to subsist than as coloured with, and receiving a portion of, a certain good. But the opinions of men are ashamed to suspend from a divine cause things small and vile, looking to the nature of the latter, and not to the power of the former; and not considering that, being generative of greater things, it is much more so of such as are less, as the Athenian guest says in the Laws. True philosophers, however, suspending every thing in the world both great and small from providence, see nothing dishonourable, nothing despicable in the dwelling of Jupiter; but they perceive all things good, so far as they subsist from providence, and beautiful, so far as generated according to a divine cause.
[5] The discourse of Parmenides, says Proclus is perfective of, evolves and elevates, the conceptions of Socrates; praising, indeed, his unperverted conceptions, but perfecting such as are imperfect, and distinctly unfolding such as are confused. But as there are four problems concerning ideas, as we have observed in the Introduction, with respect to their subsistence Parmenides excites Socrates, in order to learn whether he suspends all things from a formal principle, or whether he knew another cause more antient than this; and his reproof of Socrates was in consequence of looking to this first cause. He proceeds, therefore, supernally from the most total forms, through the more partial, and such as are most individual, to such things as do not subsist according to an intellectual form, but originate from the monad of all beings, or, in other words, being itself. Hence truly proceeding as far as to the last of things, and suspending all things from a paternal cause, and perfecting the conceptions of Socrates concerning these, he proceeds to the third problem, or the manner in which ideas are participated, again extending obstetric aid. For the mode of the discourse is every where maieutic or obstetric, and does not confute, and is pirastic, or explorative, but not vindicative. It differs, however, so far as at one time it proceeds from on high as far as to the last of things, and at another recurs downwards to assertions adapted to divine causes; according to each of these forms perfecting and elevating Socrates, and distinctly unfolding his conceptions respecting these particulars. Such, then, is the mode of the discourse, calling forth spontaneous conceptions, accurately expanding such as are imperfect, and elevating those that are able to follow them; truly imitating the paternal cause, which from the summit of all beings preserves, perfects, and draws upwards all things by the unknown powers which he contains. Let us now proceed to consider the mode in which forms or ideas are participated, following the divine Proclus as our leader in this arduous investigation. The participations of intellectual forms are assimilated to the representations in a mirror; for as, in these, habitude and position cause the image of the person to be seen in the mirror; so, the aptitude of matter extending itself as it were to the Artificer of the universe, and to the inexhaustible abundance which he contains, is filled from him with forms. The participations are also assimilated to the impressions in wax. For ideas impart a certain vestige and impression of themselves; and neither is this impression the same with the seal by which it was produced, as neither is the form merged in matter the same with the immaterial and divine form from which it originated. But this latter mode differs from the former so far as it indicates a certain passive property in the recipient; for the mirror does not exhibit passivity sensibly, as the wax does in the latter instance. Hence some of the Platonic philosophers, considering matter as impassive in the participation of forms, assimilate it to a mirror, but call forms images and representations. Others again, considering matter as passive, say, that it is impressed like the wax by the seal, and call forms the passions of matter. Forms also are said to be like the similitudes of icons, whether effected by the painter’s, or the plastic, or any other art. For these forms, being fashioned by a divine artificer, are said to be similar to divine forms; and hence the whole sensible order is called the icon of the intelligible. But this assertion differs from the former, so far as this separates the maker from the exemplar;
[6] Magnitude here, as Proclus well observes, is not such as that of which geometricians speak; for they denominate whatever possesses interval magnitude, whether it be line, superficies, or solid. But Plato does not denominate the form which is the cause of every interval, magnitude, but that which according to every genus imparts transcendency to things. but those produce the analogy from considering both as one. And such are the modes according to which material forms have been said to subsist with relation to such as are divine. It must, however, be observed, that each of these is imperfect considered by itself, and incapable of representing to our intellectual conceptions the whole truth respecting this participation. For, in the first place, consider, as to the mirror, that the countenance beheld in it turns itself towards the mirror, while, on the contrary, an intellectual cause beholds itself, and does not direct its vision to outward objects. If, too, the mirror appears to possess a communication of something, but in reality does not, (for the rays are reflected back to the countenance,) it is evident that this also is foreign from the participation of divine forms; for, as they are perfectly incorporeal, nothing can be separated from them and distributed into matter. In the second place, if we consider the impressions in wax, we shall find, that both that which impresses externally impresses, and that which is passive to the impression is externally passive; but form pervades through the whole of the subject matter, and operates internally. For nature fashions body inwardly, and not externally like art. And above all, in this instance, that which is participated approximates to that which participates. But it is requisite that divine forms should be exempt from all things, and not be mingled with any thing of a different nature. In the third place, let us consider the analogy from icons, and we shall find this also deficient. For, in the first place, forms fashion the whole of the subject matter by which they are received, and this by an internal energy: and, in the next place, the exemplar and the maker are here separated from each other. Thus, the figure which is painted does not produce its likeness on the canvass, even though the painter should paint a resemblance of himself; for it is the soul which operates, and not the external figure, which is the exemplar; nor does that which makes, assimilate that which is produced to itself; for it is soul which makes, and that which is produced is the resemblance of external form. But divine forms are at the same time paradigmatic and demiurgic of their resemblances: for they have no similitude to the impressions in wax, but possess an efficacious essence, and a power assimilative of things secondary to themselves. No one of these modes, therefore, is of itself sufficient to represent the true manner in which divine forms are participated. But, perhaps, if we can discover the most proper mode of participation, we shall see how each of these touches on the truth, at the same time that it falls short of the whole characteristic. It is requisite, therefore, in order to this participation, to consider as the causes by which it is effected, the efficacious power of primary and divine forms, and the desire and aptitude of the natures which thence derive their formation. For neither is the fabricative and efficacious power of forms alone sufficient to produce participation; for they are every where similarly present, but are not similarly participated by all things. Nor is the desire and aptitude of the participants sufficient without the productive energy of forms; for desire and aptitude are of themselves imperfect. The prolific essence, therefore, of the demiurgic intellect exerts an efficacious energy, which the subject nature of sensibles receives. But, in effecting this participation, it neither makes use of impulsions, for it is incorporeal; nor of any indefinite impetus, as we do, for it is impassive; nor of any projectile force, for it is perfect; but it operates by its very essence. Hence, that which is generated is an image of its maker, intellection there concurring with essence: so that, according as he intellectually perceives, he fabricates; and, according as he fabricates, intellectually perceives. Hence, too, that which is generated is always generated by him; for, in essential productions, that which is generated is every where consubsistent with its maker. In consequence of this, in things subsisting according to time, form, in the sudden, supervenes its subject matter, whatever has been effected previous to its presence alone removing the impediments to its reception. For, the sudden imitates according to the now, the at-once-collected and eternal generation of all things through the aptitude of the recipient. If, again, we desire to see what it is which connects demiurgic power with the aptitude of recipients, we shall find it is goodness itself, this being the cause of all possible union. For, participations proceed to mundane causes through a desire of good; and demiurgic forms, through goodness, make their progressions into secondary natures, imitating the inexhaustible and exuberant fountain of all good, which, through its own transcendent goodness, gives subsistence to all the divine orders, if it be lawful so to speak. We have therefore these three causes of the participation of forms, the one goodness of the Father of all things; the demiurgic power of forms, and the aptitude of the natures which receive the illuminations of forms. But, participation subsisting according to these causes, we may perceive how it is possible to assimilate it to representations in a mirror, and to reflection. For aptitude and desire, which are imparted to sensible natures from on high, become the causes of their being again converted to the sources whence they were derived. This participation too may, after another manner, be assimilated to a seal. For the efficacious power of divine causes imparts a vestige of ideas to sensibles, and apparent impressions from unapparent forms. For we have said that the demiurgic cause unites both these together. But he who produces an icon effects something of this kind. For in a certain respect he congregates the subject and the paradigm; since, when this is accomplished, he produces an impression similar to the exemplar. So that these modes, in a certain respect, touch upon the truth. But it is by no means wonderful if each is found to be deficient. For the recipients of ideas are partible and sensible; and the characteristic peculiarity of these unapparent and divine causes cannot be circumscribed by the nothingness of corporeal natures.
[7] He who investigates whole and part, not corporeally, but in such a manner as is adapted to intelligible and immaterial forms, will perceive that every sensible nature participates both of the whole and the part of its paradigm. For, as that has the relation of a cause, but sensibles are from a cause, and effects can by no means receive the whole power of their causes, hence, sensibles do not participate of the whole form. For, where can that which is sensible receive the intellectual lives and powers of form? Where can the uniform and impartible nature of idea subsist in matter? Because however, sensibles preserve the idiom according to which the just in the intelligible world is called the just, or the beautiful the beautiful; through this again they may be said to participate of wholes, and not of parts. Thus, for instance, the idiom of the beautiful is every where and in all things; but in one place it is intellectually, and in another materially present. And it is evident that the participations of more perfect natures are more abundant than of those more remote from perfection; and that some things participate according to many, and others according to a few, powers. For, let the beautiful itself be an intellectual vital form the cause of symmetry. Form, therefore, and that which is effective of symmetry, are present to every thing beautiful: for this was the idiom of the beautiful itself; so that every thing participates of its whole idiom. But the intellectual nature of the beautiful is not present to all beauty, but to that which belongs to soul: for the beauty in this is uniform. Nor, again, is its vital nature present to all beauty, but to that which is celestial; but the splendour of beauty is seen in gold, and in certain stones. Some things, therefore, participate of the intellectual and vital nature of the beautiful; others of its vital separate from its intellectual nature; and others participate of its idiom alone. More immaterial natures, likewise, receive more of its powers than material natures. Things secondary, therefore, participate both the wholes and parts of their proper paradigms. And in this manner it is proper to speak to those who are able to look to the incorporeal essence of forms. But to those who are of opinion that the participation is corporeal, we must say, that sensibles are incapable of participating either the wholes or parts of ideas; which Parmenides evinces, leading Socrates to the discovery of the most proper mode of the participation of forms, and, in the first place, that they are not participated according to the whole; for this was the first thing to be shown. And Socrates says, that nothing hinders the participation of the whole form. But Parmenides reprobates the position inferring that one and the same thing will be in many things separate from each other, and so the thing itself will be separate from itself, which is of all things the most absurd. For if a finger, or any thing else which subsists in other things, whether it be a corporeal part or power, should be in many things separate from each other, it would also be separate from itself. For a corporeal power being in a subject will thus belong to subjects, and be separate from itself, since it will be both in one and many. And, with respect to a body, it is impossible that the whole of it should be in this place, and at the same time in another. For it cannot be denied, that many bodies may be in one place when the bodies consist of pure immaterial light, such as those of the spheres in which the planets are carried, but it is impossible for the same body to be at the same time in many places. And hence it is impossible for a whole to be in many subjects corporeally. But, says Proclus, if you wish to perceive the accuracy of Plato’s diction in a manner adapted to theological speculation, divide the words, and say as follows:—Since forms first subsist in the paradigm of intelligibles, as we learn in the Timæus, each of the first forms will be one, and being, and a whole. And being such, it is impossible for the same thing to be in many things separate from each other, and at once, except in an exempt manner; so as to be both every where and no where, and, being present with all things without time, to be unmingled with them. For every divine form, being in itself, is also present with others. And those natures which are incapable of being at the same time in many things, derive this inability from not being in themselves: for that which is something belonging to one thing is not capable of belonging to another.
[8] That Socrates, says Proclus, derived his example of day from the discourse of Zeno, is evident. For Zeno, wishing to evince how the many participate of a certain one, and are not destitute of the one, though they should be most remotely separated from each other, says in this very discourse, that whiteness, being one, is present both to us and the antipodes, in the same manner as day and night. Ὁτι μεν εκ του ζηνωνος λογου το παραδειγμα ειληφε, δηλον· εκεινος γαρ δηλωσαι βουλομενος ὁπως τα πολλα μετεχει τινος ενος, και ουκ εστιν ερημα ενος, κᾳν διεστηκει πορρωτατω απ’ αλληλων, ειπεν εν τῳ αυτῳ λογῳ μιαν ουσαν την λευκοτητα παρειναι και ἡμιν και τοις αντιποσιν, ὁυτως ὡς ευφροινην και την ημεραν. Parmenides, however, corrects Socrates, as no longer preserving, by the example of day, form one and the same; but as introducing the partible instead of the impartible, and that which is one, and at the same time not one, instead of one; such as is whiteness with us and the antipodes. For the intention of Zeno’s discourse was not to ascend to separate form, but to lead his auditors to that form which subsists with, and is inseparable from, the many.
[9] Every thing sensible is a multitude which has an adventitious one, but form is a certain one comprehending multitude uniformly. For in divine natures progression begins from the one, and from hyparxis; since, if multitude subsists prior to the one, the one will be adventitious. From these things also, says Proclus, you may understand how fables assert that there are certain divisions and lacerations of the Gods, when they are divisibly participated by secondary natures, which distribute the impartible causes of things partible presubsisting in the Gods. For the division is not in reality of the divinities, but of these secondary natures, about them.
[10] Parmenides, says Proclus, wishing to show the absurdity of admitting that a formal essence is partible, discourses concerning magnitude, equality, and parvitude, because each of these is beheld about quantity. But quantity has not by any means a part the same with the whole, in the same manner as a part of quality appears to preserve the same power with the whole; whence also a part of fire is indeed diminished according to quantity, but according to quality preserves the nature of fire. In magnitude, therefore, equality, and parvitude, he very properly confutes those who say that forms are partible. For, if those forms which especially appear to be partible, because they introduce with themselves the conception of quantity, cannot be divisible, by a much greater reason other forms must be impartible, which do not introduce together with themselves such a conception; such as are the just itself, the beautiful itself, the similar itself, and the dissimilar itself, which Parmenides co-ordinating with magnitude itself inquires how they are participated by sensibles. About these, therefore, which appear to be quantities, he very properly forms the demonstration, and, in the first place, about magnitude. For, let magnitude be corporeally divisible. The part, therefore, will be less than the whole; and, if this be the case, the whole will be greater than the part. So that, if sensible magnitude receiving a part of magnitude in the intelligible world, i. e. of magnitude itself, becomes great, this very thing is called great from receiving that which is smaller: for a part of magnitude itself is less and smaller. But it is supposed that things which participate of the great are great, and that things which participate of the small are small. Let us however consider magnitude itself by itself, apart from corporeal division. Do we not, therefore, say that it has multitude, and is not one alone? But, if it has multitude, shall we say that each of its parts is magnitude itself, or that each is less than the whole, but is by no means small? For, if a part is magnitude itself, in no respect less than the whole, there will be a progression to infinity; since this will not only be the case with this part, but also with its parts, and the parts of its parts, the parts always being the same with the wholes. But if magnitude has not magnitudes as its parts, the whole will consist from parts unadapted to it. It is necessary, therefore, that the parts as it were of magnitude itself should be magnitudes, according with the whole, but yet not that which the whole is. For the part of fire is fire, but the power of the whole is greater than that of the part; and neither does the whole consist from cold parts, nor is each part of equal strength with the whole. Hence we must conceive that magnitude itself has twofold powers, one of which inserts transcendency in incorporeals with respect to incorporeals; for in these there is a certain magnitude, and the other in bodies with respect to bodies. So that, though form possesses abundance of power, yet it does not depart from its proper idiom in the multitude of the powers which it contains. By speculating intellectually in this manner parts and wholes in ideas, we shall avoid the absurdities with which Parmenides shows the speculation of them in a corporeal manner is attended.
[11] Magnitude itself is the source of transcendency and exempt perfection to all things, whether such transcendency and perfection be intellectual, or vital, or subsisting with interval. But the equal is the cause of harmony and analogy to all things: for from equality, as we shall show in the Additional Notes to the Timæus, all the mediums are derived, as well those belonging to the soul and such as are physical, as those that are mathematical; and the end of it is friendship and union. Since therefore the demiurgus, in adorning the universe, employed all the mediums, and the arithmetical, geometrical, and harmonic bonds proceeding from these, it may be safely inferred that the one intellectual cause of these, which generates and adorns them, is this demiurgic equality. For, as the monad which subsists in the demiurgus gives subsistence to every natural number, so the equality which is there, generates all the mediums or middles which are here; since also the equality which is contained in our dianoëtic part generates the mathematical mediums. But, if this be the case in images, much more in intellectual forms is equality the prolific source of all the variety of mediums which proceed about the world. Equality, therefore, is the cause of these to all mundane natures. It is likewise the supplier of co-ordination to beings; just as magnitude is the cause of exempt perfection, and parvi- tude of essential subjection. It appears, indeed, that all beings are adorned from this triad of forms, as they impart transcendency to superior natures, subjection to such as are inferior, and a communion of the same series to such as are co-ordinate. And it is evident that the perpetually indissoluble series of wholes are generated according to this triad. For every series requires these three, viz. transcendency, co-ordination and subjec- tion. So that, if there are certain progressions of every form from on high, as far as to the last of things, and which, together with communion, preserve the distinction between things second and first, they are perfected through this triad. Let us now see how Parmenides confutes those who think that sensible equals participate parts of equality itself corporeally. For, if any sensible particular thus participates a part of equality, it is evident that it participates of something less than the whole. But, if this be the case, that which participates of the lesser is no longer lesser, but equal. It ought not however to be so; since it is agreed that forms give the appellations of themselves to sensibles. Hence that which participates of the lesser must not be called equal, but lesser; nor must that which participates of the equal be called lesser, but equal; nor that which participates of the greater be denominated equal or lesser, but greater. If, therefore, we direct our view to equality itself as an incorporeal essence, we must say that being one it contains in itself the causes of all equalities, viz. of the equality in weights, in corporeal masses, in multitudes, in dignities and in generations; so that each of such-like particulars, which are all-various, is a certain equal, possessing a power and dignity subordinate to the whole. Since every form, therefore, generates all the idioms of the powers which it contains, it follows that there are many equalities comprehended under one equality. Nor ought we to wonder if all equalities, being subordinate to their comprehending unity, suffer this through the participation of parvitude itself. For all forms communicate with all; and magnitude itself, so far as it possesses a lesser power than other forms, participates of parvitude. Parvitude itself also, so far as it surpasses other forms, participates of magnitude itself; while in the mean time every form is participated by sensibles so far as it is that which it is, and not so far as it communicates with others.
[12] Parvitude itself may be considered as that which is the source of subjection in all forms, or it may be said to be that which supplies impartibility, connected continuity, and a power which converges to the same in every form. For through this souls are able to proceed from a life extended with body and sense to a more impartible form of life. Through this also bodies are compressed and connectedly contained in their indivisible causes; the whole world is one, and possesses the whole of its life converging in one thing, the middle; and from this the poles and centres, and all impartible sections, and contacts of circles, are derived. But the present discourse evinces that it is impossible for sensibles to participate a part of parvitude corporeally. For, if parvitude itself had a certain part, it would be greater than its part; since a part of the small, so far as it is a part, must be smaller than the whole: so that the small will evidently be greater than its proper part, which is smaller than it. But it is impossible that the small simply considered should be greater. For we now consider parvitude itself by itself, without any connection with magnitude. And such is the absurdity attending those that divide parvitude when such division is considered in the form itself. But we may also investigate another absurdity which takes place in the participants of parvitude, and which is as follows: If we divide the small itself, since the part of it is, as has been shown, smaller than the whole, it is evident that the thing, to which the part taken away from the whole of the small is added, will become greater by this addition, and not smaller. Hence parvitude must not be divided. We may also, says Proclus, interpret the present passage in the same manner as our associate Pericles. For, to whatever the part taken away from the small is added, this must necessarily become greater; but, by adding to that same thing the remaining part of the small thus divided, the whole thing will become small, and not greater than it was before: for the form was small from the beginning. It is absurd, therefore, to think that the small can be divided. Proclus adds, that the present passage to some appeared so difficult, that they considered it as spurious. The words of Parmenides however, by introducing certain ablations and additions, evince that the participation which he reprobates is corporeal. But we may assert in common, says Proclus, respecting these three forms, magnitude, parvitude, and equality, or rather concerning all forms at once, that they are impartible, and are allotted an incorporeal essence. For every thing corporeal, being bounded according to interval, cannot after the same manner be present to things greater and lesser; but the equal, the greater, the lesser, and, in a similar manner, every other form are present to their participants, whatever interval they may possess. All forms, therefore, are without interval. For the same reason they are also established above all place; since without impediment they are every where present to their participants. But things which subsist in place are naturally destitute of this unimpeded presence: for it is impossible that they can be participated by all things which are arranged in different places. In like manner, forms are entirely expanded above all time: for they are present untemporally and collectively to all things; since generations themselves are certain preparations which precede the participations of forms. And generations indeed subsist in time, but forms give the participations of themselves to generated natures, in an instant, impartibly, without being in any respect indigent of temporal extension. Let not, therefore, any one transfer from participants to the things participated, either time, or local comprehension, or corporeal division; nor let him, in short, understand in forms either corporeal compositions or separations. For these things are very remote from the immaterial simplicity of forms, and from the purity of an impartible essence which is contained in eternity.
[13] The whole form of these words, says Proclus, is excitative and maieutic of the conceptions of Socrates. Hence Parmenides does not add, like one who contends for victory in disputation, “sensibles, therefore, do not participate of forms,” but he excites Socrates, and calls forth his intellect to the discovery of the most proper mode of participation. But we have already observed that whole and part are not to be considered corporeally, but in a manner accommodated to immaterial and intellectual essences. Sensibles, therefore, participate both the whole and the parts of form. For, so far as the idiom of every form proceeds in its participants as far as to the last of them, the participation is that of a whole; but, so far as things secondary do not receive all the power of their causes, the participation is of parts. Hence the more elevated of participants receive more powers of the paradigm; but the more subordinate, fewer. So that, if there are men in other parts of the universe better than us, these, being nearer the idea of man, will have a greater communion with it, and according to a greater number of powers. Hence the celestial lion is intellectual, but the sublunary irrational: for the former is nearer to the idea of lion than the latter. The idiom indeed of idea pervades as far as to mortal natures; and hence things sublunary sympathize with things celestial. For one form, and communion according to this, produce the sympathy. The moon also, says Proclus, as beheld in the heavens is a divinity; but the lunar form, which is beheld here in stones, preserves also a power appropriate to the lunar order, since it increases and decreases in conformity to the changes of the moon. Thus, one idiom proceeds from on high as far as to the last of things; and it is evident that it proceeds through mediums. For, if there is this one form both in Gods and stones, much prior to its being present with the latter must it subsist in the middle genera, such as dæmons, or other animals. For certain series pervade from the intellectual Gods to the heavens, and again from the heavens into generation or the sublunary realms, being changed according to each of the elements, and subsiding as far as to earth. But of these series the higher parts participate in a greater, but the lower in a lesser degree; one idiom being extended to all the parts, which makes the whole series one. Again, after another manner, we may say that sensibles participate both of the whole and of the parts of form. They participate of the whole, so far as the fabrication of form is impartible; whence also the same whole is every where present to all things, subsisting from itself in the first place, and afterwards filling the essence of its participants with its proper power. But they participate of the parts of form, so far as they do not participate of form itself, but of its images; and images are parts of their proper paradigms. For image is to its paradigm, as a part to the whole. And if any one, admitting this exposition, examines what has been already delivered concerning ideas, none of those impossibilities will follow, which some of the antients have considered as the inevitable consequences of the doctrine of ideas. For, will it any longer be impossible that the same thing should be in all things, if we admit that an immaterial and intellectual form subsisting in itself, and requiring no seat nor place, is equally present to all things which are able to participate it? Will it be impossible that essentially impartible form, and which pre-subsists as one, should be divided in its participants and sustain a Titanic divulsion? And how is it not most true that what participates of magnitude itself participates of the lesser? For magnitude in the participant, being divisible, is the image of magnitude itself; but the image is less than the paradigm by a certain part. In like manner, that which we call equal in sensibles is less than the power of the equal itself, and is nothing more than the image of perfection; but the equal itself is greater than this, so far as it is more perfect in power. In short, with respect to each of these three forms, since they are exempt from their participants, measure their essence, and impart the cause of subjection to them; according to exempt transcendency, each employs magnitude itself; according to a measuring power, the equal itself; and according to the gift of subjection, parvitude itself. All, therefore, co-operate with each other in the gifts which they impart to secondary natures. For, if magnitude itself imparts a power which extends to all things, but parvitude impartibility, they are connascent with each other; since then pervading more impartibly to a great number of particulars, they are impartible in a greater degree: and both are in a greater degree equal, by being especially the measures both of themselves and others. There is nothing, therefore, absurd, nothing impossible, if whole and part are considered in a manner adapted to the nature of forms; but all things follow appropriately to the hypothesis. Whence also Parmenides appears continually to ask Socrates, how sensibles participate of, and how whole and part are to be surveyed in, forms, elevating him to the most true conceptions concerning ideas.
[14] From what has been already delivered (says Proclus) it is sufficiently evident that forms are not participated in a corporeal manner; whence we may infer that neither do they fabricate corporeally, nor operate by impulsion, like the motions of bodies. But if this be the case, it is evident that the order of forms is incorporeal. In the Sophista, therefore, it is shown that the one is incorporeal; for, if it were body, it would require something else to unite its parts. But it is here shown that true being and intellectual forms have an impartible subsistence: and in the Laws, that souls are incorporeal through their self-motive hypostasis. These, however, are the three orders prior to sensibles, viz. the order of souls, the order of intellectual essences, and the order of unities, the immediate progeny of the one. But here Parmenides ascends to a more perfect hypothesis concerning ideas, viz. whether sensibles participate of ideas as of physical reasons or productive principles, which are coordinate and connascent with their participants, but are at the same time incorporeal: for the doubt prior to this considered the participation of ideas as corporeal. Parmenides, therefore, ascends to a certain incorporeal reason, which, looking to things, we must define to be physical, and must assert, that the mode of participation is indeed incorporeal, but possesses something common with its participants. For if, together with incorporeal participation, we also consider the things participated as perfectly exempt from their participants, there will no longer any doubt remain concerning the participation; since these two things produce the doubt, the corporeal mode of being present, and the possession of something common between ideas and their participants, to which Socrates looking in the Phædo says, that it is dubious whether participation is the presence of forms, as in the preceding inquiry, whether sensibles participate of the whole of form, or only of a part; or whether it is not a being present. This second inquiry, therefore, considers form as in its participants, and as coordinate with them. For physical reasons and natures are arranged above bodies and the apparent order of forms; but at the same time they verge to bodies, and do
[15] Ideas must be considered as exempt and separate from, and as generative of, the many; and the transitions from things which are separated must be made, not through privations, but through forms, and in forms, till we arrive at self-subsistent and first natures. For how, through things indefinite and formless, can we arrive at form and bound? Ascending, indeed, from things material to spermatic reasons, we shall find something common in them, but which is imperfect; and proceeding from these to causes subsisting in soul, we shall perceive that the effective power of these is temporal. But if we run back to forms which are truly so called, we shall find that there is nothing common between these and sensibles. For these true forms are perfect, and their energy is incorporeal and eternal, and is above all generation. For the characteristics of all generation are the imperfect from itself, the partible, the temporal, from which forms being purified, they are liberated from all sensibles, and possess nothing in common with them; so that it is no longer possible to make a transition to any other something common. As, therefore, says Proclus, we observed in commenting on the former doubt, that forms are present with their participants through that which they impart, and are not present through their separate hypostasis; so, with respect to this second doubt, we say, that forms communicate with their participants, and do not communicate. They communicate by illuminating them from themselves, but do not communicate, in consequence of being unmingled with the illuminated natures. So that a certain similitude to them is divulsed, not from forms themselves, but from the illuminations proceeding from them. Hence, through these they are said to communicate after a certain manner with sensibles; not as in things synonymous, but as in things second and first. not connect them exemptly. Hence, also, physical reasons are entirely coordinated with sensible forms. But Parmenides himself clearly teaches how we ascend to physical reasons; since we recur from things common in particulars to the proximate cause of them, which is entirely physical form. For, perceiving many things that are great, and one idea extending to all these, we conceive that there is a certain something great which is common to the magnitude in particulars. But that the discourse is about physical form, and a transition from sensibles to this form, is evident, as Proclus justly observes, from Parmenides employing such expressions as το οιεσθαι, το δοξει, το δοκει, το ηγη, and the like, which could not be employed about things which are objects of science, but are only adapted to physical concerns. In like manner we must say, with respect to men, that we see many men, and one idea extending to all of them, the man in particulars. Whence we think that one man pre-subsists in the reasons or productive principles of nature, generative of the apparent man, and that thus the many participate of the one, as of physical reason proceeding into matter; such reason or form not being separate from matter, but resembling a seal verging to the wax, impressing in it the form which it contains, and causing it to be adapted to the whole of the inserted form. As the proximate transition, therefore, is from bodies to natures, Parmenides evinces that physical reasons fall short of the perfection of ideas, which is primary and unmingled with its participants. From hence it may be inferred, that, as form is that primarily which the multitude under it is secondarily, it neither communicates with this multitude according to name alone, nor is synonymous with it; and that it is not necessary again to investigate that which is common to form and its depending multitude. When, therefore, we consider the one in every form, we ought not to investigate it either doxastically or dianoëtically: for these knowledges are not connate with intellectual monads, which neither belong to the objects of opinion, nor to those of the dianoëtic part, as we learn from the sixth book of the Republic. But it is fit that we should survey the simple and uniform essence of forms through intellectual intuition. Nor must we conceive that the one in these subsists according to composition from the many, or by an abstraction from particulars: for the intellectual number of forms proceeds from the good and the one, and does not depart from a union and alliance adapted to the cause which gave it subsistence. Hence, Socrates in the Philebus, at one time calls ideas unities, and at another time monads. For, considered with relation to the one, they are monads, because each is a multitude, since it is a certain being, life, and intellectual form; but considered with relation to their productions, and the series to which they give subsistence, they are unities; for things posterior to them are multiplied, and from their impartible essence become partible. If, therefore, that which is characterized by unity in forms is exempt from the many, it is evident that the knowledge of intellect, which is profoundly one, is sufficient to the apprehension of the one of forms. Whether, therefore, there is a multitude of participants, it does not multiply the unity of that which is participated; or, whether there are differences of parts in the participants, the impartible nature of forms is preserved immutable; or, whether there is composition in that which participates, the simplicity of intellectual forms remains eternally the same. For they are neither connumerated with their effects, nor do they give completion to their essence; since, if they subsisted in their productions, they could not be beheld as the principle of them, and as their prolific cause. For, in short, every thing which is something belonging to another cannot be a cause, simply considered; since every true cause is exempt from its effects, and is established in itself and from itself, separate from its participants. He, therefore, who is willing to pass from these sensibles, and every way divided natures, to forms themselves, must permit intellect instead of opinion to be the leader of the way, and must contemplate every form uncoordinated and unmingled with objects of sense; neither conceiving that they possess any habitude with sensibles, nor surveying any common definition of essence between them and the many, nor, in short, any coordination of participants and the things which are participated. But he who uses opinion in this transition, and apprehends forms mingled with sensibles, and connumerated with material reasons, will scarcely ascend as far as to nature, and the physical order of forms: whence, again, he must after these contemplate other more total monads, and this to infinity, till, arriving at intellectual boundaries themselves, he beholds in these self-subsisting, most simple, and eternal natures, the definite derivation of forms. Parmenides, therefore, gradually evinces that primary are expanded above divisible forms, and all that is mingled and connumerated with these, and this according to a wonderful transcendency of nature. And here, what Socrates observes in the Phædo respecting the participation of forms, is worthy of admiration: for he there says, that he cannot yet strenuously affirm whether it is requisite to call this participation presence, or communion, or any thing else besides these. For, from the first doubt, it may be evinced that it is impossible for the participation to be presence, since neither the whole, nor certain parts of them, are able to be present with their participants. But, from this second doubt, we may confute those who contend that the participation is communion. If, therefore, there is any thing common to ideas and their participants, there will be a transition ad infinitum from the participants of that which is common to that which is common; and hence this latter doubt is different from the former. For the former was, that form is present with its participants, and is something belonging to them; but the latter, that form is different from its participant, but possesses an abundant communion with it. Hence, in the former, the argument proceeds from the inability of form being present, either according to the whole or a part of itself; but, in the latter, it no longer proceeds in a similar manner, but, from that which is common in form and its participant, again ascends to something else which is more common than the one form, and the many by which it is participated. He alone, therefore, can assign a scientific reason concerning the participation of forms, who takes away that which is corporeal in their being present, and removes that which is common from an incorporeal essence. For thus ideas will be incorporeally present with their participants, but will not be subdued by one relation towards them; that they may be every where, through their incorporeal nature, and no where, in consequence of being exempt from their participants. For a communion with participants takes away exempt transcendency. For it is requisite, indeed, that there should be communion, yet not as of things coordinate, but only so far as participants are suspended from ideas; but ideas are perfectly exempt from their participants. Corporeal presence, however, obscures a presence every way impartible. Bodies therefore, are things incapable of being wholly in many things; but essentially incorporeal natures are wholly present to things which are able to participate them; or, rather, they are not present to their participants, but their participants are present to them. And this is what Socrates obscurely signifies in the Phædo, when he says, “whether presence, or communion, or any thing else may be the cause of the participation of forms.” Forms, therefore, must not be admitted to be the progeny and blossoms of matter, as they were said to be by the Stoics; nor must it be granted that they consist from a comixture of simple elements; nor that they have the same essence with spermatic reasons. For all these things evince their subsistence to be corporeal, imperfect, and divisible. Whence, then, on such an hypothesis, is perfection derived to things imperfect? Whence union to things every way dissipated? Whence is a never-failing essence present with things perpetually generated, unless the incorporeal and all-perfect order of forms has a subsistence prior to these? Others again, of the antients, says Proclus, assigned that which is common in particulars as the cause of the permanency in forms: for man generates man, and the similar is produced from the similar. They ought, however, at the same time, to have directed their attention to that which gives subsistence to what is common in particulars: for, as we have before observed, true causes are exempt from their effects. That which is common, therefore, in particulars, may be assimilated to one and the same seal which is impressed in many pieces of wax, and which remains the same, without failing, while the pieces of wax are changed. What, then, is it which proximately impresses this seal in the wax? For matter is analogous to the wax, the sensible man to the type, and that which is common in particulars, and verges to things, to the ring itself. What else, then, can we assign as the cause of this, than nature proceeding through matter, and thus giving form to that which is sensible, by her own inherent reasons? Soul, therefore, will thus be analogous to the hand which uses the ring, since soul is the leader of nature; that which ranks as a whole of the whole of nature, and that which is partial of a partial nature. But intellect will be analogous to the soul which impresses the wax through the hand and the ring; which intellect fills that which is sensible through soul and the nature of forms, and is itself the true Porus¹⁶, generative of the reasons which flow, as far as to matter. It is not necessary, therefore, to stop at the things common in particulars, but we should investigate the causes of them. For why do men participate of this peculiar something which is common, but another animal of a different something common, except through unapparent reasons? For nature is the one mother of all things; but what are the causes of definite similitudes? And why do we say the generation is according to nature when man is from man, unless there is a reason of men in nature, according to which all sensible men subsist? For it is not because that which is produced is an animal, since if it were a lion that was produced from a man, it would be a natural animal indeed, but would no longer be according to nature, because it would not be generated according to a proper reason. It is necessary, therefore, that there should be another cause of similars prior to similars; and hence it is necessary to recur from the things common in particulars to the one cause which proximately gives subsistence to sensibles, and to which Parmenides himself leads us. That he does not, however, think it proper that we should stop at this cause, he manifests from what follows. For if, looking to these things which are common, we wish, beginning from these, to fashion ideas, in consequence of recurring in a similar manner to them from all things, we shall be in want not only of things of which there are ideas, but also of those of which there are not, such as of things contrary to nature, of things artificial, of things unessential, and of such as have no subsistence, such as an animal mingled from a goat and stag, (τραγελαφος), or an animal mingled from a horse and centaur, (ἱπποκενταυρος); for there are also things common in these, and thus we shall establish ideas of non-entities. To which we may add, that we must likewise admit that there are ideas of infinities, as of irrational lines, and the ratios in numbers: for both these are infinite, and of both there are things common. If, therefore, we fashion certain ideas from these, we shall often make infinities, though it is requisite that ideas should be less numerous than their participants, the participants of each, at the same time, being many. Very properly, therefore, does Parmenides direct the mode of transition to ideas, as not being scientific, if it proceeds from the things common in sensibles; for it will always be possible to conceive different things common, and thus to proceed ad infinitum. But this is evident from the words that immediately follow.
[16] See the speech of Diotima in the Banquet.
[17] The fourth problem concerning ideas is here considered, viz. what kind of beings they are, or in other words, where they subsist, whether in souls, or prior to souls. Socrates, therefore, being separated by Parmenides from physical forms, calls idea a conception belonging to the soul, (νοημα ψυχικον), and defines the place of it to be soul. For the form in soul is one and incorporeal; and this dogma is not attended with the former difficulties. For this form is exempt from the many, and is not co-ordinate with them like the forms in matter, in consequence of being allotted a subsistence in soul. There is likewise nothing common between this form and the many; nor is it either according to the whole, or a part of itself, in its participants, so that it may be shown to be separate from itself, or to have a partible subsistence. Socrates, therefore, by adopting this dogma, avoids the above-mentioned doubts. But, says Proclus, when Socrates calls idea a conception (νοημα), we must not think that he asserts it to be that which is the object of intellectual vision, (το νοουμενον) in the same manner as we call that which is apprehended by sense sensible (ὡς αισθημα φαμεν το τῃ αισθησει ληπτου); but that intelligence itself understanding form, is here called a conception; being so denominated as a certain theorem and dogma ingenerated in souls, about dogmatized and deiform concerns. (Ὁυτω νοημα λεγομενον ὡς θεωρημα τι και δογμα εν ταις ψυχαις εγγινομενον περι των δογματιζομενων και θεοειδων πραγματων). This conception, therefore, he says is in- generated in souls, through the word ingenerated, (εγγινεσθαι), manifesting that it does not subsist in them essentially. And this is that form of posterior origin (το υστερογενες ειδος), which some of the followers of Aristotle, and most of the moderns, so much celebrate, but which is entirely different from that reason or form which abides essentially in souls, and does not derive its subsistence from an abstraction from sensibles. Looking to this essential reason we say, that the soul is all forms, and is the place of forms, not in capacity only, but in that kind of energy, through which we call one skilled in geometry a geometrician in energy, even when he does not geometrize, and which Aristotle accurately calls the prior form of being in energy. This, therefore, which is denominated a conception, as of posterior origin, is very properly said to be different from the essential reason of the soul: for it is more obscure than the many in sensibles, as being posterior and not prior to them. But the essential reason or form of the soul is more perfect, because the conception of posterior origin, or in modern language, abstract idea, has a less essence than the many, but the essential form more. That it is not, however, proper to stop at conceptions of posterior origin, i. e. notions gained by an abstraction from sensible particulars, but that we should proceed to those essential reasons which are allotted a perpetual subsistence within the soul, is evident to those who are able to survey the nature of things. For, whence is man able to collect into one by reasoning the perceptions of many senses, and to consider one and the same unapparent form prior to things apparent, and separated from each other; but no other animal that we are acquainted with, surveys this something common, for neither does it possess a rational essence, but alone employs sense, and appetite, and imagination? Whence, then, do rational souls generate these universals, and recur from the senses to that which is the object of opinion? It is because they essentially possess the gnostically productive principles of things: for, as nature possesses a power productive of sensibles, by containing reasons, or productive principles, and fashions, and connects sensibles, so as by the inward eye to form the external, and in a similar manner the finger, and every other particular; so he who has a common conception of these, by previously possessing the reasons of things, beholds that which each possesses in common. For he does not receive this common something from sensibles; since that which is received from sensibles is a phantasm, and not the object of opinion. It likewise remains within such as it was received from the beginning, that it may not be false, and a non-entity, but does not become more perfect and venerable, nor does it originate from any thing else than the soul. Indeed, it must not be admitted that nature in generating generates by natural reasons and measures, but that soul in generating does not generate by animastic reasons and causes. But if matter possesses that which is common in the many, and this something common is essential, and more essence than individuals; for this is perpetual, but each of those is corruptible, and they derive their very being from this, since it is through form that every thing partakes of essence,—if this be the case, and soul alone possesses things common which are of posterior origin (ὑστερογενη κοινα), do we not make the soul more ignoble than matter? For the form which is merged in matter will be more perfect and more essence than that which resides in the soul; since the latter is of posterior origin, but the former is perpetual; and the one is after, but the other generative and connective of the many. To which we may add, that a common phantasm in the soul derives its subsistence from a survey of that which is common in particulars. Hence it tends to this; for every thing adheres to its principle, and is said to be nothing else than a predicate; so that its very essence is to be predicated of the many. Further still: the universal in the many is less than each of the many; for by certain additions and accidents it is surpassed by every individual. But that which is of posterior origin (i. e. universal abstracted from particulars) comprehends each of the many. Hence it is predicated of each of these; and that which is particular is contained in the whole of this universal. For this something common, or abstract idea, is not only predicated of that something common in an individual, but likewise of the whole subject. How then can it thence derive its subsistence, and be completed from that which is common in the many? For, if from the many themselves, where do we see infinite men, of all which we predicate the same thing? And if from that which is common in the many, whence is it that this abstract idea is more comprehensive than its cause? Hence it has a different origin, and receives from another form this power which is comprehensive of every individual; and of this form the abstract idea which subsists in opinion is an image, the inward cause being excited from things apparent. To which we may add, that all demonstration, as Aristotle has shown in his Last Analytics, is from things prior, more honourable, and more universal. How, therefore, is universal more honourable, if it is of posterior origin? For, in things of posterior origin, that which is more universal is more unessential; whence species is more essence than genius. The rules, therefore, concerning the most true demonstration must be subverted, if we alone place in the soul universals of posterior origin: for these are not more excellent than, nor are the causes of, nor are naturally prior to, particulars. If, therefore, these things are absurd, it is necessary that essential reasons should subsist in the soul prior to universals, which are produced by an abstraction from sensibles. And these reasons or productive powers are indeed always exerted, and are always efficacious in divine souls, and in the more excellent orders of beings; but in us they are sometimes dormant, and sometimes in energy.
[18] From the things common in particulars, it is necessary to recur to physical form, which is proximate to these; and after this to the reason or form in the soul which is of posterior origin, or which derives it subsistence from an abstraction from sensibles, and is a conception ingenerated in the soul. But when we have arrived thus far, it is requisite to pass on to the conception of the essential reason of the soul, and from this to make a transition to being itself, to which also Socrates is now led through the obstetric arguments of Parmenides. As in intellect, therefore, that which understands, intelligence, and the intelligible, are united to each other, and intellectual conception every where pertains to the intelligible, it is evident that the intelligible is prior to intellectual conception, in which intelligible, the reason in the soul being firmly fixed, is a noëma, or intellectual conception. Hence, we must not stop in ascending from one form to another, till we arrive at true beings, or, in other words, intelligibles. For though we shall find that intellect and intelligibles are connately united to each other, yet intellect is a plenitude of forms according to the intelligible which it contains. And as we unite intellect and the intelligible to each other, so we should consider intelligibles to be the same with beings. For intellect being in itself, and intellectually perceiving itself, is at the same time full of intelligibles. And, as among sensibles, whatever is apparently one, is in reality a multitude; so in intelligibles, intellectual conception and being, which are two things, are profoundly absorbed in unity.
[19] If all things participate of forms, but all things do not participate of intellectual conceptions, forms or ideas will not primarily be intellectual conceptions. For one of these three things must happen, either that things which participate of intellectual conceptions do not participate of intellection, or that forms are not intellectual conceptions, or that things which are destitute of intelligence do not participate of forms, of which three the first and last are perfectly absurd. For every thing which participates of intellectual conception, understands intellectually, since the word noëma manifests intelligence; and things deprived of intelligence participate of forms; for inanimate natures participate of the equal, the lesser, and the greater, which are forms. Ideas, therefore, are not intellectual conceptions, nor are they essentiallized in intellections, but in intelligibles. We must ascend, therefore, from things partible to the impartible reasons of nature, which do not intellectually perceive the things prior to themselves: for nature is not only deprived of intelligence, but is also irrational and destitute of phantasy. In the next place, we must rise from these to the intelligibles which are proximately placed above physical forms, and are the energies of the intellective soul, according to the position of Socrates concerning them: for he says, that they are ingenerated in the soul, and are noëmata, as being intellections of the soul. But from these we must ascend to true intelligibles: for these are able to be the causes of all things which have a formal subsistence, but this cannot be asserted of such things as are intellectual conceptions only. Here, however, as Proclus well observes, it is worth while to enquire, why, since all things subsist intellectually in intellect, all sensible natures in consequence of participating forms do not intellectually energize? and why, since all things there possess life, all things that are assimilated to them do not live? The answer is, that the progression of beings gradually subsiding from the first to the last of things, obscures the participations of wholes and all-perfect essences. Demiurgic energy also pervading through all things, gives subsistence to all things, according to different measures of essence; and besides this, all things do not similarly participate of the same form. For some things participate of it in a greater, and others in a lesser degree; and some things are assimilated to form according to one power, others according to two, and others according to many powers. Whence also there are certain series which beginning supernally extend as far as to things beneath. Thus, for instance, says Proclus, the form of the moon is beheld first of all in the Gods according to that which is characterized by the one and the good in form: for all things are deified from the good, as Socrates says in the sixth book of the Republic, through the light of truth. This form is also beheld in angels, according to that which is intellectual in form; and in dæmons, according to the dianoëtic energy. It is likewise beheld in animals which are no longer able to imitate it intellectually, but vitally. Hence, the Egyptian Apis, and the lunar fish, and many other animals, differently imitate the celestial form of the moon. And this form is beheld in the last place in stones; so that there is a certain stone suspended from this form, and which sustains augmentations and diminutions, together with the moon in the heavens, though it is deprived of life. It must not, therefore, be supposed that all things receive all the powers of forms, but, together with proper subjection, some things receive a greater, and others a lesser, number of these; while that alone which is the idiom of the participated form, and according to which it differs from other forms, is necessarily seen in all its participants. To which we may add, that the participation being different, the subordinate idioms of forms first desert the participants, and afterwards those that are more total than these; but those idioms which are primary, and are particularly allied to the one, are similarly apparent in all the productions of form. For every form is one and a multitude, the multitude not giving subsistence to the one according to composition, but the one producing the many idioms of the form. Form, therefore, uniformly is, and lives, and intellectually energizes; but with respect to its progeny, some participate of all these, others of more or less of them, and others of one idiom alone. Since also in forms themselves, their intellectual nature is derived from the first intellect, their life from imparticipable, or the first life, their being from the first being, and the one which they contain from the unity which is beyond beings.
[20] Socrates, says Proclus, being led by the obstetrication of Parmenides to the intelligible essence of forms, thinks that here especially, the order and the mode of the participation of forms should be investigated; asserting, indeed, that forms themselves are established in nature, but that other things are generated as their resemblances. Having, therefore, thus explored the order of forms, he at the same time introduces the mode of participation, and dissolves the former doubts, that he may not be compelled to say that sensibles participate either of the whole or a part of form, or that forms are coordinate with sensibles. For a paradigm is not present with its image, nor coordinate with it. The participation, therefore, is through similitude; which Socrates introduces, calling forms paradigms, but their participants resemblances. And so confident is he in these assertions, that he who before swore that it was not easy to define what the participation of forms is, now says that the mode of participation is eminently apparent to him. But he is thus affected through his acuteness, and the power of Parmenides perfecting his spontaneous conceptions concerning divine natures; by which it is also evident that the manner of what is said is maieutic, or obstetric, and not contending for victory (καταγωνιστικος). For it would not otherwise advance Socrates, and perpetually perfect his conceptions. For the end of obstetrication is the evocation of inward knowledge, but of contention, victory. If, therefore, Socrates by every doubt advances, and is perfected, and distinctly evolves his conceptions concerning primary forms, we must say that he is rather obstetricated than vanquished by Parmenides. This being premised, let us see how the hypothesis of Socrates approximates to the truth, but does not yet possess the perfect. For he is right in apprehending that forms are intellectual and truly paradigms, and in defining their idiom, by asserting that they are established; and further still, in admitting that other things are assimilated to them. For the stable and a perpetual sameness of subsistence are the idioms of eternally energizing forms. For, in the Politicus, it is said that a subsistence according to the same, and after the same manner, belongs only to the most divine of all things; and the Eleatean guest, in the Sophista, defines the being established (το ἑσταναι) to be nothing else than a subsistence according to the same, and after the same manner. If, therefore, Socrates also says, that forms are established, but things established subsist according to the same and after the same manner, and things which thus subsist are the most divine of all things, it is evident that forms will be most divine. Hence, they will no longer be the conceptions of souls, but will be exempt from every thing of this kind. These things, therefore, are rightly asserted; and Socrates also very properly admits union in forms prior to multitude. For the words in nature (ἐν τῃ φυσει) manifest the one enad or unity of forms. It is usual indeed with Plato to give the appellation of nature to intelligibles. For Socrates, in the Philebus, says, that a royal intellect, and a royal soul, subsist in the nature of Jupiter; and Timæus says, “the nature of animal itself being eternal,” signifying by na- ture the monad of intelligible ideas. Such, therefore, is that which is now called nature, viz. the one unity and comprehension of intelligible forms. And thus far, as we have said, Socrates is right. However, as he only attributes a paradigmatic idiom to ideas, and does not assert that they also perfect, guard, and unite, in this respect he will appear to have yet imperfectly apprehended the theory concerning them. For every form is not only the paradigm of sensibles, but also gives subsistence to them; since if it were alone paradigmatic, another nature would be requisite, in order to produce and assimilate sensibles to forms, which would thus remain sluggish and unmoved, without any efficacious power, and resembling impressions in wax. Forms, therefore, produce and generate their images: for it would be absurd that the reasons in nature should possess a certain effective power, but that intelligible forms should be deprived of it. Hence, every divine form is not only paradigmatic, but also paternal, and is by its very essence a cause generative of the many. It is also perfective: for it leads sensibles from the imperfect to the perfect, fills up their indigence, and brings matter, which is all things in capacity, to become that in energy which it was in capacity, prior to its becoming specific. Forms, therefore, contain in themselves this perfective power. But do they not also possess a guardian power? For whence is the order of the universe indissoluble, except from forms? Whence those stable reasons, and which preserve the one sympathy of wholes infrangible, through which the world abides for ever perfect, without the desertion of any form, except from stable causes? Again, the divisible and dissipated nature of bodies is no otherwise compressed and connected than by impartible power. For body is of itself divisible, and requires the connective power of forms. But, if union precedes this connection, for every thing connective must previously be one and undivided, form will not only be generative, and possess a guarding and perfective power, but it will also be connective and unific of all secondary natures. Socrates, therefore, should not only have said that form is a paradigm, but should also have added, that it connects, guards, and perfects the things assimilated; which Timæus also teaching us, says, that the world was generated perfect and indissoluble through the assimilation to all-perfect animal itself.
[21] Socrates, as we have before observed, was not accurate in asserting that ideas are paradigms alone, since they also generate, perfect, and guard sensibles; and that sensibles are resemblances alone of ideas, since they are generated and guarded by them, and thence derive all their perfection and duration. This being the case, Parmenides, in a truly divine manner, grants that forms are established as paradigms in nature; but Socrates having introduced similitude, and a participation according to similitude, in order to solve the first doubts concerning the participation of forms, Parmenides being desirous to indicate the primary and total cause of paradigm and its exemption from all habitude to its resemblances, shows, that if sensible is similar to intelligible form, it is not requisite that the habitude should reciprocate, and that the intelligible should be similar to the sensible form, lest, prior to two things similar to each other, we should again investigate some other form, the cause of similitude to both: for things similar to each other entirely participate a certain something which is the same, and through this something same which is in them they are said to be similar. Hence, if it be granted that the participant and that which is participated are similar, or, in other words, the paradigm and its resemblance, there will be prior to these something else which assimilates them, and this will be the case ad infinitum. To avoid this inconvenience, Socrates should have said that the similar is twofold, the one being similar conjoined with the similar, the other being as a subject similar to its archetype; and the one being beheld in the sameness of a certain one ratio, but the other not only possessing sameness, but at the same time difference, when it is similar in such a manner as to possess the same form from, but not together with, it. And thus much may be said logically and doubtingly. But if we direct our attention to the many orders of forms, we shall find the profundity which they contain. For there are physical forms prior to sensibles, the forms in soul prior to these, and intellectual forms preceding those in soul; but there are no longer others prior to these. Intellectual forms, therefore, are paradigms alone, and are by no means similar to the things posterior to these; but the forms in soul are both paradigms and images. And so far as they are images, both these forms themselves, and the things posterior to them, are similar to each other, as deriving their subsistence from the same intellectual forms. This is also the case with physical forms, which are similar to sensibles, so far as both are images of the forms which are above them. But those forms which are alone paradigms, are no longer similar to their images: for things are similar through a participation of a certain sameness; but paradigmatic forms participate of nothing, since they rank as the first of things. We may also say, speaking theologically, that there is one order of forms in the mundane intellect, another in the demiurgic intellect, and another subsisting between these, viz. in participated but supermundane intellect, or, in other words, in an intellect consubsistent indeed with soul, but unconnected with body, and binding the forms in the mundane intellect with that intellect which is not consubsistent with soul, and is therefore called imparticipable. To those, therefore, who begin downwards, we may say that the intellectual forms in the world and in soul are similar to each other, so far as all these are secondary to the assimilative or supermundane intellects, and are as it were sisters to each other. But to those who recur to imparticipable intellect, this can no longer be said. For the assimilative order has a middle subsistence; and hence it assimilates sensibles which are subordinate to it to intellectual forms, but not, vice versa, intellectuals to sensibles. For it is not lawful that what is secondary should impart any thing to that which is primary, nor that what is primary should receive any thing from what is secondary. That Parmenides, therefore, might indicate to Socrates these paradigms, which are indeed intellectual, but established in imparticipable intellect prior to assimilative intellects, he shows him that it is not proper that the habitude of forms to sensibles should reciprocate: for this pertains to things secondary to an assimilative cause.
[22] Parmenides justly infers that sensibles do not participate of all forms through the similar; for this is effected through another more principal cause, viz. the uniting cause of wholes. The efficacious power of forms also, in conjunction with the aptitude of sensibles, must be considered as together giving completion to the fabrication of the universe. The assimilative genus of forms, therefore, which are denominated by theologists supermundane, are able to connect and conjoin mundane causes with their participants. This genus also connects according to a medium first intellectual forms and their participants, imparting to secondary natures a habitude to these forms; but the uniting cause of wholes, or in other words the one, connects supernally, and with exempt transcendency, intelligible forms with sensibles. It may also be truly asserted that the third cause of similitude is the aptitude of the recipient. For, in consequence of this being in capacity what form is in energy, that which is generated becomes similar to form. So that the three causes of assimilation are the subject matter, that which collects together the things perfecting and perfected, and that which subsists between these, and binds the extremes in union. What is asserted, therefore, is in a certain respect true. For if we investigate the one most principal cause of participation, we must not say that it is similitude, but a cause superior to both intellectual and intelligible forms.
[23] Parmenides here indicates the essence of divine forms, which is uncircumscribed, and incapable of being narrated by our conceptions. For the discourse is, indeed, dubious to those who undertake to define accurately their essence, order, and power, to behold where they first subsist, and how they proceed; what the divine idioms are which they receive; how they are participated by the last of things, and what the series are to which they give subsistence; with such other particulars of a more theological nature as the speculation of them may afford. And these things, indeed, Parmenides indicates, but Socrates has not yet touched upon the doubts concerning them. For Parmenides was willing, not only beginning downwards to define the order of divine forms, but also beginning from on high to behold their idiom. For he has already spoken concerning physical forms, and such as are simply intellectual, and concerning those that are properly intellectual. Something also will be said concerning those that are called intelligible and at the same time intellectual; and, in the last place, concerning those that are alone intelligible. But how he speaks concerning these, says Proclus, and that his discourse is under the pretext of doubting, is already evident to the more sagacious, and follows from what has been said.
[24] That the discourse concerning ideas, says Proclus, is full of very numerous and most difficult doubts, is evident from the infinite assertions of those posterior to Plato, some of which regard the subversion, and others the admission, of ideas. And those that admit their subsistence think differently respecting their essence; concerning the particulars of which there are ideas, the mode of participation, and other all-various problems with which the speculation of them is attended. Parmenides, however, does not attend to the multitude of doubts, nor does he descend to their infinite length, but, in two of the greatest, comprehends all the subsequent investigation concerning them; through which doubts it appears that forms are neither apprehended and known by us, nor have any knowledge of, nor providentially energize about, sensibles; though, through this we especially embrace a formal essence, that, as being ourselves intellectual, we may energize about it, and may contemplate in it the providential causes of wholes. But, if ideas are not known by us, it is also vain to say that they have any subsistence; for we do not even know that they are, if we are ignorant of their nature, and are, in short, incapable of apprehending them, and do not possess from our own essence that which is preparatory to the speculation of them. Such, then, are the doubts, both of which happen through the exempt essence of forms, which exemption we consider so transcendent as to have no communication with secondary natures. For that which thus subsists is foreign from us, and is neither known by, nor is gnostic of, us. But, if the exempt nature of forms, together with transcendency, is also present to all things, our knowledge of them will be preserved, and they will possess a formal knowledge of secondary natures. For if they are every where present to all things, we may then be able to meet with them, by only making ourselves adapted to the reception of them. And if they adorn all things, they comprehend intellectually the cause of the things adorned. It is necessary, therefore, that those who wish to guard these dogmas, should consider forms as unshaken and exempt, and pervading through all things. And here also we may see how this accords with the unrestrained nature of forms: for neither does that which is demiurgic in them possess any habitude to things secondary, nor is their unrestrained and exempt nature such as to be incommunicable with, and foreign from, sensibles. But here the divine conception of Plato is truly admirable, which previously subverts through these doubts all the confused and atheistical suspicion concerning divine forms; imitating in this respect intellect itself, which, prior to the shadowy subsistence of evils, gave subsistence to subvertive powers. That it is not proper, therefore, to make that which is generative in forms possessing any habitude to that which is generated, or that which is paradigmatic to consist in verging to that which is governed, Parmenides has sufficiently shown in what has been already delivered. For all habitude requires another collective and connecting cause, so that, prior to forms, there will be another form conjoining both through similitude; since habitude is of the similar, with relation to the similar. But that the exempt nature of forms is not sluggish and without providential energy, and is not foreign from things secondary, Parmenides indicates through these doubts. For, perhaps, some one, alone looking to the unrestrained nature of forms, may say that they neither know their participants, nor are known by us. Hence, he leads Socrates to an animadversion of the mode of the exempt power of divine forms. And how, indeed, he collects that sensibles are not known by them, will be afterwards manifest to us; but he wishes, first of all, to evince that we are not able to know them, assuming, for this purpose, in a manner perfectly divine, that the science which we possess pertains to human objects of scientific knowledge, but that divine science belongs to such as are divine. And this, indeed, appears to deprive us of the knowledge of divine natures. It is, however, true in a certain respect, and not according to one mode, but after one manner when philosophically, and after another when theologically, considered. For let the science which is with us pertain to our objects of scientific knowledge; but what prevents such objects from being images of divine natures? And why may we not know divine natures through them, in the same manner as the Pythagoreans, perceiving the images of the divine orders in numbers and figures, and being conversant with these, endeavoured to obtain from them as from certain types, a knowledge of things divine. Why, also, is it wonderful that the science which is with us should be so called with relation to that which is with us the object of scientific knowledge, and should be conjoined with this? For it is coordinate to that with respect to which it is denominated. It may also, not as coordinate knowledge, but as that which is of an inferior order, be admitted to intelligibles themselves. For coordinate knowledges of all things are of one kind, and those which are arranged according to a different order of things known, of another, and which either apprehend the nature of things subordinate in a more excellent manner, as opinion the nature of sensibles, or which apprehend things more excellent secondarily and subordinately, as opinion that which is the object of science. He, therefore, who possesses scientific knowledge, and he who opines rightly, know the same thing, but the one in a more excellent, and the other in a subordinate manner. Hence there is no absurdity that science should be denominated not with relation to the object of science among intelligibles, but with relation to that with which it is conjoined, and that it should apprehend the former not as coordinate, but in a secondary degree. Agreeably to this, Plato in his seventh Epistle says that the intelligible form is not known through science but through intelligence, or the direct and immediate vision of intellect. For scientific knowledge is of a more composite nature with respect to intellectual intuition; but intellect is properly the spectator of ideas: for these are naturally intellectual, and we every where know the similar by the similar; intelligibles indeed by intellect, the objects of opinion by opinion, and things scientific by science. It is by no means wonderful, therefore, that there should be no science of forms, and yet that another knowledge of them should remain, such as that which we denominate intelligence. But if you are willing, says Proclus, to speak after another more theological mode, you may say that ascending as far as to intellectual forms, Parmenides shows that the forms which are beyond these, and which possess an exempt transcendency, such as are the intelligible, and the intelligible and at the same time intellectual forms, are better than our knowledge. Hence by asserting that souls when perfectly purified, and conjoined with the attendants on the twelve supercelestial Gods, then merge themselves in the contemplation of these forms, you will perhaps not wander from the divinely-inspired conception of Plato. For as there are three orders of forms prior to the assimilative order as is evident from the second hypothesis of the Parmenides, viz. the intellectual, the intelligible and at the same time intellectual, and the intelligible; intellectual forms indeed are proximate to secondary natures, and through the separation which they contain are more known to us, but intelligible and at the same time intellectual forms are not to be apprehended by that partial knowledge by which we perceive things coordinate with our nature; and hence these forms are characterized by the unknown, through their exempt transcendency. Let us now consider, says Proclus, the words of Plato, because through these he indicates who is a fit hearer of these things, and who is adapted to be a teacher of them. For it is requisite that the hearer should possess a naturally good disposition, and this in a remarkable degree, that he may be by nature a philosopher, may be astonished about an incorporeal essence, and prior to things visible may always pursue something else and reason concerning it, and may not be satisfied with things present; and in short he must be such a one as Socrates in the Republic describes him to be, who naturally loves the speculation of wholes. In the next place, he must be skilled in a multitude of particulars, not indeed in a multitude of human affairs, for these are trifling, and contribute nothing to a divine life, but in logical, physical, and mathematical theorems. For such things as our dianoëtic power is unable to survey in the Gods, we may behold in these as in images; and beholding we are induced to believe the assertions of theologists concerning divine natures. Thus if he wonders how multitude is contained in the one, and all things in the impartible, he will perceive that the even and the odd, the circle and the sphere and other forms of numbers are contained in the monad. If he wonders how a divine nature makes by its very essence, he will perceive in natural objects that fire essentially imparts heat, and snow coldness. And if he wonders how causes are every where present with their effects, he will behold the images of this in logic. For genera are every where predicated of the things of which species are predicated, and the latter indeed with the former, but the former without the latter. And thus in every thing, he who is unable to look directly to a divine nature, may survey it through these as images. It is requisite, therefore, in the first place, that he should possess a naturally good disposition, which is allied to true beings, and is capable of becoming winged, and which as it were from other persuasions vindicates to itself the conceptions concerning permanent being. For as in every study we require a certain preparation, in like manner in order to obtain that knowledge which genuinely leads to being, we require a preceding purified aptitude. In the next place, skill, as we have said, in many and all-various theorems is requisite, through which he will be led back to the apprehension of these things; and, in the third place, alacrity, and an extension of the powers of the soul about the contemplation of true beings; so that from his leader alone indicating, he may be able to follow his indications. Three things, therefore, are requisite to the contemplation of an incorporeal nature, a naturally good disposition, skill, and alacrity. And through a naturally good disposition indeed, faith in a divine nature will be spontaneously produced; but through skill the truth of paradoxical theorems will be firmly possessed; and through alacrity the amatory tendency of the soul to the contemplation of true being will be excited. But the leader, says Proclus, of these speculations, will not be willing through a long discourse to unfold divine truth, but to indicate it with brevity, framing his language similar to his intellections; nor will he accomplish this from things known and at hand, but supernally, from principles most profoundly one. Nor again, will he so discourse as that he may appear to speak clearly, but he will be satisfied with indications. For it is requisite that mystical concerns should be mystically delivered, and that occult conceptions respecting divine natures, should not be rendered popular. Such then is the hearer and such the leader of these discourses. And in Parmenides you have a perfect leader of this kind; and hence if we attend to the mode of his discourse we shall find that he teaches many things through a few words, that he derives what he says supernally, and that he alone indicates concerning divine natures. But in Socrates you have a hearer of a naturally good disposition indeed, and amatory, but not yet perfectly skilled; whence also Parmenides exhorts him to exercise himself in dialectic, that he may obtain skill in the theorems, receiving indeed his naturally good disposition and his impulse, but supplying what is deficient. He also informs us that the end of this triple power is the being freed from deception in reasonings concerning divine natures: for he who is deficient in any one of these three, must be compelled to assent to many things that are false. I only add that instead of και μη αφυης, as in Thompson’s edition of this dialogue, it appears from the commentary of Proclus that we should here read και μεν ευφυης, as in our translation.
[25] The discourse here proceeds to other doubts, one of which takes away from our soul the knowledge of true beings, but the other deprives divine natures of the knowledge of sensibles; through both which our progressions from and conversion to divine natures, are destroyed. Things second and first also appear to be divulsed from each other, second being deprived of first, and first being unprolific of second natures. The truth however is, that every thing is in all things in an appropriate manner; the middle and last genera of wholes subsisting causally in things first, whence also they are truly known by them, as they also subsist in them; but things first subsisting according to participation in such as are middle; and both these in such things as are last. Hence souls also know all things in a manner accommodated to each; through images indeed things prior to them; but according to cause things posterior to them; and in a connate and coordinate manner, the reasons or productive principles which they themselves contain. These doubts, therefore, are extended after the two prior to these concerning the order of ideas, because Socrates and every one who admits that there are ideas must be led to this hypothesis, through a causal and scientific knowledge of every thing in the world. Hence those who deny that there are ideas, deny also the providential animadversion of intelligibles. Parmenides, therefore, proposes at present to show that by admitting ideas to be alone exempt from things it must also be necessarily admitted that they are unknown, as there will no longer be any communion between us and them, nor any knowledge, whether they subsist or not, whether they are participated, and how, and what order they are allotted, if they are alone exempt, and are not together with unrestrained energy, the causes of secondary natures. But to the speculation of this the discourse pre-assumes certain axioms and common conceptions; and, in the first place, that ideas are not entirely exempt, and do not subsist by themselves without any communion with things subordinate. For how can this be possible, since both we and all other things are suspended from them? For the place in which they subsist is intellect, not that it is the place as if they required a seat, in the same manner as accidents require essence for their support, or as material forms require matter. Intellect indeed, does not comprehend them, as if they were its parts heaped together by composition, but in the same manner as the centre comprehends in itself the many terminations of the lines which proceed from it, and as science, the many theorems of which it is the source; not being composed from the many, but subsisting prior to the many, and all being contained in each. For thus intellect is many, containing multitude impartibly in the unity of its nature; because it is not the one which subsists prior to all multitude, but is collectively one multitude, its multitude being profoundly united through the dominion of unity in its nature. In this manner, therefore, is intellect the place of ideas. Hence, if soul is not the same with intellect, those ideas will not be in us of which intellect is the place. Hence, also, it is evident that the discourse in this dialogue about ideas becomes perpetually more perfect, ascending to certain more-united hypostases of these luminous beings. For the discourse no longer supposes them to be corporeal or physical, or conceptions of the soul, but prior to all these. For they are not in us, says Parmenides; nor are they coordinate with our conceptions. You may say, then, philosophically with Proclus, that they are exempt from, and are not in us; and that they are present every where, and are participated by us, without being ingenerated in their participants. For they being in themselves, are proximate to all things for participation that are capable of receiving them. Hence, we participate them through the things which we possess, and this is not only the case with us, but also with more excellent natures, who possess in themselves essential images of ideas, and introducing these as vestiges of paradigms to ideas, they know the latter through the former. For he who understands the essence of these, knows also that they are images of other things, but knowing this, it is also necessary that by intellections he should come into contact with the paradigms. But you may say, theologically, that the forms which are exempt from those that are intellectual, are perfectly established above our order. Hence, of intellectual forms, we perceive both in ourselves, and in sensibles, images; but the essence of intelligibles, through its profound union, is perfectly exempt both from us and all other things, being of itself unknown. For it fills Gods and intellects with itself; but we must be satisfied with participating intellectual forms in a manner adapted to the soul. Plato also manifests these things when he makes our life to be twofold, political and theoretical, and assigns us a twofold felicity; elevating the former life to the patronymic government of Jupiter, and the latter to the Saturnian order and a pure intellect. For from hence it is evident that he re-elevates the whole of our life, as far as to the intellectual kings: for Saturn subsists at the summit, and Jupiter at the extremity, of the intellectual order. But such things as are beyond these, he says in the Phædrus, are the spectacles of souls divinely inspired and initiated in them as in the most blessed of all mysteries. So that thus the proposed axiom will be true, when considered as pertaining to a certain formal order. And thus much for the things. With respect to the diction, says Proclus, the words πη δη ὦ Παρμενιδη; “In what respect, O Parmenides?” are the interrogation of Socrates, vehemently wondering if intellectual form is unknown, and not yet perceiving the transition, and that Parmenides proceeds through the whole extent of forms till he ends in the first ideas. But the words πως γαρ αν αυτη καθ’ αυτην ετι ειη; “For how could it any longer subsist itself by itself?” are asserted according to common conceptions. For every thing exempt is of itself, and is itself by itself, neither subsisting in any other, nor in us. Hence, through these three terms, itself, by itself, and essence, Parmenides unfolds the whole truth concerning these forms. For the first of these indicates their simplicity, the second, their separate transcendency, and the third their perfection established in essence alone. In the next place, the words καλως λεγεις, “You speak well,” are not delivered ironically, and as if Parmenides was from them beginning a confutation, but as receiving the spontaneous intuition of Socrates, and his conception about divine natures. For the assumed axiom is true, Timæus also asserting that true being neither receives any thing into itself, as matter does form, nor proceeds into any other place, as form does into matter. It remains, therefore, separately in itself, and being participated, does not become any thing belonging to its participants, but, subsisting prior to them, imparts to these as much as they are able to receive; neither being in us, for we participate, not receiving idea itself, but something else proceeding from it; nor being generated in us, for it is entirely void of generation.
[26] This is the second axiom, says Proclus, contributing to the speculation of the proposed object of inquiry. For the former axiom was, that forms are by no means in us, but in themselves; but this second axiom is, that sensibles when denominated as relatives, are so denominated with relation to each other; and that intelligibles are denominated with relation to each other, and not with relation to sensibles; and that sensibles are not denominated with relation to intelligibles. For, by those who are accustomed to consider these things more logically, it is well said, that universals ought to be referred as relatives to universals, but particulars to particulars; science simply considered to that which is simply the object of science, but a particular science to a particular object of science; things indefinite to the indefinite; such as are definite to the definite; such as are in capacity to things in capacity; and such as are in energy to things in energy. And of these things the logical and physical treatises of the antients are full. If, therefore, in things universal, and things particular, alternations cannot be admitted in comparing the one with the other, by a much greater reason it cannot take place in ideas and the images of ideas; but we must refer sensibles to sensibles, and intelligibles to intelligibles. These things, then, are perfectly true, if we consider each so far as it is that which it is, and not so far as it makes something, or is generated something. For in this case, sensibles have the relation of things generated to intelligibles, but intelligibles, that of producing causes to sensibles; and as images, sensibles are related to intelligibles, but ideas, as paradigms, are related to sensibles. If, therefore, we assume dominion itself, it must be referred to servitude itself; but if we consider it as a paradigm, it must be referred to that which is similar to dominion itself; though we are accustomed, indeed, to call the Gods our lords, so that dominion there will be denominated with reference to servitude with us. This, however, is true, because we participate of servitude itself, to which dominion itself has a precedaneous reference. And here you may see how dominion among ideas, or in the intelligible world, evinces that more excellent natures are our lords, because we participate of servitude itself. But that which is called dominion with us, with reference to servitude among us, is no longer also denominated with reference to servitude among ideas, because the being of servitude which is there does not subsist from that which is with us, but the very contrary takes place. For things which govern more excellent natures must also necessarily govern such as are subordinate, but not vice versa. But from all these doubts we learn what idea truly so called is. From the first doubt we assume that it is incorporeal; for if it were a body, neither the whole, nor a part of it could be participated. But from the second doubt we assume that it is not coordinate with its participants; for if it were coordinate, it would possess something common, and on this account we must conceive another idea prior to it. From the third doubt we learn, that it is not a conception of essence, but essence and being; for otherwise all its participants would participate of knowledge. From the fourth, we collect that it is a paradigm alone, and not an image also, as the reason or productive principle in soul, lest being similar to that which proceeds from it, it should introduce another idea prior to itself. From the fifth, we learn that intelligible idea is not directly known to us, but from the images of it. For science in us is not coordinate with it. And from the sixth we infer that it understands things which are secondary to it, and that it knows them by being itself their cause. Idea, therefore, truly so called, is an incorporeal cause, exempt from its participants, is an immovable essence, is a paradigm only and truly, and is intelligible to souls from images, but has a causal knowledge of things which subsist according to it. So that from all the doubts we derive one definition of idea truly so called. Hence, those that oppose the doctrine of ideas, should oppose this definition, and not assuming corporeal imaginations of them, or considering them as co-arranged with sensibles, or as unessential, or as coordinate with our knowledge, sophistically discourse concerning them. Let it also be observed that Parmenides says that ideas are Gods, and that they have their subsistence in deity; in the same manner as the Chaldæan oracle also calls them the conceptions of the father: for whatever subsists in deity is a God. Lastly, we must be careful to remember that when we speak of relation as subsisting among ideas, we must remove from them mere, unessential habitudes: for nothing of this kind is adapted to the Gods. But we must assume sameness for habitude; and even prior to this sameness, the hyparxis of each in itself: for each is of itself first, and is both united to itself and to other things. Communion, therefore, according to participations characterizes the power of things which are said to be relatives in the intelligible world.
[27] How relatives are to be understood, says Proclus, among forms, is I think evident from what has been already said. You will, however, find dominion and servitude peculiarly subsisting there. For what else pertains to despots, than to have absolute dominion over slaves, and to arrange every thing pertaining to them with a view to their own good? And what else is the province of slaves, than to be governed by others, and to minister to the will of their masters? Must not these, therefore, by a much greater priority, be found among forms which are arranged one under the other, and among which some are more powerful, and use those of a subordinate nature, but others are subservient, and cooperate with the powers of the higher orders of forms? Dominion, therefore, is an employing power (χρηστικη δυναμις), and servitude a ministrant power. And both these subsist essentially among forms, and not casually, as in their images: for dominion and servitude among sensibles, are the the last echoes, as it were, of dominion and servitude in the intelligible world. But if you are willing not only to survey these two in forms philosophically, but also theologically, in the divine orders themselves, direct your intellectual eye to those intellectual and at the same time intelligible Gods, and to the forms which are suspended from them; and you will see how both these are adapted to that order of forms. For having primarily a middle subsistence, they rule over all secondary natures, but are suspended from the forms which are prior to them, and which are alone intelligible, energize with reference to their good, and are from them that which they are. For being first unfolded into light from them, they are governed by, and abide in, them; but they supernally rule over the essences and powers posterior to themselves. Hence, also, in the secondary orders, the more total govern the more partial, the more monadic, the more multiplied, and the exempt, the coordinated. Thus, for instance, in the demiurgic genera, Jupiter in Homer at one time issues his mandates to Minerva, at another time to Apollo, at another to Hermes, and at another to Iris; all of whom act in subservience to the will of their father, imparting their providential energies according to the demiurgic boundary. The angelic tribe, also, and all the better genera, are said to act as servants to the Gods, and to minister to their powers. But, that dominion and servitude have an essential, and not a casual subsistence only, we may learn from the Phædo: for it is there said, that nature commanded the body to act the part of a slave, but the soul that of a master. If, therefore, these have a natural subsistence in the soul and body, it is nothing wonderful that we should refer dominion itself, and servitude itself, to divine forms, theologists employing these names as indications of the ruling and ministrant powers in the Gods; just as the paternal and maternal there subsist in one respect according to a divine idiom, and in another according to a formal cause, mere habitude having no subsistence in these, but prolific power, and an essence adapted to the Gods. It must, however, here be carefully observed, that when the Gods are said to rule over us also with absolute dominion, as when in the Phædo Socrates calls the Gods our masters, and us the possessions of the Gods, the mode of dominion is transcendently exempt. For in the divine orders the more total rule over the more partial coordinately, and we approach to the Gods, as our masters, through the servitude which is there as a medium. Hence, as all the series of servitude itself is under that of dominion itself, the Gods also govern according to their absolute power. And not only do the more total rule over the more partial Gods, but also over men, participating according to comprehension of servitude itself, which makes subordinate subservient to more excellent natures.
[28] Socrates, in the Phædrus, celebrates divine science, elevating souls of a total characteristic, or which subsist as wholes to the intellectual and intelligible orders, and asserting that they there survey justice itself, temperance itself, and science itself, in consequence of being conjoined with the middle order of these Gods. He also asserts that truth is there, proceeding from intelligibles, and illuminating all the middle genera of Gods with intelligible light; and he conjoins that science with that truth. If, therefore, in discoursing concerning the formal orders, he says that science itself is of truth itself, it is not wonderful. For there science and truth, and all the forms in the middle genera of Gods, participate of science itself, and truth itself, which cause every thing there to be intellectual: for science itself is the eternal and uniform intelligence of eternal natures. For the light of truth being intelligible, imparts to these forms intelligible power. But since there are many orders of these middle forms; for some of them are, as theologists say, the highest, uniform, and intelligible; others connect and bind together wholes; and others are perfective and convertive; hence, after the one and the first science, Parmenides mentions many sciences. For they proceed supernally through all the genera in conjunction with the light of truth. For truth is the one in every order, and the intelligible, with which also intelligence is conjoined. As, therefore, total intelligence is of the total intelligible, so the many intelligences are united to the many intelligibles. These middle forms, therefore, which possess intelligences united with their intelligibles, are perfectly exempt from our knowledge; or, in other words, they cannot be directly and without a medium apprehended even by the highest of our powers. Intellectual forms, indeed, are exempt from us; but since we proximately subsist from them, they
[29] Instead of της ὁ εστιν αληθεια, αυτης αν εκεινης ειη επιστημη, as in Thompson’s edition of this dialogue, it appears from the MS. commentary of Proclus that we should read της αληθειας αυτης αν εκεινης κ. τ. λ. Indeed the sense of the text requires this emendation. are in a certain respect in us, and we possess a knowledge of them, and through these, of the unknown transcendency of more divine forms. We ought not however, says Proclus, to say, with some of the friends of Plato, that divine science does not know itself, but from itself imparts self-knowledge to other things. For every divine nature primarily directs its energy to itself, and begins its idiom from itself. Thus the cause of life fills itself with life, and the source of perfection produces itself perfect. Hence, that which imparts knowledge to other things, possesses itself prior to other things the knowledge of beings; since also the science which is with us being an image of science itself, knows other things, and prior to other things, itself. Or what is that which informs us what this very thing science is? And must not relatives belong to the same power? Knowing, therefore, the objects of science, it also knows itself, being the science of those objects. As the knowledge, however, of divine science is simple and uniform, so the object of its knowledge is single and comprehensive of all other objects of scientific knowledge. Science itself, therefore, is the cause of scientific knowledge to other things, and by a much greater priority, to itself. For it is an essence essentialized in the knowledge of itself and of being. For science there is not a habit, nor a quality, but a self-perfect hyparxis subsisting from, and established in, itself; and by knowing itself, knowing that which is primarily the object of scientific knowledge, or that which is simply being. For it is conjoined with this, in the same manner as that which is intellect simply, to that which is simply intelligible, and as that which is simply sense, to that which is simply sensible. But the many sciences after science itself are certain progressions of the one science conjoined with the multitude of beings, which the being of that one science comprehends. For being is many, and in like manner science. And that which is most characterized by unity in science itself, is united to the one of being, which also it knows; but the multitude in science itself knows the multitude of beings which being itself comprehends.
[30] We also participate in a certain respect of truth, but not of that of which those divine forms alluded to in the preceding text participate, but of that which was imparted to our order by the artificer of the universe; and the science which is with us is the science of this truth. There are, however, knowledges more partial than this, some evolving one, and others a different object of knowledge. Some of these, also, are conversant with generation, and the variety it contains; others investigate the whole of nature; and others contemplate supernatural beings. Some, again, employ the senses, and together with these, give completion to their work; others require the figured intellection of the phantasy; others acquiesce in doxastic reasons; others convert pure reason itself to itself; and others extend our reason to intellect. As there is then such a difference in the sciences, it is evident that some form a judgment of these, and others of different, objects of science, and things which contribute to our reminiscence of being. Thus, for instance, geometry speculates the reason of figure in us, but arithmetic unfolds, by its demonstrations, the one form of numbers; and each of the other sciences which have a partial subsistence speculates some other particular of the things with which we are conversant. We must not, therefore, pervert the name of science by introducing arts into the midst, and the ideas of these, to which the uses of a mortal life gave a being; for they are nothing more than adumbrations of true science. As, therefore, we say that there are ideas of things which contribute to the perfection of essence, but not of things proceeding from these, and alone subsisting accidentally in others, in like manner the arts being the images of the sciences have here their generation. But the sciences themselves are derived from the sciences which presubsist among ideas; and through the former we are enabled to ascend to the latter, and become assimilated to intellect. However, as there it is necessary that there should be one science prior to the many, being the science of that which is truth itself, just as the many sciences have many truths for their objects (for the peculiar scientific object of every science is a certain truth) in like manner with respect to the sciences with us which are many, it is necessary to understand the one and whole form of science, which neither receives its completion from the many, nor is coordinated with them, but presubsists itself by itself. But the many sciences distribute the one power of science, a different science being arranged under a different object of knowledge, and all of them being referred to and receiving their principles from the one and entire form of science. The science, therefore, which is with us is very different from that which is divine; but through the former we ascend to the latter.
[31] Here Parmenides, says Proclus, beginning from the preceding axioms collects the thing proposed as follows: Exempt forms subsist by themselves; things which subsist by themselves and of themselves are not in us; things which are not in us, are not coordinate with our science, and are unknown by it. Exempt forms, therefore, are unknown by our science. All forms indeed, are only to be seen by a divine intellect, but this is especially the case with such as are beyond the intellectual Gods. For neither sense nor doxastic knowledge, nor pure reason, nor our intellectual knowlege, is able to conjoin the soul with those forms; but this can alone be effected through an illumination from the intellectual Gods, as some one speaking divinely says. The nature, therefore, of those forms is unknown to us, as being better than our intellection, and the divisible intuitive perceptions of our soul. Hence Socrates in the Phædrus, as we have before observed, assimilates the survey of them to the mysteries, and calls the spectacles of them entire, tranquil, simple and happy visions. Of intellectual forms, therefore, the demiurgus and father of souls has implanted in us the knowledge; but of the forms above intellect, such as those belonging to the intelligible and at the same time intellectual orders, the knowledge is exempt from our immediate vision, is spontaneous, and alone known to souls energizing from a divine afflatus. So that what Parmenides now infers, and also that we do not participate of science itself, follow from the conceptions concerning this order of divine forms.
[32] The genera of being are not to be considered in this place, either as things appearing in the many, and which are the subject of logical predications, or as universals collected from the many, and which are called by the moderns abstract ideas; for these are posterior to beings. But the genera of being here signify such things as possess a generative power, more total than, and preceding according to cause, the progeny in more partial forms. For as the genera of forms in sensibles, either appear in the many, or are predicated of the many; in like manner genera in intelligibles are more principal, perfect and comprehensive than other forms; surpassing the things comprehended in simplicity and prolific power. These genera we must say are known by the form of science itself, as beginning supernally, and comprehending according to one uniform knowledge, things multiplied, unitedly, and things partial, totally. This also the science which is with us wishes to effect: for it always contemplates the progressions of things from their causes.
[33] The beautiful, and also the good considered as a form and not as superessential proceed supernally from the summit of intelligibles to all the second genera of Gods. The middle orders of forms, therefore, receive the progressions of these in a becoming manner; according to the good becoming full of their own perfection, and of the sufficient, and the unindigent; but according to the beautiful becoming lovely to secondary natures, leading back things which have proceeded, and binding together divided causes. For a conversion to the beautiful collects together and unites all things, and fixes them as in one center. These two forms, therefore, the good and the beautiful subsist occultly and uniformly in first natures, but are changed in the different orders of things in a manner coordinate to each. So that it is not wonderful if there is certain beauty known only to sense, another known to opinion, another beheld through the dianoëtic power, another by intelligence in conjunction with reason, another by pure intelligence, and lastly another which is unknown, subsisting by itself perfectly exempt, and capable of being seen by its own light alone.
[34] The preceding arguments have led us as far as to the intelligible and at the same time intellectual order of forms: for being false and of a doubting idiom, they alone unfold the truth in intellectual forms. But what is now said, says Proclus, leads us to those forms which presubsist in the intelligible, proceeding indeed in the form of doubt as about intellectual forms, but in reality signifying the idiom of the first forms. The discourse, therefore, shows that forms neither know nor govern sensibles; falsely, indeed, in demiurgic ideas, for sensibles subsist from these, and these rule over their all-various distribution into individual forms; so that they previously comprehend the providence and government of sensibles: but the discourse is most true in the first ideas, which are in the highest degree characterized by unity, and are truly intelligible. For these first shine forth from being in intelligible intellect, uniformly, unitedly, and totally. For they contain the paternal causes of the most common and comprehensive genera, and are superior to a distributed knowledge of and a proximate government of sensibles. Hence these intelligible Gods have dominion over the Gods which are unfolded from them, and their knowledge is beyond all other divine knowledge; to which also Plato looking collects, that the Gods neither rule over us, nor have any knowledge of human concerns. For the divided causes of these, and the powers which rule over them, are in the intellectual Gods. But the ideas which are properly called intelligible, are established above all such divisions; produce all things according to united and the most simple causes; and both their effective energy and knowledge are one, collected and uniform. Hence there the intelligible cause of the celestial genus produces every thing celestial, Gods, angels, dæmons, heroes, souls, not so far as they are dæmons or angels, for this is the peculiarity of divisible causes, and of divided ideas, of which the intellectual forms make a distribution into multitude, but so far as all these genera are in a certain respect divine and celestial, and so far as they are allotted an hyparxis united to the Gods; and in a similar manner with respect to each of the rest. Thus for instance, the intelligible idea of every thing pedestrian and terrestrial cannot be said to rule over things, each of which is separated according to one form, for this is the province of things distributed from it into multitude, but it governs all things so far as they are of one genus. For things nearer to the one, give subsistence to all things in a more total and uniform manner. As, however, we shall hereafter speak of this, let us rather consider the opinion of Plato concerning providence. The Athenian guest, therefore, in the Laws clearly evinces that there is a providence, where his discourse shows that the Gods know and possess a power which governs all things. But Parmenides at the very beginning of the discussion concerning providence evinces the absurdity of doubting divine knowledge and dominion. For to assert that the conclusion of this doubt is still more dire than the former, sufficiently shows that he rejects the arguments which subvert providence. For it is dire to say that divinity is not known by us who are rational and intellectual natures, and who essentially possess something divine; but it is still more dire to deprive divine natures of knowledge; since the former pertains to those who do not convert themselves to divinity, but the latter to those who impede the all-pervading goodness of the Gods. And the former pertains to those who err respecting our essence, but the latter to those who convert themselves erroneously about a divine cause. But the expression still more dire, (δεινοτερον) says Proclus, is not used as signifying a more strenuous doubt, in the same manner as we are accustomed to call those dire (δεινοι) who vanquish by the power of language, but as a thing worthy of greater dread and caution to the intelligent. For it divulses the union of things, and dissociates divinity apart from the world. It also defines divine power as not pervading to all things, and circumscribes intellectual knowledge as not all-perfect. It likewise subverts all the fabrication of the universe, the order imparted to the world from separate causes, and the goodness which fills all things from one will, in a manner accommodated to the nature of unity. Nor less dire than any one of these is the confusion of piety. For what communion is there between Gods and men, if the former are deprived of the knowledge of our concerns. All supplications, therefore, of divinity, all sacred institutions, all oaths adducing the Gods as a witness, and the untaught conceptions implanted in our souls concerning divinity, will perish. What gift also will be left of the Gods to men, if they do not previously comprehend in themselves the desert of the recipients, if they do not possess a knowledge of all that we do, of all we suffer, and of all that we think though we do not carry it into effect? With great propriety, therefore are such assertions called dire. For if it is unholy to change any legitimately divine institution, how can such an innovation as this be unattended with dread? But that Plato rejects this hypothesis which makes Divinity to be ignorant of our concerns, is evident from these things, since it is one of his dogmas, that Divinity knows and produces all things. Since, however, some of those posterior to him have vehemently endeavoured to subvert such-like assertions, let us speak concerning them as much as may be sufficient for our present purpose. Some of those, then, posterior to Plato, on seeing the unstable condition of sublunary things were fearful that they were not under the direction of providence and a divine nature; for such events as are said to take place through fortune, the apparent inequality respecting lives, and the disordered motion of material natures, induced them greatly to suspect that they were not under the government of providence. Besides, the persuasion that Divinity is not busily employed in the evolution of all-various reasons, and that he does not depart from his own blessedness, induced them to frame an hypothesis so lawless and dire. For they were of opinion that the passion of our soul, and the perturbation which it sustains by descending to the government of bodies, must happen to Divinity, if he converted himself to the providential inspection of things. Further still, from considering that different objects of knowledge are known by different gnostic powers; as, for instance, sensibles by sense, objects of opinion by opinion, things scientific by science, and intelligibles by intellect, and, at the same time, neither placing sense, nor opinion, nor science in Divinity, but only an intellect immaterial and pure;—hence, they asserted that Divinity had no knowledge of any other things than the objects of intellect³⁵. For, say they, if matter is external to him, it is necessary that he should be pure from apprehensions which are converted to matter; but being purified from these, it follows that he must have no knowledge of material natures: and hence, the patrons of this doctrine deprived him of a knowledge of, and providential exertions about, sensibles; not through any imbecility of nature, but through a transcendency of gnostic energy; just as those whose eyes are filled with light, are said to be incapable of perceiving mundane objects, at the same time that this incapacity is nothing more than transcendency of vision. They likewise add, that there are many things which it is beautiful not to know. Thus, to the entheastic, (or those who are divinely inspired) it is beautiful to be ignorant of whatever would destroy the deific energy; and to the scientific, not to know that which would defile the indubitable perception of science. But others ascribe, indeed, to Divinity a knowledge of sensibles, in order that they may not take away his providence, but at the same time convert his apprehension to that which is external, represent him as pervading through the whole of a sensible nature, as passing into contact with the objects of his government, impelling every thing, and being locally present with all things; for, say they, he would not otherwise be able to exert a providential energy in a becoming manner, and impart good to every thing according to its desert³⁶. Others again affirm that Divinity has a knowledge of himself, but that he has no occasion to understand sensibles in order to provide for them, since by his very essence he produced all things, and adorns whatever he has produced, without having any knowledge of his productions. They add, that this is by no means wonderful, since nature operates without knowledge, and unattended with phantasy; but that Divinity differs from nature in this, that he has a knowledge of himself, though not of the things which are fabricated by him. And such are the assertions of those who were persuaded that Divinity is not separated from mundane natures, and of those who deprived him of the knowledge of inferior concerns, and of a knowledge operating in union with providence. With respect to these philosophers, we say, that they speak truly, and yet not truly, on this
[35] This opinion was embraced by the more early Peripatetics.
[36] This was the opinion of the Stoics.
[37] Every divine intellect, says Proclus, and every order of the Gods, comprehends in itself the knowledge and the cause of all things. For neither is their knowledge inefficacious, possessing the indefinite in intellection; but they both know all things, and communicate good. For that which is primarily good, is also willing to illuminate secondary natures with a supply from himself. Nor are their productions irrational and void of knowledge: for this is the work of nature and of ultimate life, and not of a divine cause, which also produces rational essences. Hence, they at the same time both know and make all things; and prior to these, according to their will, they preassume both a knowledge and a power effective of all things. Hence, they preside over all things willingly, gnostically, and powerfully; and every thing through this triad enjoys their providential care. And if you are willing to unite things which subsist divisibly in secondary natures, and refer them to a divine cause, you will perhaps apprehend the truth concerning it more accurately. Nature, therefore, appears to possess reasons or productive principles effective, but not gnostic; the dianoëtic power possesses as its end, knowledge in itself; and proæresis, or a deliberative tendency to things capable of being accomplished, has for its end good, and the will of things good. Collect these, therefore, in one, the will- ing, the gnostic, the efficacious, and prior to these, conceiving a divine unity, refer all these to a divine nature, because all these presubsist there uniformly together. However, though all the Gods possess all these, yet in intelligibles, the first intelligence, the first power generative of wholes, and a beneficent will, are especially apparent. For the intelligible order subsisting immediately after the fountain of good, becomes that to natures posterior to itself, which the good is to the universality of things; expressing his super-causal nature through paternal power; the good, through beneficent will; and that which is above all knowledge, through occult and united intellection. Proclus adds, but it appears to me that through this Parmenides now first calls ideas Gods, as recurring to the first fountain of them, and as being uniform, and most near to the good, and as thus possessing a knowledge of, and dominion over, all things, so far as each participates of a divine power, and so far as all of them are suspended from the Gods. subject. For if providence has a subsistence, neither can there be any thing disordered, nor can Divinity be busily employed, nor can he know sensibles through passive sense: but these philosophers, in consequence of not knowing the exempt power and uniform knowledge of Divinity, appear to deviate from the truth. For thus we interrogate them: does not every thing energize in a becoming manner when it energizes according to its own power and nature? as, for instance, does not nature, in conformity to the order of its essence, energize physically, intellect intellectually, and soul psychically, or according to the nature of soul? And when the same thing is generated by many and different causes, does not each of these produce according to its own power, and not according to the nature of the thing produced? Or shall we say, that each produces after the same manner, and that, for example, the sun and man generate man, according to the same mode of operation, and not according to the natural ability of each, viz. the one partially, imperfectly, and with a busy energy, but the other without anxious attention, by its very essence, and totally? But to assert this would be absurd; for a divine operates in a manner very different from a mortal nature. If, therefore, every thing which energizes, energizes according to its own nature and order, some things divinely and supernaturally, others naturally, and others in a different manner, it is evident that every gnostic being knows according to its own nature, and that it does not follow that because the thing known is one and the same, on this account, the natures which know, energize in conformity to the essence of the things known. Thus sense, opinion, and our intellect, know that which is white, but not in the same manner: for sense cannot know what the essence is of a thing white, nor can opinion obtain a knowledge of its proper objects in the same manner as intellect; since opinion knows only that a thing is, but intellect knows the cause of its existence. Knowledge, therefore, subsists according to the nature of that which knows, and not according to the nature of that which is known. What wonder is it then that Divinity should know all things in such a manner as is accommodated to his nature, viz. divisible things indivisibly, things multiplied, uniformly, things generated, according to an eternal intelligence, totally, such things as are partial; and that with a knowledge of this kind, he should possess a power productive of all things, or, in other words, that by knowing all things with simple and united intellections, he should impart to every thing being, and a progression into being? For the auditory sense knows audibles in a manner different from the common sense; and prior to, and different from, these, reason knows audibles, together with other particulars which sense is not able to apprehend. And again, of desire, which tends to one thing, of anger, which aspires after another thing, and of proairesis, (προαιρεσις), or that faculty of the soul which is a deliberative tendency to things in our power, there is one particular life moving the soul towards all these, which are mutually motive of each other. It is through this life that we say, I desire, I am angry, and I have a deliberative tendency to this thing or that; for this life verges to all these powers, and lives in conjunction with them, as being a power which is impelled to every object of desire. But prior both to reason and this one life, is the one of the soul, which often says, I perceive, I reason, I desire, and I deliberate, which follows all these energies, and energizes together with them. For we should not be able to know all these, and to apprehend in what they differ from each other, unless we contained a certain indivisible nature, which has a subsistence above the common sense, and which, prior to opinion, desire, and will, knows all that these know and desire, according to an indivisible mode of apprehension. If this be the case, it is by no means proper to disbelieve in the indivisible knowledge of Divinity, which knows sensibles without possessing sense, and divisible natures without possessing a divisible energy, and which, without being present to things in place, knows them prior to all local presence, and imparts to every thing that which every thing is capable of receiving. The unstable essence, therefore, of apparent natures is not known by him in an unstable, but in a definite manner; nor does he know that which is subject to all-various mutations dubiously, but in a manner perpetually the same; for by knowing himself, he knows every thing of which he is the cause, possessing a knowledge transcendently more accurate than that which is coordinate to the objects of knowledge; since a causal knowledge of every thing is superior to every other kind of knowledge. Divinity, therefore, knows without busily attending to the objects of his intellection, because he abides in himself, and by alone knowing himself, knows all things. Nor is he indigent of sense, or opinion, or science, in order to know sensible natures; for it is himself that produces all these, and that, in the unfathomable depths of the intellection of himself, comprehends an united knowledge of them, according to cause, and in one simplicity of perception. Just as if some one having built a ship, should place in it men of his own formation, and, in consequence of possessing a various art, should add a sea to the ship, produce certain winds, and afterwards launch the ship into the new created main. Let us suppose, too, that he causes these to have an existence by merely conceiving them to exist, so that by imagining all this to take place, he gives an external subsistence to his inward phantasms, it is evident that in this case he will contain the cause of every thing which happens to the ship through the winds on the sea, and that by contemplating his own conceptions, without being indigent of outward conversion, he will at the same time both fabricate and know these external particulars. Thus, and in a far greater degree, that divine intellect the artificer of the universe, possessing the causes of all things, both gives subsistence to, and contemplates, whatever the universe contains, without departing from the speculation of himself. But if, with respect to intellect, one kind is more partial, and another more total, it is evident that there is not the same intellectual perfection of all things, but that where intelligibles have a more total and undistributed subsistence, there the knowledge is more total and indivisible, and where the number of forms proceeds into multitude and extension, there the knowledge is both one and multiform. Hence, this being admitted, we cannot wonder on hearing the Orphic verses, in which the theologist says:

Αυτη δε Ζηνος και εν ομμασι πατρος ανακτος
Ναιουσ’ αθανατοι τε θεοι, θνητοι τ’ ανθρωποι,
Ὁσσα τε ην γεγαωσα, και ὑστερον ὁσσα εμελλον.
i. e. There in the sight of Jove, the parent king,
Th’ immortal Gods and mortal men reside,
With all that ever was, and shall hereafter be.

For the artificer of the universe is full of intelligibles, and possesses the causes of all things separated from each other; so that he generates men, and all other things, according to their characteristic peculiarities, and not so far as each is divine, in the same manner as the divinity prior to him, the intelligible father Phanes. Hence, Jupiter is called the father of things divided according to species, but Phanes of things divided according to genera. And Jupiter, indeed, is the father of wholes, though, by a much greater priority, Phanes is the father of all things, but of all things so far as each participates of a divine power. With respect to knowledge, also, Jupiter knows human affairs particularly, and in common with other things: for the cause of men is contained in him, divided from other things and united with all of them; but Phanes knows all things at once, as it were centrically, and without distribution. Thus, for instance, he knows man, so far as he is an animal and pedestrian, and not so far as he is man. For as the pedestrian which subsists in Phanes, is collectively, and at once, the cause of all terrestrial Gods, angels, dæmons, heroes, souls, animals, plants, and of every thing contained in the earth, so also the knowledge which is there is one of all these things collectively, as of one genus, and is not a distributed knowledge of human affairs. And as in us the more universal sciences give subsistence to those which are subordinate to them, as Aristotle says, and are more sciences, and more allied to intellect, for they use more comprehensive conclusions,—so also in the Gods, the more excellent and more simple intellections comprehend according to causal priority the variety of such as are secondary. In the Gods, therefore, the first knowledge of man is as of being, and is one intellection which knows every being as one, according to one union. But the second knowledge is as of eternal being: for this knowledge uniformly comprehends according to one cause every eternal being. The knowledge which is consequent to this is as of animal: for this also has an intellection of animal according to union. But the knowledge which succeeds this is of that which is perfected under this particular genus, as of pedestrian: for it is an intellection of all that genus, as of one thing; and division first takes place in this, and variety together with simplicity. At the same time, however, neither in this is the intellection of man alone: for it is not the same thing to understand every thing terrestrial as one thing, and to understand man. Hence, in demiurgic, and in short in intellectual forms, there is a certain intellection of man as of man, because this form is separated from others in these orders. And thus we have shown how the highest forms do not possess a knowledge of human affairs, and how they have dominion over all things, so far as all things are divine, and so far as they participate of a certain divine idiom. But that in the first order of forms dominion itself, and science itself, subsist, is evident. For there is a divine intellection there of all things characterized by unity, and a power which rules over wholes; the former being the fountain of all knowledge, and the latter the primary cause of all dominion, whether they subsist in the Gods, or in the genera more excellent than our species, or in souls. And, perhaps, Parmenides here calls the genus of science the intellection of those forms, wishing to show its comprehensive and uniform nature; but prior to this, when he was speaking of middle ideas, he alone denominated it species. For, from intelligible knowledge the middle orders are filled with the intelligence which they possess; and intelligence in the latter, has the same relation to that in the former, which species has to genus. If, also, the term much more accurate, is employed in speaking of this science, it is evident that such an addition represents to us its more united nature. For this is the accurate, to comprehend all things, and leave nothing external to itself.
[38] It is well observed here by Proclus, that the words “though Gods” contain an abundant indication of the present doubt. For every thing divine is good, and is willing to fill all things with good. How, therefore, can it either be ignorant of things pertaining to us, or not have dominion over secondary natures? How is it possible that it should not govern according to its own power, and provide according to its own knowledge for things of which it is the cause? And it appears that Parmenides by these words evinces, that for the Divinities to be ignorant of our concerns over which they have dominion, is the most absurd of all things, profoundly indicating that it especially pertains to the Gods, so far as Gods, to know and provide for all things, according to the one by which they are characterized. For intellect, so far as intellect, has not a knowledge of all things, but of wholes, nor are ideas the causes of all things, but of such as perpetually subsist according to nature; so that the assertion is not entirely false which deprives these of the knowledge and government of our concerns, so far as we rank among particulars, and not so far as we are men, and possess one form. But it is necessary that the Divinity and the Gods should know all things, particulars, things eternal, and things temporal; and that they should rule over all things, not only such as are universal, but such also as are partial: for there is one providence of them pervading to all things. Forms, therefore, so far as Gods, and intellect so far as a God, possess a knowledge of, and dominion over, all things. But intellect is a God according to the one, which is as it were the luminous flower of its essence; and forms are Gods, so far as they contain the light proceeding from the good.
[39] Parmenides here indicates that what has been said under the pretext of doubts, is after another manner true. For he says that these and many other consequences must nec- essarily happen to forms, viz. the being unknown, and having no knowledge of our affairs. And, in short, he indicates that all the above-mentioned idioms are adapted to different orders of forms. For it is by no means wonderful that what is true of one order should be false when extended to another.
[40] These things also, says Proclus, are divinely asserted, and with a view to the condition of our nature. For neither does he who has arrived at the summit of human attainments, and who is the wisest among men, possess science perfectly indubitable concerning divine natures; for it is intellect alone which knows intelligibles free from doubt; nor is the most imperfect and earth-born character entirely deprived of the knowledge of a formal cause. For to what does he look when he sometimes blames that which is apparent to sense, as very mutable, if he does not contain in himself an unperverted preconception of an essence permanent and real?
[41] The similar is every where naturally adapted to proceed to the similar. Hence that which is obscure to the eyes, and is only to be obtained by philosophy, will not be apprehended by imperfect souls, but by those alone who through physical virtue, transcendent diligence, and ardent desire apply themselves in a becoming manner to so sublime an object of contemplation. For the speculation of intelligibles cannot subsist in foreign habits; nor can things which have their essence and seat in a pure intellect become apparent to those who are not purified in intellect; since the similar is every where known by the similar.
[42] By these words, says Proclus, Plato again teaches us who is a most fit hearer of this discourse about ideas. Such a one he denominates a man (i. e. ανηρ, not ανθρωπος), not indeed in vain, but in order to indicate that such a one according to the form of his life possesses much of the grand, robust and elevated: (ανδρα μεν ονοματας ου ματην, αλλ’ ινα και κατα το ειδος της ζωης τοιουτος η, πολυ το αδρον και ὑψηλον επιδεικνυμενος.) επιδεικνυμενος.) For it is fit that he who is about to apprehend the Gods should direct his attention to nothing small and grovelling. But he calls him a man of a very naturally good disposition, as being adorned with all the prerogatives of a philosophic nature, and as receiving many viatica from nature, in order to the intellectual perception of divine natures. In addition to this, he also again reminds us who is the leader of the science concerning these divine forms, and that he is prolific and inventive, and this with respect to teaching. For some have made such a proficiency as is sufficient for themselves, but others are also able to awaken others to a recollection of the truth of things. Hence he says, that such a one deserves still greater admiration. In the third place, he shows us what is the end of this teaching, viz. that the learner who possesses science may be sufficiently able to distinguish the genera of beings, and to survey in perfection the definite causes of things; whence they originate; how many are their orders; how they subsist in every order of things; how they are participated; how they causally comprehend all things in themselves; and, in short, all such particulars as have been discussed in the preceding notes. Proclus adds, that by a certain genus of every thing, Plato signifies the primary cause presubsisting in divine natures of every series. For idea compared with any other individual form in sensibles is a genus, as being more total than sensible forms, and as comprehending things which are not entirely of a similar form with each other. For how can the terrestrial man be said to be entirely of a similar form with the celestial, or with the man that is allotted a subsistence in any other element?
[43] Very scientifically, says Proclus, does Plato in these words remind us that there are ideas or forms of things. For if dianoëtic and intellectual are better than sensible knowledge, it is necessary that the things known by the dianoëtic power and by intellect should be more divine than those which are known by sense: for as the gnostic powers which are coordinated to beings are to each other, such also is the mutual relation of the things which are known. If, therefore, the dianoëtic power and intellect speculate separate and immaterial forms, and likewise things universal, and which subsist in themselves, but sense contemplates things partible, and which are inseparable from subjects, it is necessary that the spectacles of the dianoëtic power and of intellect, should be more divine and more eternal. Universals, therefore, are prior to particulars, and things immaterial to things material. Whence then does the dianoëtic power receive these? for they do not always subsist in us according to energy. It is however necessary, that things in energy should precede those in capacity, both in things intellectual and in essences. Forms, therefore, subsist elsewhere, and prior to us, in divine and separate natures, through whom the forms which we contain derive their perfection. But these not subsisting, neither would the forms in us subsist: for they could not be derived from things imperfect: since it is not lawful that more excellent natures should be either generated or perfected from such as are subordinate. Whence, too, is this multitude of forms in the multitude of souls derived? For it is every where necessary, prior to multitude, to conceive a monad from which the multitude proceeds. For as the multitude of sensibles was not generated, except from an unity, which is better than sensibles, and which gave subsistence to that which is common in particulars; so neither would the multitude of forms subsist in souls, such as the just itself, the beautiful itself, &c. which subsist in all souls in a manner accommodated to the nature of soul, without a certain generating unity, which is more excellent than this animastic multitude: just as the monad from which the multitude of sensibles originates, is superior to a sensible essence, comprehending unitedly all the variety of sensibles. Is it not also necessary, that prior to self-motive natures, there should be an immovable form? For as self-motive reasons transcend those which are alter-motive, or moved by others, after the same manner immovable forms, and which energize in eternity, are placed above self-motive forms, which are conversant with the circulations of time: for it is every where requisite that a stable should precede a movable cause. If, therefore, there are forms in souls which are many, and of a self-motive nature, there are prior to these intellectual forms. In other words, there are immovable prior to self-motive natures, such as are monadic, prior to such as are multiplied, and the perfect prior to the imperfect. It is also requisite that they should subsist in energy; so that if there are not intellectual, neither are there animastic forms: for nature by no means begins from the imperfect and the many; since it is necessary that multitude should proceed about monads, things imperfect about the perfect, and things movable about the immovable. But if there are not forms essentially inherent in soul, there is no place left to which any one can turn his dianoëtic power as Parmenides justly observes: for phantasy and sense necessarily look to things connascent with themselves. And of what shall we possess a dianoëtic or scientific knowledge, if the soul is deprived of forms of this kind? For we shall not make our speculation about things of posterior origin, since these are more ignoble than sensibles themselves, and the universals which they contain. How then will the objects of knowledge, which are coordinate to the dianoëtic power, be subordinate to those which are known by sense? It remains, therefore, that we shall not know any thing else than sensibles. But if this be the case, whence do demonstrations originate? Demonstrations indeed, are from those things which are the causes of the things demonstrated, which are prior to them according to nature, and not with relation to us, and which are more honourable than the conclusions which are unfolded from them. But the things from which demonstrations are formed are universals, and not particulars. Universals, therefore, are prior to, and are more causal and more honourable than, particulars. Whence likewise are definitions? For definition proceeds through the essential reason of the soul: for we first define that which is common in particulars, possessing within, that form, of which the something common in these is the image. If, therefore, definition is the principle of demonstration, it is necessary that there should be another definition prior to this, of the many forms and essential reasons which the soul contains. For since, as we have before said, the just itself is in every soul, it is evident that there is something common in this multitude of the just, whence every soul knowing the reason of the just contained in its essence, knows in a similar manner that which is in all other souls. But if it possesses something common, it is this something common which we define, and this is the principle of demonstration, and not that universal in the many, which is material, and in a certain respect mortal, being coordinated with the many: for in demonstrations and definitions, it is requisite that the whole of what is partial should be comprehended in universal and definition. The definitions however of things common in particulars do not comprehend the whole of particulars: for, can it be said that Socrates is the whole of rational mortal animal, which is the definition of man? since he contains many other particulars, which cause him to possess characteristic peculiarities. But the reason of man in the soul comprehends the whole of every individual: for it comprehends uniformly all the powers which are beheld about the particulars of the human species. And, in a similar manner with respect to animal: for, indeed, the universal in particulars is less than the particulars themselves, and is less than species; since it does not possess all differences in energy, but in capacity alone; whence also, it becomes as it were the matter of the succeeding formal differences. But the reason of man in our soul is better and more comprehensive; for it comprehends all the differences of man unitedly, and not in capacity, like the universal in particulars, but in energy. If, therefore, definition is the principle of demonstration, it is requisite that it should be the definition of a thing of that kind which is entirely comprehensive of that which is more partial. But of this kind are the forms in our soul, and not the forms which subsist in particulars. These, therefore, being subverted, neither will it be possible to define. Hence the definitive together with the demonstrative art will perish, abandoning the conceptions of the human mind. The divisive art also, together with these, will be nothing but a name: for the whole employment of division is, to separate the many from the one, and to distribute things presubsisting unitedly in the whole, into their proper differences, not adding the differences externally, but contemplating them as inherent in the genera themselves, and as dividing the species from each other. Where, therefore, will the work of this art be found, if we do not admit that there are essential forms in our soul? For he who supposes that this art is employed in things of posterior origin, i. e. forms abstracted from sensibles, perceives nothing of the power which it possesses: for to divide things of posterior origin, is the business of the divisive art, energizing according to opinion; but to contemplate the essential differences of the reasons in the soul, is the employment of dianoëtic and scientific division, which also unfolds united powers, and perceives things more partial branching forth from such as are more total. By a much greater priority, therefore, to the definitive and demonstrative arts will the divisive be entirely vain, if the soul does not contain essential reasons: for definition is more venerable, and ranks more as a principle than demonstration, and again, division than definition: for the divisive gives to the definitive art its principles, but not vice versa. The analytic art also, must perish together with these, if we do not admit the essential reasons of the soul. For the analytic is opposed to the demonstrative method, as resolving from things caused to causes, but to the definitive as proceeding from composites to things more simple, and to the divisive, as ascending from things more partial to such as are more universal. So that those methods being destroyed, this also will perish. If, therefore, there are not forms or ideas, neither shall we contain the reasons of things. And if we do not contain the reasons of things, neither will there be the dialectic methods according to which we obtain a knowledge of things, nor shall we know where to turn the dianoëtic power of the soul.
[44] Socrates was alone deficient in skill, whence Parmenides exhorts him to apply himself to dialectic, through which he would become much more skilful, being exercised in many things, and perceiving the consequences of hypotheses; and when he has accomplished this, Parmenides advises him to turn to the speculation of forms. For such particulars as are now dubious are very easy of solution to those that are exercised in dialectic. And this is the whole end of the words. This exercise, however, must not be thought to be such as that which is called by logicians the epichirematic or argumentative method. For that looks to opinion, but this despises the opinion of the multitude. Hence, to the many it appears to be nothing but words, and is on this account denominated by them garrulity. The epichirematic method, indeed, delivers many arguments about one problem; but this exercise delivers the same method to us about many and different problems; so that the one is very different from the other. The latter, however, is more beautiful than the former, as it uses more excellent methods, beginning from on high, in order to accomplish its proper work. For, as we have already observed in the Introduction to this dialogue, it employs as its instruments division and definition, analysis and demonstration. If, therefore, we exercise ourselves in this method, there is much hope that we shall genuinely apprehend the theory of ideas; distinctly evolving our confused conceptions; dissolving apparent doubts; and demonstrating things of which we are now ignorant. But till we can effect this, we shall not be able to give a scientific definition of every form. Should it, however, be inquired whether it is possible to define forms or not, such as the beautiful itself, or the just itself; for forms, as Plato says in his Epistles, are only to be apprehended by the simple vision of intelligence; to this we reply, that the beautiful itself, the just itself, and the good itself, considered as ideas, are not only in intellect, but also in souls, and in sensible natures. And of these, some are definable, and others not. This being the case, intellectual forms, though they may be in many and partial natures, cannot be defined on account of their simplicity, and because they are apprehended by intelligence, and not through composition; and likewise, because whatever is defined ought to participate of something common, which is, as it were, a subject, and is different from itself. But in divine forms there is nothing of this kind: for being, as Timæus says, does not proceed into any thing else, but though it makes a certain progression from itself, yet after a manner it is the same with its immediate progeny, being only unfolded into a second order. Forms, however, belonging to soul, and subsisting in sensibles, can be defined; and, in short, such things as are produced according to a paradigmatic cause, and such as are said to participate of forms. Hence, dialectic speculates the first forms by simple intuitions; but when it defines, or divides, it looks to the images of these. If, therefore, such a science is the purest part of intellect and prudence, it is evident that it employs pure intellections, through which it apprehends intelligibles, and multiform methods by which it binds the spectacles derived from intelligibles, and which subsist in secondary orders: and thus it appears that the assertions of Plato are true. But it is by no means wonderful if we also define certain other particulars of which there are no ideas, such as things artificial, parts, and things evil. For there are in us reasons of wholes which are according to nature, and also of things good; and in consequence of this, we know such things as give completion to wholes, such as imitate nature, and such as have merely a shadowy subsistence. For such as is each of these, such also is it known and defined by us; and we discourse about them from the definitely stable reasons which we contain.
[45] Some, says Proclus, are neither impelled to, nor are astonished about, the speculation of beings: others again have obtained perfection according to knowledge: and others are impelled, indeed, but require perfection, logical skill, and exercise, in order to the attainment of the end. Among the last of these is Socrates; whence Parmenides, indeed, receives his impulse, and calls it divine, as being philosophic. For, to despise things apparent, and to contemplate an incorporeal essence, is philosophic and divine; since every thing divine is of this kind, separate from sensibles, and subsisting in immaterial intellections. But Parmenides also calls the impulse of Socrates beautiful, as leading to that which is truly beautiful, (which does not consist in practical affairs, as the Stoics afterwards conceived it did, but in intellectual energies,) and as adapted to true love. For the amatory form of life especially adheres to beauty. Very properly, therefore, does Parmenides admit the impulse of Socrates as divine and beautiful, as leading to intellect and the one. As divine, indeed, it vindicates to itself the one, but as beautiful, intellect, in which the beautiful first subsists; and as purifying the eye of the soul, and exciting its most divine part. But he extends the road through dialectic as irreprehensible and most expedient; being connate, indeed, with things, but employing many powers for the apprehension of truth; imitating intellect, from which also it receives its principles, but beautifully extending through well-ordered gradations to true being, and giving respite to the wandering about sensibles; and lastly, exploring every thing by methods which cannot be confuted, till it arrives at the occult residence of the one and the good. But when Parmenides says, “if you do not truth will elude your pursuit,” he manifests the danger which threatens us from rash and disordered impulse to things inaccessible to the unexercised, and this is no other than falling from the whole of truth. For an orderly progression is that which makes our ascent secure and irreprehensible. Hence, Proclus adds, the Chaldæan oracle says, “that Divinity is never so much turned from man, and never so much sends us novel paths, as when we make our ascent to the most divine of speculations or works in a confused and disordered manner, and, as it adds, with unbathed feet, and with unhallowed lips. For, of those that are thus negligent, the progressions are imperfect, the impulses are vain, and the paths are blind.” Being persuaded, therefore, both by Plato and the oracles, we should always ascend through things more proximate to us to such as are more excellent, and from things more subordinate, through mediums, to such as are more elevated.
[46] If again, says Proclus, Parmenides calls this dialectic an exercise (γυμνασια), not being argumentative, we ought not to wonder. For every logical discursus, and the evolution itself of theorems, considered with reference to an intellectual life, is an exercise. For as we call endurance an exercise, with reference to fortitude, and continence, with respect to temperance, so every logical theory may be called an exercise with reference to intellectual knowledge. The scientific discursus, therefore, of the dianoëtic power, which is the business of dialectic, is a dianoëtic exercise preparatory to the most simple intellection of the soul.
[47] Again, in these words Parmenides evinces his admiration of the astonishment of Socrates about intelligibles and immaterial forms: for he says that he admires his transferring the dialectic power from sensibles to intelligibles; and he also adds the cause of this. For things which are especially apprehended by reason, or the summit of the dianoëtic part (for such is the meaning of reason in this place), are intelligibles; since Timæus also says that the reason about sensibles is not firm and stable, but conjectural, but that the reason which is employed about intelligibles is immovable and cannot be confuted. For sensibles are not accurately that which they are said to be; but intelligibles having a proper subsistence, are moreable to be known. But, after another manner, it may be said that intelligible forms are especially known by reason, and this by beginning from the gnostic powers. For sense has no knowledge whatever of these forms; the phantasy receives figured images of them; opinion logically apprehends them, and without figure, but at the same time possesses the various, and is, in short, naturally adapted alone to know that, and not why, they are. Hence, the summit of our dianoëtic part is the only sufficient speculator of forms: and hence Timæus says that true being is apprehended by intelligence in conjunction with reason. So that forms, properly so called, are justly said to be especially apprehended by reason. For all sensible things are partial; since every body is partial: for no body is capable of being all things, nor of subsisting impartibly, in a multitude of particulars. Physical forms verge to bodies, and are divided about them; and the forms belonging to the soul participate of variety, and fall short of the simplicity of intellectual forms. Hence, such forms as are called intellectual and intelligible, and are most remote from matter are especially to be apprehended by reason. The dialectic wandering, therefore, is necessary to the survey of these forms, exercising and fitting us, like the preparatory part of the mysteries, for the vision of these splendid beings. Nor must we by this wandering understand, as we have before observed, a merely logical discursus about matters of opinion, but the whole of dialectic, which Plato in the Republic calls the defensive inclosure of disciplines, and which, in the evolutions of arguments, exercises us to the more accurate intellection of immaterial and separate natures. Nor must we wonder, says Proclus, that Plato calls scientific theory wandering: for it is so denominated with reference to pure intelligence, and the simple apprehension of intelligibles. And what wonder is it, says he, if Plato calls a progression of this kind wandering, since some of those posterior to him have not refused to denominate the variety of intellections in intellect a wandering; for though the intelligence in intellect is immutable, yet it is at the same time one and multiplied, through the multitude of intelligibles. And why is it requisite to speak concerning intellect, since those who energize in the highest perfection from a divine afflatus, are accustomed to speak of the wanderings of the Gods themselves, not only of those in the heavens, but also of those that are denominated intellectual; obscurely signifying by this their progression, their being present to all secondary natures, and their prolific providence as far as to the last of things. For they say that every thing which proceeds into multitude wanders; but that the inerratic alone subsists in the stable and uniform. Wandering, indeed, appears to signify four things, either a multitude of energies, though they may all subsist together, or a transitive multitude, like the intellections of the soul, or a multitude proceeding from opposites to opposites, or a multitude of disordered motions. The dialectic exercise is called a wandering according to the third of these, in consequence of proceeding through opposite hypotheses. So that if there is any thing which energizes according to one immutable energy, this is truly inerratic.
[48] It appears to me, says Proclus, to be well said by the antients that Plato has given perfection in this dialogue to the writings both of Zeno and Parmenides, producing the dialectic exercise of the former to both opposites, and elevating the theory of the latter to true being. We shall find, therefore, the perfection of the writings of Parmenides in the following part of this dialogue, which contains nine hypotheses concerning the one; but we may perceive the perfection of Zeno’s writings in what is now said. In addition, therefore, to what we have already delivered respecting the dialectic of Zeno in the preceding Introduction, we shall subjoin from Proclus the following observations. The discourse of Zeno having supposed the multitude of forms separate from the one, collects the absurdities which follow from this hypothesis, and this by considering what follows, and what follows and does not follow: for he collects that they are similar and not similar; and proceeds in a similar manner respecting the one and the many, motion and permanency. Parmenides, however, thinks it fit that in dialectic investigations it should not only be supposed if the one is, but also if it is not, and to speculate what will happen from this hypothesis; as, for instance, not only if similitude is, but also if it is not, what will happen, either as consequent, or as not consequent, or as consequent and at the same time not consequent. But his reason for making such an addition is this: if we only suppose that a thing is, and discover what will be the consequence of the hypothesis, we shall not entirely discover that of which the thing supposed is essentially the cause; but if we can demonstrate in addition to this, that if it is not, this very same thing will no longer follow which was the consequence of its being supposed to have a subsistence, then it becomes evident to us that if the one is, the other is also.
[49] Socrates not being able to apprehend the whole method synoptically delivered, through what has been previously said, requests Parmenides to unfold it more clearly. Parmenides accordingly again gives a specimen of this method logically and synoptically: comprehending in eight the four and twenty modes which we have already mentioned in the Introduction to this dialogue. For, he assumes, if it happens, and if it follows and does not follow, and both these conjoined; so that again we may thus be able to triple the eight modes. But let us concisely consider, with Proclus, these eight modes in the hypothesis of Zeno:—If, then, the many have a subsistence, there will simply happen to the many with respect to themselves to be separated, not to be principles, to subsist dissimilarly. But to the many with respect to the one there will happen, to be comprehended by the one, to be generated by it, and to participate of similitude and union from it. To the one there will happen, to have dominion over the many, to be participated by them, to subsist prior to them; and this with respect to the many. But to the one with respect to itself there will happen the impartible, the unmultiplied, that which is better than being, and life, and knowledge; and every thing of this kind. Again, if the many is not, there will happen to the many with respect to themselves the unseparated and the undivided from each other: but to the many with respect to the one, a subsistence unproceeding from the one, a privation of difference with respect to the one. To the one with respect to itself there will happen the possession of nothing efficacious and perfect in its own nature; for if it possessed any thing of this kind it would generate the many. To the one with respect to the many, not to be the leader of multitude, and not to operate any thing in the many. Hence, we may conclude, that the one is every where that which makes multitude to be one thing, is the cause of, and has dominion over, multitude. And here you may see that the transition is from the object of investigation to its cause; for such is the one. It is requisite, therefore, that always after many discussions and hypotheses there should be a certain summary deduction, (κεφαλαιουμενον.) For thus Plato, through all the intellectual conceptions, shows that the one gives subsistence to all things, and to the unities in beings, which we say is the end of the dialogue. Some one, however, may probably inquire how it is possible for any thing to happen to that which is not. And how can that be the recipient of any thing which has no subsistence whatever? To this we reply, that non-being, as we learn in the Sophista, is either that which in no respect has a subsistence (το μηδαμη μηδαμως ον), or it is privation, for by itself it is not, but has an accidental being; or it is matter, for this is not, as being formless, and naturally indefinite; or it is every thing material, as that which has an apparent being, but properly is not; or, further still, it is every thing sensible, for this is continually conversant with generation and corruption, but never truly is. Prior to these, also, there is non-being in souls, according to which they are likewise said to be the first of generated natures, and not to belong to those true beings which rank in intelligibles. And prior to souls, there is the non-being in intelligibles themselves, and this is the first difference of beings, as we are taught by the Sophista, and which as we there learn is not less than being itself. Lastly, beyond all these is the non-being of that which is prior to being, which is the cause of all beings, and is exempt from the multitude which they contain. If, therefore, non-being may be predicated in so many ways, it is evident that what has not in any respect being, can never become the subject of hypothesis: for it is not possible to speak of this, nor to have any knowledge of it, as the Eleatean guest in the Sophista shows, confirming the assertion of Parmenides concerning it. But when we say that the many is not, or that the one is not, or that soul is not, we so make the negation, as that each of these is something else, but is not that particular thing, the being of which we deny. And thus the hypothesis does not lead to that which in no respect has a subsistence, but to that which partly is, and partly is not: for, in short, negations are the progeny of intellectual difference. Hence, a thing is not a horse, because it is another thing; and, through this, it is not man, because it is something else. And Plato in the Sophista on this account says, that when we say non-being, we only assert an ablation of being, but not the contrary to being, meaning by contrary, that which is most distant from being, and which perfectly falls from it. So that when we say a thing is not, we do not introduce that which in no respect has a being, nor when we make non-being the subject of hypothesis do we suppose that which is in no respect is, but we signify as much of non-being as is capable of being known and expressed by words.—For an account of the Eleatic method of reasoning which Plato here delivers, see the Introduction to this dialogue.
[50] If similitude is, says Proclus, there will happen to itself with respect to itself, the monadic, the perpetual, the prolific, and the primary. But, with respect to sensibles, the assimilation of them to intelligibles, the not suffering them to fall into the place of dissimilitude, and the conjunction of parts with their wholenesses. To sensibles with respect to themselves there will happen, a communion with each other, a participation of, and a rejoicing in, each other. For similars rejoice in, are copassive, and are mingled with similars. But with respect to similitude there will happen a participation of it, an assimilation with, and union according to, it. But if similitude is not, there will happen to itself according to itself the unessential, the neither possessing prolific power, nor a primary essence. But with respect to others not to have dominion over them, not to make them similar to themselves according to form, but rather in conjunction with itself to take away the similar which is in them; for the principle of similars not having a subsistence, neither will these be similar. But to sensibles with respect to themselves there will happen the immovable, the unmingled, the unsympathetic. But with respect to it, neither to be fashioned by form according to it, nor to be connected by it. In like manner we say with respect to the dissimilar. For if dissimilitude is, there will happen to itself with respect to itself to be a form pure, immaterial and uniform, possessing multitude together with unity; but with respect to other things, I mean sensibles, a cause of the definite circumscription and division in each. To other things with respect to themselves there will happen, that each will preserve its proper idiom and form without confusion; but with respect to it, to be suspended from it, and to be adorned both according to wholes and parts by it. But if dissimilitude is not, it will neither be a pure and immaterial form, nor, in short, one and not one, nor will it possess, with respect to other things, a cause of the separate essence of each; and other things will possess an all-various confusion in themselves, and will not be the participants of one power which gives separation to wholes. From these things, therefore, we collect that similitude is the cause of communion, sympathy, and commixture to sensibles; but dissimilitude of separation, production according to form, and unconfused purity of powers in themselves. For these things follow the positions of similitude and dissimilitude, but the contraries of these from their being taken away.
[51] If motion is, there will happen to itself with respect to itself the eternal, and the possession of infinite power; but to itself, with respect to things which are here, to be motive of them, the vivific, the cause of progression, and of various energies. But to these things with respect to themselves there will happen, the energetic, the vivific, the mutable; for every thing material passes from a subsistence in capacity, to a subsistence in energy. To other things with respect to motion there will happen, to be perfected by it, to partake of its power, to be assimilated through it to things eternally stable. For things which are incapable of obtaining good stably, participate of it through motion. But if motion is not, it will be inefficacious, sluggish, and without power; it will not be a cause of things which are here; will be void of motive powers, and a producing essence. And things which are here will be uncoordinated, indefinite and imperfect, first motion not having a subsistence. In like manner with respect to permanency, if it is, there will happen to itself with reference to itself, the stable, the eternal, and the uniform. But to other things with respect to themselves, that each will abide in its proper boundaries, and will be firmly established in the same places or measures. To other things with respect to it there will happen, to be every way bounded and subdued by it, and to partake of stability in being. But if it is not, there will happen to itself with respect to itself, the inefficacious, and the unstable. To itself with reference to other things, not to afford them the stable, the secure, and the firm; but to other things with respect to themselves the much wandering, the unestablished, the imperfect, and the being deprived of habitation; and to other things with respect to it, neither to be subservient to its measures, nor to partake of being according to it, but to be borne along in a perfectly disordered manner, that which connects and establishes them, not having a subsistence. Motion itself, therefore, is the supplier of efficacious power, and multiform life and energy; but permanency, of firmness and stability, and an establishment in proper boundaries.
[52] Let us now consider, says Proclus, prior to these, whence generation and corruption originate, and if the causes of these are to be placed in ideas. Or is not this indeed necessary, not only because these rank among things perpetual (for neither is it possible for generation not to be, nor for corruption to be entirely dissolved, but it is necessary that these should consubsist with each other in the universe, so far as it is perpetual) but this is also requisite, because generation participates of essence and being, but corruption of non-being. For every thing so far as it is generated is referred to essence, and partakes of being, but so far as it is corrupted, it is referred to non-being, and a mutation of the is to another form. For through this it is corrupted from one thing into another, because non-being presubsists which gives division to forms. And as in intelligibles, non-being is not less than being, as is asserted by the Eleatean guest, so here corruption is not less than generation, nor does it less contribute to the perfection of the universe. And as there, that which participates of being enjoys also non-being, and non-being partakes of being, so here that which is in generation, or in passing into being, is also the recipient of corruption, and that which is corrupting, of generation. Being, therefore, and non-being, are the causes of generation and corruption. But it is requisite to exercise ourselves after the same manner with respect to these. In the first place, then, if generation is, it is in itself imperfect, and is the cause to others of an assimilation to essence. But there will happen to other things with respect to themselves, a mutation from each other: and to other things with respect to generation, there will happen a perpetual participation of it, in consequence of its subsisting in them. But if generation is not, it will be itself, not the object of opinion; and with respect to other things it will not be the form of any thing, nor the cause of order and perfection to any thing; but other things will be unbegotten and impassive; and will have no communion with it, nor participate through it of being. In like manner with respect to corruption: If corruption is, there will happen to itself with respect to itself, the never failing, infinite power, and a fullness of non-being; but to itself with respect to other things, the giving measure to being, and the cause of perpetual generation. But to other things with respect to themselves, there will happen a flowing into each other, and an inability of connecting themselves. And to other things with respect to corruption there will happen, to be perpetually changed by it, to have non-being conjoined with being, and to participate of corruption totally. But if corruption is not, there will happen to itself with respect to itself, that it will not be subversive of itself; for not having a subsistence, it will subvert itself with respect to other things. To itself, with reference to other things there will happen, that it will not dissipate them, nor change them into each other, nor dilacerate being and essence. To other things with respect to themselves there will happen, the not being changed into each other, the not being passive to each other, and that each will preserve the same order. But to other things with respect to it there will happen, the not being passive to it. The peculiarity, therefore, of generation is to move to being, but of corruption to lead from being. For this we infer from the preceding hypotheses, since it has appeared to us that admitting their existence, they are the causes of being and non-being to other things; and that being subverted they introduce a privation of motion and mutation.
[53] We engage, says Proclus, in the investigation of things in a twofold respect, contemplating at one time if a thing is or is not, and at another time, if this particular thing is present with it, or is not present, as in the inquiry if the soul is immortal. For here we must not only consider all that happens to the thing supposed, with respect to itself and other things, and to other things with respect to the thing supposed, but also what happens with reference to subsistence and non-subsistence. Thus, for instance, if the soul is immortal, its virtue will have a connate life, sufficient to felicity; and this will happen to itself with respect to itself. But to itself with respect to other things there will happen, to use them as instruments, to provide for them separately, to impart life to them. In the second place, to other things with respect to themselves there will happen, that things living and dead will be generated from each other, the possession of an adventitious immortality, the circle of generation; but to other things with respect to it, to be adorned by it, to participate of a certain self-motion, and to be suspended from it, in living. But if the soul is not immortal, it will not be self-motive, it will not be intellectual essentially, it will not be self-vital; nor will its disciplines be reminiscences. It will be corrupted by its own proper evil, and will not have a knowledge of true beings. And these things will happen to itself with respect to itself. But to itself with respect to others there will happen, to be mingled with bodies and material natures, to have no dominion over itself, to be incapable of leading others as it pleases, to be subservient to the temperament of bodies; and all its life will be corporeal, and conversant with generation. To other things with respect to themselves there will happen, such a habit as that which consists from entelecheia and body. For there will alone be animals composed from an indefinite life and bodies. But to other things with respect to it there will happen, to be the leaders of it, to change it together with their own motions, and to possess it in themselves, and not externally governing them, and to live in conjunction with and not from it. You see, therefore, that after this manner we discover by the dialectic art the mode, not only how we may be able to suppose if a thing is and is not, but any other passion which it may suffer, such as the being immortal or not immortal. Since, however we may consider the relation of one thing to another variously; for we may either consider it with reference to one thing only, as for instance, how similitude, if it is supposed to be, subsists with respect to dissimilitude; or, we may consider it with respect to more than one thing, as for instance, how essence, if supposed to be, is with reference to permanency and motion; or with respect to all things, as, if the one is, how it subsists with reference to all things,—this being the case, Plato does not omit this, but adds, That it is requisite to consider the consequences with respect to one thing only, which you may select for this purpose, and towards many, and towards all things in a similar manner. It is necessary indeed that this one, or those many should be allied to the thing proposed, for instance, as the similar to the dissimilar: for these are coordinate to each other. And motion and rest to essence: for these are contained in and subsist about it. But if the difference with respect to another thing, is with respect to one thing, to many things, and to all things, and we say there are twenty four modes, assuming in one way only a subsistence with reference to another, this is not wonderful. For difference with respect to another thing pertains to matter; but we propose to deliver the form of the dialectic method, and the formal but not the material differences which it contains. Observe, too, that Plato adds, that the end of this exercise is the perception of truth. We must not, therefore, consider him as simply speaking of scientific truth, but of that which is intelligible, or which in other words, subsists according to a superessential characteristic: for the whole of our life is an exercise to the vision of this, and the wandering through dialectic hastens to that as its port. Hence Plato in a wonderful manner uses the word διοψεσθαι to look through: for souls obtain the vision of intelligibles through many mediums. But again, that the method may become perspicuous to us from another example, let us investigate the four-and-twenty modes in providence. If then providence is, there will follow to itself with respect to itself, the beneficent, the infinitely powerful, the efficacious; but there will not follow, the subversion of itself, the privation of counsel, the unwilling. That which follows and does not follow is, that it is one and not one. There will follow to itself with respect to other things, to govern them, to preserve every thing, to possess the beginning and the end of all things, and to bound the whole of sensibles. That which does not follow is, to injure the objects of its providential care, to supply that which is contrary to expectation, to be the cause of disorder. There will follow and not follow, the being present to all things, and an exemption from them; the knowing and not knowing them: for it knows them in a different manner, and not with powers coordinate to the things known. There will follow to other things with respect to themselves, to suffer nothing casually from each other, and that nothing will be injured by any thing. There will not follow, that any thing pertaining to them will be from fortune, and the being uncoordinated with each other. There will follow and not follow, that all things are good; for this will partly pertain to them and partly not. To other things with respect to it there will follow, to be suspended from it, on all sides to be guarded and benefited by it. There will not follow, an opposition to it, and the possibility of escaping it. For there is nothing so small that it can be concealed from it, nor so elevated that it cannot be vanquished by it. There will follow and not follow, that every thing will participate of providence: for in one respect they partake of it, and in another not of it, but of the goods which are imparted to every thing from it. But let providence not have a subsistence, again there will follow to itself with respect to itself, the imperfect, the unprolific, the inefficacious, a subsistence for itself alone. There will not follow, the unenvying, the transcendently full, the sufficient, the assiduous. There will follow and not follow, the unsolicitous, and the undisturbed: for in one respect these will be present with that which does not providentially energize, and in another respect will not, in consequence of secondary natures not being governed by it. But it is evident that there will follow to itself with respect to other things, the unmingled, the privation of communion with all things, the not knowing any thing. There will not follow, the assimilating other things to itself, and the imparting to all things the good that is fit. There will follow and not follow, the being desirable to other things: for this in a certain respect is possible and not possible. For, if it should be said, that through a transcendency exempt from all things, it does not providentially energize, nothing hinders but that it may be an object of desire to all secondary natures; but yet, considered as deprived of this power, it will not be desirable. To other things with respect to themselves there will follow, the unadorned, the casual, the indefinite in passivity, the reception of many things adventitious in their natures, the being carried in a confused and disordered manner. There will not follow, an allotment with respect to one thing, a distribution according to merit, and a subsistence according to intellect. There will follow and not follow, the being good: for, so far as they are beings, they must necessarily be good: and yet, providence not having a subsistence, it cannot be said whence they possess good. But to other things with respect to providence there will follow, the not being passive to it, and the being uncoordinated with respect to it. There will not follow, the being measured and bounded by it. There will follow and not follow, the being ignorant of it: for it is necessary they should know that it is not, if it is not. And it is also necessary that they should not know it; for there is nothing common to them with respect to providence.
[54] By this Plato indicates that the ensuing discourse contains much truth, as Proclus well observes: and if you consider it with relation to the soul, you may say that it is not proper for one who is able to perceive intellectually divine natures, to energize through the garrulous phantasy and body, but such a one should abide in his elevated place of survey, and in his peculiar manners. It is laborious, therefore, for him who lives intellectually to energize logically and imaginatively, and for him who is converted to himself, to direct his attention to another; and to simplicity of knowledge the variety of reasons is arduous. It is also laborious to an old man to swim through such a sea of arguments. The assertion also has much truth, if the subjects themselves are considered. For frequently universal canons are easily apprehended, but no small difficulty presents itself to those that endeavour to use them; as is evident in the lemmas of geometry, which are founded on universal assertions. Proclus adds, that the difficulty of this dialectic method in the use of it is evident, from no one after Plato having professedly written upon it; and on this account, says he, we have endeavoured to illustrate it by so many examples. For the sake of the truly philosophic reader, therefore, I shall subjoin the following specimen of the dialectic method, in addition to what has been already delivered on the subject. The importance of such illustrations, and the difficulty with which the composition of them is attended, will, I doubt not, be a sufficient apology for its appearing in this place. It is extracted, as well as the preceding, from the admirable MS. commentary of Proclus on this dialogue. Let it then be proposed to consider the consequences of admitting or denying the perpetual existence of soul. If then soul always is, the consequences to itself, with respect to itself, are, the self-motive, the self-vital, and the self-subsistent: but the things which do not follow to itself with re- spect to itself, are, the destruction of itself, the being perfectly ignorant, and knowing nothing of itself. The consequences which follow and do not follow are the indivisible and the divisible⁵⁵, (for in a certain respect it is divisible, and in a certain respect in- divisible), perpetuity and non-perpetuity of being; for so far as it communicates with intellect, it is eternal, but so far as it verges to a corporeal nature, it is mutable. Again, if soul is, the consequences to itself with respect to other things, i. e. bodies, are communication of motion, the connecting of bodies, as long as it is present with them, together with dominion over bodies, according to nature. That which does not follow, is to move externally; for it is the property of animated natures to be moved inwardly; and to be the cause of rest and immutability to bodies. The consequences which follow and do not follow, are, to be present to bodies, and yet to be present separate from them; for soul is present to them, by its providential energies, but is exempt from them by its essence, because this is incorporeal. And this is the first hexad. The second hexad is as follows: if soul is, the consequence to other things, i. e. bodies with respect to themselves, is sympathy; for, according to a vivific cause, bodies sympathize with each other. But that which does not follow, is the non-sensitive; for, in consequence of there being such a thing as soul, all things must necessarily be sensitive: some things peculiarly so, and others as parts of the whole. The consequences which follow and do not follow to bodies with respect to themselves are, that in a certain respect they move themselves, through being animated, and in a certain respect do not move themselves: for there are many modes of self-motion. Again, if soul is, the consequences to bodies with respect to soul are, to be moved internally and vivified by soul, to be preserved and connected through it, and to be entirely suspended from it. The consequences which do not follow are, to be dissipated by soul, and to be filled from it with a privation of life; for bodies receive from soul life and connection. The consequences which follow and do not follow are, that bodies participate, and do not participate of soul; for so far as soul is present with bodies, so far they may be said to participate of soul; but so far as it is separate from them, so far they do not participate of soul. And this forms the second hexad. The third hexad is as follows: if soul is not, the consequences to itself with respect to itself are, the non-vital, the unessential, and the non-intellectual; for, not having any subsistence, it has neither essence, nor life, nor intellect. The consequences which do not follow are, the ability to preserve itself, to give subsistence to, and be motive of, itself, with every thing else of this kind. The consequences which follow and do not follow are, the unknown and the irrational. For not having a subsistence, it is in a certain respect unknown and irrational with respect to itself, as neither reasoning nor having any knowledge of itself; but in another respect, it is neither irrational nor unknown, if it is considered as a certain nature, which is not rational, nor endued with knowledge. Again, if soul is not, the consequences which follow to itself with respect to bodies are, to be unprolific of them, to be unmingled with, and to employ no providential energies about, them. The consequences which do not follow are, to move, vivify, and connect bodies. The consequences which follow and do not follow are, that it is different from bodies, and that it does not communicate with them. For this in a certain respect is true, and not true; if that which is not soul is considered as having indeed a being, but unconnected with soul: for thus it is different from bodies, since these are perpetually connected with soul. And again, it is not different from bodies, so far as it has no subsistence, and is not. And this forms the third hexad. In the fourth place, then, if soul is not, the consequences to bodies with respect to themselves are, the immovable, privation of difference according to life, and the privation of sympathy to each other. The consequences which do not follow are, a sensible knowledge of each other, and to be moved from themselves. That which follows and does not follow is, to be passive to each other; for in one respect they would be passive, and in another not; since they would be alone corporeally and not vitally passive. Again, if soul is not, the consequences to other things with respect to it are, not to be taken care of, nor to be moved by soul. The consequences which do not follow are, to be vivified and connected by soul. The consequences which follow and do not follow are, to be assimilated and not assimilated to soul: for, so far as soul having no subsistence, neither will bodies subsist, so far they will be assimilated to soul; for they will suffer the same with it; but so far as it is impossible for that which is not to be similar to any thing, so far bodies will have no similitude to soul. And this forms the fourth and last hexad. Hence we conclude, that soul is the cause of life, sympathy, and motion to bodies; and, in short, of their being and preservation: for soul subsisting, these are at the same time introduced; but not subsisting, they are at the same time taken away.
[55] For soul, according to Plato, subsists between intellect and a corporeal nature; the former of which is perfectly indivisible, and the latter perfectly divisible.
[56] It it unnecessary to observe, that the most divine of dogmas are unadapted to the ears of the many, since Plato himself says that all these things are ridiculous to the multitude, but thought worthy of admiration by the wise. Thus also, says Proclus, the Pythagoreans assert, that of discourses, some are mystical, and others to be exposed in open day; and the Peripatetics, that some are esoteric, and others exoteric; and Parmenides himself wrote some things according to truth, and others according to opinion; and Zeno calls some discourses true, and others useful. Ὁυτω δε και ὁι Πυθαγορειοι των λογων, τους μεν εφασκον ειναι μυστικους, τους δε ὑπαιθριους, και ὁι εκ του περιπατου, τους μεν εσωτερικους, τους δε εξωτερικους, και αυτος Παρμενιδης, τα μεν προς αληθειαν εγραψε, τα δε προς δοξαν, και ὁ Ζηνων δε τους μεν αληθεις εκαλει των λογων, τους δε χρειωδεις. The multitude therefore, says Proclus, are ignorant how great the power is of dialectic, and that the end of this wandering is truth and intellect. For it is not possible for us to recur from things last to such as are first, except by a progression through the middle forms of life. For, as our descent into the realms of mortality was effected through many media, the soul always proceeding into that which is more composite, in like manner our ascent must be accomplished through various media, the soul resolving her composite order of life. In the first place, therefore, it is requisite to despise the senses, as able to know nothing accurate, nothing sane, but possessing much of the confused, the material, and the passive, in consequence of employing certain instruments of this kind. After this it follows, that we should dismiss imaginations, those winged stymphalidæ of the soul, as alone possessing a figured intellection of things, but by no means able to apprehend unfigured and impartible form, and as impeding the pure and immaterial intellection of the soul, by intervening and disturbing it in its investigations. In the third place, we must entirely extirpate multiform opinions, and the wandering of the soul about these; for they are not conversant with the causes of things, nor do they procure for us science, nor the participation of a separate intellect. In the fourth place, therefore, we must hastily return to the great sea of the sciences, and there, by the assistance of dialectic, survey the divisions and compositions of these, and, in short, the variety of forms in the soul, and through this survey, unweaving our vital order, behold our dianoëtic part. After this, in the fifth place, it is requisite to separate ourselves from composition, and contemplate by intellectual energy true beings: for intellect is more excellent than science; and a life according to intellect is preferable to that which is according to science. Many, therefore, are the wanderings of the soul: for one of these is in imaginations, another in opinions, and a third in the dianoëtic power. But a life according to intellect is alone inerratic. And this is the mystic port of the soul, into which Homer conducts Ulysses, after an abundant wandering of life.
[57] Parmenides, as Proclus beautifully observes, well knew what the wandering of the soul is, not only in the senses, imaginations, and opinions, but also in the dianoëtic evolutions of arguments. Knowing this, therefore, and remembering the labours he had endured, he is afraid of again descending to such an abundant wandering; like another Ulysses, after passing through various regions, and being now in possession of his proper good, when called to certain similar barbaric battles, he is averse, through long experience, to depart from his own country, as remembering the difficulties which he sustained in war, and his long extended wandering. Having, therefore, ascended to reasoning from phantasies and the senses, and to intellect from reasoning, he is very properly afraid of a descent to reasoning, and of the wandering in the dianoëtic part, lest he should in a certain respect become oblivious, and should be drawn down to phantasy and sense. For the descent from intellect is not safe, nor is it proper to depart from things first, lest we should unconsciously abide in those of a subordinate nature. Parmenides, therefore, being now established in the port of intellect, is averse again to descend to a multitude of reasonings from an intellectual and simple form of energy. At the same time, however, he does descend for the sake of benefitting secondary natures; for the very grace (χαρις) itself is an imitation of the providence of the Gods. Such, therefore, ought the descents of divine souls from the intelligible to be, coming from divine natures, knowing the evils arising from wandering, and descending for the benefit alone of fallen souls, and not to fill up a life enamoured with generation, nor falling profoundly, nor agglutinating themselves to the indefinite forms of life. I only add, that Ibycus, from whom Parmenides borrows his simile of a horse, was a Rheginensian poet, and is mentioned by Cicero in Tuscul. Quæstion. lib. 4. Pausan. Corinth. lib. 2. Suidas and Erasmus in Adagiis. There are also two epigrams upon him in the Anthologia.
[58] Parmenides, says Proclus, descending to the evolution of arguments, and to scientifically-discursive energies from his intellectual place of survey, and from a form of life without, to one with habitude, asks his participants whence he shall begin, and from what hypothesis he shall frame, his discourse; not suspending his intellect from their judgment; for it is not lawful that the energy of more excellent natures should be measured from that of such as are subordinate; but converting them to himself, and exciting them to a perception of his meaning, that he may not insert arguments in the stupid, as nature implants productive principles in bodies, but that he may lead them to themselves, and that they may be impelled to being in conjunction with him. For thus intellect leads souls, not only elevating them together with itself, but preparing them to assist themselves. He exhorts, therefore, his participants to attend to themselves, and to behold whence he begins, and through what media he proceeds, but does not seek to learn from them what is proper on the occasion. That this is the case is evident from hence, that he does not wait for their answer, but discourses from that which appears to him to be best.
[59] The one method of Parmenides assumes one hypothesis, and according to it frames the whole discourse, this hypothesis not being one of many, as it may appear to some, but that which is comprehensive of all hypotheses, and is one prior to the many. For it unfolds all beings, and the whole order of things, both intelligible and sensible, together with the unities of them, and the one ineffable unity, the fountain of all these. For the one is the cause of all things, and from this all things are generated in a consequent order from the hypothesis of Parmenides. But perhaps, says Proclus, some one may ask us how Parmenides, who in his poems sings concerning true or the one being, (το ἑν ον), calls the one his hypothesis, and says that he shall begin from this his proper principle. Some then have said that, Parmenides making being the whole subject of his discussion, Plato, finding that the one is beyond being and all essence, corrects Parmenides, and represents him beginning from the one. For, say they, as Gorgias and Protagoras, and each of the other persons in his dialogues, speak better in those dialogues than in their own writings, so, likewise, Parmenides is more philosophic in Plato, and more profound, than in his own compositions; since in the former he says, if the one is, it is not one being, as alone discoursing concerning the one, and not concerning one being, or being characterized by the one; and in the following hypotheses he says, if the one is not; and lastly, infers that if the one is, or is not, all things are, and are not. Parmenides, therefore, being Platonic, calls that his hypothesis which supposes the one. In answer to this it may be said that it is by no means wonderful if Parmenides in his poems appears to assert nothing concerning the one: for it is ineffable, and he in his poems generates all beings from the first being; but he might indicate something concerning it, so far as this can be effected by discourse, in his unwritten conversations with Zeno. Very properly, therefore, does he call this business concerning the one his own hypothesis. Proclus adds—if, however, it be requisite to speak more truly, we may say, with our preceptor Syrianus, that Parmenides begins indeed from one being; (for the hypothesis, if the one is, having the is together with the one, belongs to this order of things); but that he recurs from one being to the one, clearly showing that the one, properly so called, wills this alone, to be the one, and hastily withdraws itself from being. He also shows that one being is the second from this, proceeding to being through subjection, but that the one itself is better than the is, and that if it is, together with the is, it no longer remains that which is properly the one. Hence, it is true that Parmenides makes true being, or the one being, the subject of his hypothesis, and also, that through this hypothesis he ascends to the one itself, which Plato in the Republic denominates unhypothetic: for it is necessary, says he, always to proceed through hypotheses, that ascending, we may at length end in the unhypothetic one; since every hypothesis is from a certain other principle. But if any one should make the hypothesis the principle, we may say to such a one, with Plato, that where the principle is unknown, and the end and middle also consist from things that are unknown, it is not possible that a thing of this kind can be science. The one alone, therefore, is the principle, and is unhypothetic; so that what is made the subject of hypothesis is something else, and not the one. But Plato ascends from this to the one, as from hypothesis to that which is unhypothetic. Whence also it appears that the manner in which Parmenides manages the discourse is admirable. For, if he had assumed the unhypothetic as an hypothesis, and that which is without a principle as from a principle, he would not have followed the method which says it is entirely necessary to consider what is consequent to the hypothesis. Or, if he had not assumed the one as an hypothesis, but some one of the things more remote from the one, he could not easily have made a transition to it, nor would he have unfolded to us spontaneously and without violence the cause prior to being. That the one, therefore, might remain unhypothetic, and that at the same time he might recur from a certain proper hypothesis to the one, he makes the one being the subject of his hypothesis, which proximately subsists after the one, and in which, perhaps, that which is properly the one primarily subsists, as we shall show at the end of the first hypothesis of this dialogue. And thus he says that he begins from his own hypothesis, which is the one being, and this is, “if the one is,” and transferring himself to the unhypothetic, which is near to this, he unfolds the subsistence of all beings from the unity which is exempt from all things. Whence, saying that he shall make his own one the subject of hypothesis, in evincing what things follow, and what do not follow, at one time as using the one alone, he demonstrates the is, employing affirmations; but at another time he assumes, together with the one, the conception of the is. But he every where reasons as looking to the one, either unparticipated, or participated, that he may show that all things are through the one, and that separate from the one, they and their very being are obliterated.
[60] In the Introduction to this Dialogue we have spoken concerning the number, and unfolded the meaning of the hypothesis about the one; let us, therefore, with Proclus, discuss a few particulars respecting principle, that we may more accurately understand the nature of the one. The principle, therefore, of all beings and non-beings is called the one, since to be united is good to all things, and is the greatest of goods; but that which is entirely separated from the one is evil, and the greatest of evils. For division becomes the cause of dissimilitude, and a privation of sympathy, and of a departure from a subsistence according to nature. Hence the principle of wholes, as supplying all things with the greatest of goods, is the source of union to all things, and is on this account called the one. Hence, too, we say that every principle, so far as it is allotted this dignity in beings, is a certain enad or unity, and that what is most united in every order ranks as first, placing this principle not in parts, but in wholes, and not in some one of the many, but in the monads connective of multitude; and, in the next place, especially surveying it in the summits, and that which is most united in monads, and according to which they are conjoined with the one, are deified, and subsist without proceeding, in the one principle of all things. Thus, for instance, (that we may illustrate this doctrine by an example,) we perceive many causes of light, some of which are celestial, and others sublunary; for light proceeds to our terrestrial abode from material fire, from the moon, and from the other stars, and this, so as to be different according to the difference of its cause. But if we explore the one monad of all mundane light, from which other lucid natures and sources of light derive their subsistence, we shall find that it is no other than the apparent orb of the sun; for this orbicular body proceeds, as it is said, from an occult and supermundane order, and disseminates in all mundane natures a light commensurate with each. Shall we say then that this apparent body is the principle of light? But this is endued with interval, and is divisible, and light proceeds from the different parts which it contains; but we are at present investigating the one principle of light. Shall we say, therefore, that the ruling soul of this body generates mundane light? This indeed, produces light, but not primarily, for it is itself multitude: and light contains a representation of a simple and uniform subsistence. May not intellect, therefore, which is the cause of soul, be the fountain of this light? Intellect, indeed, is more united than soul, but is not that which is properly and primarily the principle of light. It remains, therefore, that the one of this intellect, its summit, and as it were flower, must be the principle of mundane light: for this is properly the sun which reigns over the visible place, and, according to Plato in the Republic, is the offspring of the good; since every unity proceeds from thence, and every deity is the progeny of the unity of unities, and the fountain of the Gods. And as the good is the principle of light to intelligibles, in like manner the unity of the solar order is the principle of light to all visible natures, and is analogous to the good, in which it is occultly established, and from which it never departs. But this unity having an order prior to the solar intellect, there is also in intellect, so far as intellect, an unity participated from this unity, which is emitted into it like a seed, and through which intellect is united with the unity or deity of the sun. This, too, is the case with the soul of the sun; for this through the one which she contains, is elevated through the one of intellect as a medium, to the deity of the sun. In like manner, with respect to the body of the sun, we must understand that there is in this a certain echo as it were, of the primary solar one. For it is necessary that the solar body should participate of things superior to itself; of soul according to the life which is disseminated in it; of intellect according to its form; and of unity according to its one, since soul participates both of intellect and this one, and participations are different from the things which are participated. You may say, therefore, that the proximate cause of the solar light is this unity of the solar orb. Again, if we should investigate the root as it were of all bodies, from which celestial and sublunary bodies, wholes and parts, blossom into existence, we may not improperly say that this is Nature, which is the principle of motion and rest to all bodies, and which is establshed in them, whether they are in motion or at rest. But I mean by Nature, the one life of the world, which being subordinate to intellect and soul, participates through these of generation. And this indeed is more a principle than many and partial natures, but is not that which is properly the principle of bodies; for this contains a multitude of powers, and through such as are different, governs different parts of the universe: but we are now investigating the one and common principle of all bodies, and not many and distributed principles. If, therefore, we wish to discover this one principle, we must raise ourselves to that which is most united in Nature, to its flower, and that through which it is a deity, by which it is suspended from its proper fountain, connects, unites, and causes the universe to have a sympathetic consent with itself. This one, therefore, is the principle of all generation, and is that which reigns over the many powers of Nature, over partial natures, and universally over every thing subject to the dominion of Nature. In the third place, if we investigate the principle of knowledge, we shall find that it is neither phantasy nor sense; for nothing impartible, immaterial, and unfigured is known by these. But neither must we say that doxastic or dianoëtic knowledge is the principle of knowledge; for opinion does not know the causes of things, and the dianoëtic power, though it knows causes, yet apprehends the objects of its perception partially, and does not view the whole at once, nor possess an energy collective and simple, and which eternally subsists according to the same. Nor yet is intellect the principle of knowledge: for all the knowledge which it contains subsists indeed, at once, and is intransitive and impartible. But if the knowledge of intellect was entirely without multiplication, and profoundly one, perhaps we might admit that it is the principle of knowledge. Since however, it is not only one but various, and contains a multitude of intellections; for as the objects of intellect are separated from each other, so also intellectual conceptions,— this being the case, intellect is not the principle of knowledge, but this must be ascribed to the one of intellect, which is generative of all the knowledge it contains, and of all that is beheld in the secondary orders of beings. For this being exempt from the many, is the principle of knowledge to them, not being of such a nature as the sameness of intellect; since this is coordinate to difference, and is subordinate to essence. But the one transcends and is connective of an intellectual essence. Through this one intellect is a God, but not through sameness, nor through essence: for in short intellect so far as intellect is not a God; since otherwise a partial intellect would be a God. And the peculiarity of intellect is to understand and contemplate beings, and to judge; but of a God to confer unity, to generate, to energize providentially, and every thing of this kind. Intellect, therefore, by that part of itself which is not intellect is a God, and by that part of itself which is not a God, it is a divine intellect. And this unity of intellect knows itself indeed, so far as it is intellectual, but becomes intoxicated as it is said with nectar, and generates the whole of knowledge, so far as it is the flower of intellect, and a superessential one. Again, therefore, investigating the principle of knowledge, we have ascended to the one; and not in these only, but in every thing else in a similar manner, we shall find monads the leaders of their proper numbers, but the unities of monads subsisting as the most proper principles of things. For every where the one is a principle, and you may say concerning this principle, what Socrates says in the Phædrus, viz. “a principle is unbegotten.” For if no one of total forms can ever fail, by a much greater necessity the one principle of each must be preserved, and perpetually remain, that about this every multitude may subsist, which originates in an appropriate manner from each. It is the same thing, therefore, to say unity and principle, if principle is every where that which is most characterized by unity. Hence he who discourses about every one, will discourse about principles. The Pythagoreans, therefore, thought proper to call every incorporeal essence one; but a corporeal and in short partible essence, they denominated other. So that by considering the one, you will not deviate from the theory of incorporeal essences, and unities which rank as principles. For all the unities subsist in, and are profoundly united with each other; and their union is far greater than the communion and sameness which subsist in beings. For in these there is indeed a mutual mixture of forms, similitude and friendship, and a participation of each other; but the union of the Gods, as being a union of unities, is much more uniform, ineffable and transcendent: for here all are in all, which does not take place in forms or ideas⁶¹; and their unmingled purity and the characteristic of each, in a manner far surpassing the diversity in ideas, preserve their natures unconfused, and distinguish their peculiar powers. Hence some of them are more universal, and others more partial; some of them are characterized according to permanency, others according to progression, and others according to conversion. Some again, are generative, others anagogic, or endued with a power of leading things back to their causes, and others demiurgic; and, in short, there are different characteristics of different Gods, viz. the connective, perfective, demiurgic, assimilative, and such others as are celebrated posterior to these, so that all are in all, and yet each is at the same time separate and distinct. Indeed, Proclus adds, we obtain a knowledge of their union and characteristics from the natures by which they are participated: for, with respect to the apparent Gods, we say that there is one soul of the sun, and another of the earth, directing our attention to the apparent bodies of these divinities, which possess much variety in their essence, powers, and dignity among wholes. As, therefore, we apprehend the difference of incorporeal essences from sensible inspection, in like manner, from the variety of incorporeal essences, we are enabled to know something of the unmingled separation of the first and superessential unities, and of the characteristics of each; for each unity has a multitude suspended from its nature, which is either intelligible alone, or at the same time intelligible and intellectual, or intellectual alone; and this last is either parcipated or not participated, and this again is either supermundane or mundane: and thus far does the progression of the unities extend. Surveying, therefore, the extent of every incorporeal hypostasis which is distributed under them, and the mutation proceeding according to measure from the occult to that which is separated, we believe that there is also in the unities themselves idiom and order, together with union: for, from the difference of the participants, we know the separation which subsists in the things participated; since they would not possess such a difference with respect to each other if they participated the same thing without any variation. And thus much concerning the subsistence of the first unities, and their communion with, and separation from, each other, the latter of which was called by the antient philosophers, idiom, and the former, union, contradistinguishing them by names derived from the sameness and difference which subsist in essences. For these unities are superessential, and, as some one says, are flowers and summits. However, as they contain, as we have observed, both union and separation, Parmenides, discussing this, that he may supernally unfold all their progression from the exempt unity, the cause of all things, assumes as an hypothesis his own one. But this is the one which is beheld in beings, and this is beheld in one respect as the one, and in another as participated by being. He also preserves that which has a leading dignity, surveying it multifariously, but varies that which is consequent, that through the sameness of that which leads, he may indicate the union of the divine unities: for whichever of these you receive, you will receive the same with the rest; because all are in each other, and are rooted in the one. For as trees by their summits are rooted in the earth, and are earthly according to these, after the same manner, divine natures are by their summits rooted in the one, and each of them is an enad and one, through unconfused union with the one. But through the mutation of that which is consequent, Parmenides at one time assumes whole, at another time figure, and at another something else, and these either affirmatively or negatively, according to the separation and idiom of each of the divine orders. And, through that which is conjoined from enad and what is consequent, he indicates the communion, and at the same time unmingled purity of each of the divine natures. Hence, one thing is the leader, but many the things consequent, and many are the things conjoined, and many the hypotheses. Parmenides, also, through the hypothesis of the one being, at one time recurs to the one which is prior to the participated unities, at another time discusses the extent of the unities which are in beings, and at another time discovers that subsistence of them which is subordinate to being. Nor must we wonder that there should be this union, and at the same time separation, in the divine unities. For thus also we are accustomed to call the whole of an intellectual essence impartible and one, and all intellects one, and one all, through sameness which is collective and connective of every intellectual hypostasis. But if we thus speak concerning these, what ought we to think of the unities in beings? Must it not be that they are transcendently united? that their commixture cannot be surpassed? that they do not proceed from the ineffable adytum of the one? and that they all possess the form of the one? Every where, therefore, things first possess the form of their cause. Thus, the first of bodies is most vital, and is similar to soul; the first of souls has the form of intellect; and the first intellect is a God. So that the first of numbers is uniform and enadic, or characterized by unity, and is superessential as the one. Hence, if they are unities and number, there is there both multitude and union. Again, the scope of this first hypothesis, as we have observed in the Introduction, is concerning the first God alone, so far as he is generative of the multitude of Gods, being himself exempt from this multitude, and uncoordinated with his offspring. Hence, all things are denied of this one, as being established above, and exempt from, all things, and as scattering all the idioms of the Gods, at the same time that he is uncircumscribed by all things. For he is not a certain one, but simply one, and is neither intelligible nor intellectual, but the source of the subsistence of both the intelligible and intellectual unities. For it is requisite in every order which ranks as a principle that imparticipable and primary form should be the leader of participated multitude. Thus, immaterial are prior to material forms. Thus, too, a separate life, unmingled, and subsisting from itself, is prior to the life which subsists in another; for every where things subsisting in themselves precede those which give themselves up to something else. Hence, imparticipable soul, which revolves in the supercelestial place, is the leader, according to essence, of the multitude of souls, and of those which are distributed in bodies. And one, imparticipable intellect, separate, eternally established in itself, and supernally connecting every intellectual essence, precedes the multitude of intellects. The first intelligible also, unmingled, and uniformly established in itself, is expanded above the multitude of intelligibles. For the intelligible which is in every intellect is different from that which is established in itself; and the latter is intelligible alone, but the former is intelligible as in intellectuals. The imparticipable one, therefore, is beyond the many and participated unities, and is exempt, as we have before said, from all the divine orders. Such, then, is the scope of the first hypothesis, viz. to recur from the one being, or in other words, the first and highest being, to that which is truly the one, and to survey how he is exempt from wholes, and how he is connumerated with none of the divine orders. In the next place, let us consider what mode of discourse is adapted to such a theory, and how the interpretation of what is before us may be properly undertaken. It appears, then, that this can only be effected by energizing logically, intellectually, and at the same time divinely, that we may be able to apprehend the demonstrative power of Parmenides, may follow his intuitive perceptions which adhere to true beings, and may in a divinely inspired manner recur to the ineffable and uncircumscribed cosensation of the one. For we contain the images of first causes, and participate of total soul, the intellectual extent, and of divine unity. It is requisite, therefore, that we should excite the powers of these which we contain, to the apprehension of the things proposed. Or how can we become near to the one, unless by exciting the one of our soul, which is as it were an image of the ineffable one? And how can we cause this one and flower of the soul to diffuse its light, unless we first energize according to intellect? For intellectual energy leads the soul to the tranquil energy according to the one which we contain. And how can we perfectly obtain intellectual energy, unless we proceed through logical conceptions, and prior to more simple intellections, employ such as are more composite? Demonstrative power, therefore, is requisite in the assumptions; but intellectual energy in the investigations of beings; (for the orders of being are denied of the one) and a divinely-inspired impulse in the cosensation of that which is exempt from all beings, that we may not unconsciously, through an indefinite phantasy, be led from negations to non-being, and its dark immensity. Let us, therefore, by exciting the one which we contain, and through this, causing the soul to revive, conjoin ourselves with the one itself, and establish ourselves in it as in a port, standing above every thing intelligible in our nature, and dismissing every other energy, that we may associate with it alone, and may, as it were, dance round it, abandoning those intellections of the soul which are employed about secondary concerns. The mode of discourse, then, must be of this kind, viz. logical, intellectual, and entheastic: for thus only can the proposed hypothesis be apprehended in a becoming manner. In the third place, let us consider what the negations are, and whether they are better or worse than affirmations: for affirmation appears to all men to be more venerable than negation; negation, say they, being a privation, but affirmation the presence and a certain habit of form. To forms, indeed, and to things invested with form, affirmation is better than negation; for it is necessary that their own habit should be present with forms, and that privation should be absent, and, in short, to be is more accommodated to beings than not to be, and affirmation than negation: for being is the paradigm of affirmation, but non-being of negation. But it is not immanifest how Plato in the Sophista says that non-being, by which he means difference, is related to being, and that it is not less than being. Since, however, non-being is multifarious, one kind subsisting as more excellent than, another as coordinated with, and a third as a privation of, being, it is evident that we may also speculate three species of negations; one above affirmation, another inferior to affirmation, and a third in a certain respect equal to it. Affirmation, therefore, is not always uniformly more excellent than negation, since, when negation speaks of that non-being which is above being, affirmation is allotted the second order. But since this non-being is also twofold, one kind being participated by being, viz. the divine unities, the immediate progeny of the one, and the other, viz. the ineffable principle of things, not being connumerated with any being, it is evident that to this latter affirmation is not by any means adapted, and that to the former negation more properly belongs than affirmation; though in a certain respect affirmation is adapted to this so far as it communicates with being. However, though nothing can be truly said of that non-being which is uncoordinated with being, yet negation may be more properly asserted of it than affirmation; for, as affirmations belong to beings, so negations to non-being. In short, affirmation wishes to be conversant with a certain form; and when the soul says that one thing is present to another, and makes an affirmation, it adduces some of the kindred natures which it contains. But the first cause of all is above form, and it is not proper to introduce to it any thing belonging to secondary natures, nor transfer to it things adapted to us: for we shall thus deceive ourselves, and not assert what the first is. We cannot, therefore, in a becoming manner employ affirmations in speaking of this cause, but rather negations of secondary natures; for affirmations hasten to know something of one thing as present with another. But that which is first is unknown by the knowledge which is connate with beings, and nothing can be admitted as belonging to, or present with, it, but rather as not present: for it is exempt from all composition and participation. To which we may add, that affirmations manifest something definite; for non-man is more infinite than man. The incomprehensible and uncircumscribed nature of the one is therefore more adapted to be manifested through negations: for affirmations may be said to vanquish beings, but negations possess a power of expanding from things circumscribed to the uncircumscribed, and from things distributed in proper boundaries to the indefinite. Can it, therefore, be said that negations are not more adapted to the contemplation of the one? For its ineffable, incomprehensible, and unknown nature can alone through these be declared, if it be lawful so to speak, to partial intellectual conceptions such as ours. Negations, therefore, are better than affirmations, and are adapted to such as are ascending from the partial to the total, from the coordinated to the uncoordinated, and from the circumscribed and vanquished form of knowledge to the uncircumscribed, single, and simple form of energy. In the fourth place, let us consider how, and after what manner, negations are adapted to the first cause. They must not then be adapted as in things capable of receiving negation, but yet which do not receive it, as if we should say that Socrates is not white: for, in short, the one does not receive any thing, but is exempt from every being, and all participation. Nor, again, must negation be adapted to the one, as in that which in no respect receives negation, which possesses a privation of it, and is unmingled with form; as if any one should say that a line is not white, because it is without any participation of whiteness. For that which is first is not simply divulsed from its negations; nor are these entirely void of communion with the one, but they are thence produced: nor can it be said that, as whiteness neither generates a line, nor is generated by it, so things posterior to the one neither generate the one, nor are generated by it; for they thence derive their subsistence. Nor yet must negation be applied according to that middle mode, in which we say, that things do not receive indeed, but are the causes to others in which they are inherent, of receiving affirmation; as, for instance, motion is not moved, but that which is in motion. Negation, therefore, is predicated of it, viz. the not being moved, though other things are moved through it. And, in short, every passion is itself impassive; since, being simple, it either is or is not. But that which suffers, or the passive subject, is through passion a composite. Negations, therefore, are not after this manner denied of the one; for neither is the one ingenerated in any thing, but is the cause of all the affirmations, the negations of which we introduce to it; but it is by no means ingenerated in those things of which it is the cause. It may be concluded, therefore, that as the one is the cause of wholes, so negations are the causes of affirmations; whence such things as the second hypothesis affirms, the first denies. For all those affirmations proceed from these negations; and the one is the cause of all things, as being prior to all things: for, as soul, being incorporeal, produces body, and as intellect, by not being soul, gives subsistence to soul, so the one, being void of multitude, gives subsistence to all multitude, and, being without number and figure, produces number and figure; and in a similar manner with respect to other things: for it is no one of the natures which it produces; since neither is any other cause the same with its progeny. But if it is no one of the natures to which it gives subsistence, and at the same time gives subsistence to all things, it is no one of all things. If, therefore, we know all things affirmatively, we manifest the one negatively, by denying every thing of it; and so this form of negation is generative of the multitude of affirmations. Thus, the unfigured, when applied to the one, is not like that of matter, which is beheld according to a privation of figure, but it is that which generates and produces the order which subsists according to figure. With respect to matter, therefore, negations are worse than affirmations, because they are privations, but affirmations are participations of which matter is essentially deprived. But, with respect to beings, negations are conjoined with affirmations: and when applied to the one, they signify transcendency of cause, and are better than affirmations. Hence, negations of things subordinate are verified in causes posterior to the one. Thus, when we say that the soul neither speaks nor is silent, we do not assert these things respecting it as of stones and pieces of wood, or any other insensible thing, but as of that which is generative in an animal of both voice and silence. And again, we say that nature is neither white nor black, but uncoloured, and without interval. But is she without these in the same manner as matter? By no means: for she is better than the things denied. But she is uncoloured, and without interval, as generative of all-various colours and intervals. In the same manner, therefore, we say that the monad is without number, not as being subordinate to numbers and indefinite, but as generating and bounding numbers. I mean the first monad, and that which we say contains all the forms of numbers. All, therefore, that is denied of the one, proceeds from it: for it is necessary that it should be none of all things, that all things may be its offspring. Hence, it appears that Plato often denies of the one things which are opposite to each other, such as that it is neither whole nor part, neither same nor different, neither permanent nor in motion: for it is expanded above all habitude, and is pure from every duad, being the cause of all the multitude of these, of twofold coordinations, of the first duad, and of all habitude and opposition. For nature is the cause of all corporeal oppositions; the soul of all vital causes, and intellect of the genera pertaining to soul. But the one is simply the cause of all divisions: for it cannot be said that it is the cause of some, and not the cause of others. The cause, however, of all opposition is not itself opposed to any thing: for, if it were, it would be requisite that there should be some other cause of this opposition, and the one would no longer be the cause of all things. Hence, negations are generative of affirmations: those which are assumed in the first hypothesis of those which are investigated in the second: for whatever the first cause generates in the first hypothesis is generated and proceeds in its proper order in the second. And thus the order of the Gods subsisting from exempt unity is demonstrated. But here, perhaps, some one may ask us whether we use negations through the imbecility of human nature, which is not able firmly to apprehend the simplicity of the one, through a certain projection of intellect, and adhesive vision and knowledge? or whether natures better than our soul know the one negatively in an analogous manner? We reply, therefore, that intellect by its perceptions which are conjoined with forms, knows forms, and comprehends intelligibles, and this is a certain affirmative knowledge: for that which is, approaches to that which is, and intellect is that which it understands through the intellectual perception of itself. But, by an unity above intellect, it is conjoined with the one, and through this union knows the one, by not being that which is being. Hence, it knows the one negatively: for it possesses a twofold knowledge, one kind as intellect, the other as not intellect; one as knowing itself, the other becoming inebriated, as some one says, and agitated with divine fury from nectar; and one so far as it is, but the other so far as it is not, Much-celebrated intellect itself, therefore, possesses both a negative and affirmative knowledge of the one. But if intellect, divine souls also, according to their summits and unities, energize enthusiastically about the one, and are especially divine souls on account of this energy; but, according to their intellec- tual powers, they are suspended from intellect, round which they harmonically dance. According to their rational powers they know themselves, preserve their own essence with purity, and evolve the productive principles which they contain; but, according to those powers which are characterized by opinion, they comprehend and govern in a becoming manner all sensible natures. And all the other kinds of knowledge which they possess are indeed affirmative: for they know beings as they are; and this is the peculiarity of affirmation. But the enthusiastic energy about the one is in these a negative knowledge: for they do not know that the one IS, but that he IS NOT, according to that which is better than the IS. The intellection, however, of that which is not, is negation. If, therefore, both divine souls and much celebrated intellect itself knew the one through negation, what occasion is there to despise the imbecility of our soul, earnestly endeavouring to manifest negatively its uncircumscribed nature? For nothing pertaining to the first is such as we are accustomed to know, i. e. a certain quality of a thing, as Plato says in his second Epistle. This, however, is the cause of every thing beautiful in the soul, viz. to investigate the characteristic of the first, to commit in a becoming manner the knowledge of him to the reasoning power, and to excite the one which we contain, that, if it be lawful so to speak, we may know the similar by the similar, so far as it is possible to be known by our order: for, as by opinion we know the objects of opinion, and by the dianoëtic power dianoëtic objects, and as by our intellectual part we know that which is intelligible, so by our one we know the one. Again, in the fifth place, let us consider whether Plato denies all things of the one, or, if not all, what those are which he denies, and why he proceeds as far as to these. But in the first place, it will, perhaps, be proper to enumerate all the particulars which in the first hypothesis are denied of the one. These then are in order as follow: that it is not many; that it is neither whole nor part; that it has neither a beginning, nor middle, nor end; that it has no boundary; that it is without figure; is neither in another nor in itself; is neither in motion nor at rest; is neither same nor different; is neither similar nor dissimilar; is neither equal, nor greater nor lesser; is neither older nor younger; that it participates in no respect of generation or time; that neither does it participate of being; that it cannot be named, and is not effable; and that it is neither the object of opinion nor science. These, then, are briefly what the first hypothesis denies of the one; but why these alone, we now propose to investigate: for Proclus informs us, that to some philosophers prior to him this was a subject of much doubt. Some, says he, were of opinion, that whatever the ten categories of Aristotle contain is enumerated in these negations. However, as he justly observes, not these alone, but many other things are contained under the ten categories, which are not mentioned by Parmenides. Others asserted, that these negations were comprehended in the five genera of being, viz. essence, sameness, and difference, motion and permanency. However, not these only are denied of the one, but likewise figure, the whole, time, number, and the similar, and the dissimilar, which are not genera of being. But those, says he, speak the most probably who wish to show that all these negations subsist in the monad. For the monad contains occultly many things, such as whole, and parts, and figures, and is both in itself and in another, so far as it is present to whatever proceeds from itself. It also is permanent and is moved, abiding and at the same time proceeding, and, in being multiplied, never departing from itself: and in a similar manner other things may be shown to belong to the monad. That these things indeed subsist in the monad may be readily granted, and also, that the monad is an imitation of intellect, so that by a much greater priority all these are causally comprehended in intellect. Hence, these things are denied of the one, because it is above intellect and every intellectual essence. For these things, says Proclus, Parmenides also surveying in his verses concerning true being, says, that it contains the sphere, and the whole, the same, and the different. For he celebrates true being as similar to a perfect sphere, every where equal from the middle, and rejoicing in revolving mansion. He also denominates it perfectly entire and unmoved. So that all these subsist primarily in intellect, but secondarily, and after the manner of an image, in the monad, and every thing sensible, physically in this, and mathematically in that. For intellect is an intelligible sphere, the monad a dianoëtic sphere, and this world a sensible sphere, bearing in itself the images of the perpetual Gods. However, the patrons of this opinion cannot assign the cause why the particulars which Parmenides denies are alone assumed, but by no means neither more nor less. For neither are these things alone in the monad, but many others also may be found, such as the even and the odd, and each of the forms subsisting under these. Why, therefore, these alone from among all are assumed, they assign no clear reason. Our preceptor, therefore, Syrianus, says Proclus, is the only one we are acquainted with who perfectly accords with Plato in the knowledge of divine concerns. He therefore perceived, that all such things⁶² as are affirmed in the second are denied of the one in the first hypothesis; and that each of these is a symbol of a certain divine order; such as the many, the whole, figure, the being in itself and in another, and each of the consequent negations. For all things are not similarly apparent in every order of being; but in one multitude, and in another a different idiom of divine natures is conspicuous. For, as we learn in the Sophista, the one being, or, in other words, the highest being, has the first rank, whole the second, and all the third. And in the Phædrus, after the intelligible Gods, an essence without colour, without figure, and without touch, is the first in order, colour is the second, and figure the third; and in other things, in a similar manner, an unfolding of different things takes place in a different order of being. If, therefore, all these things manifest the extent of the first being, but, according to Plato, the one is beyond all beings, with great propriety are these things alone denied of the one. How each of these is distributed in the divine orders, we shall know more accurately in the second hypothesis. It is apparent, therefore, what are the particulars which are denied of the one, and that so many alone are necessarily denied: for so many are the enumerated orders of true beings. Thus much, however, is now evident, that all the negations are assumed from the idiom of being, and not from the idiom of knowledge. For to will, and to desire, and every thing of this kind, are the peculiarities of vital beings; but to perceive intellectually, or dianoëtically, or sensibly, is the idiom of gnostic beings. But these negations are common to all beings whatever. For the hypothesis was, If the one is, so many things will follow as negations of the one, that at last it may be inferred if the one is, this one is not, as being better than the is: for it is the recipient of nothing, which is consequent to the is. And it appears that those alone are the things which belong to beings, so far as they are beings; which the second hypothesis affirms, and the first denies; and we shall not find things common to all beings, except these. But, of these, the higher are more total, but the others more partial. Hence, by taking away the higher, Plato also takes away those in a following order, according to the hypothesis. He has, therefore, in a wonderful manner discovered what are the things consequent to being, so far as being, as he was willing to show that the one is beyond all beings. But if any one should think that this hypothesis collects things impossible, he should call to mind what is written in the Sophista, in which the Eleatean guest examines the assertion of Parmenides concerning being, and clearly says that the one trully so called must necessarily be impartible, or without parts (αμερες γαρ δει το ὡς αληθως εν). So that, this being granted, all the conclusions of the first hypothesis must unavoidably follow, as in every respect true, and as alone according with that which is truly the one. For it is absurd to admit that true being has a subsistence, and not only true being, but also the truly equal, the truly beautiful, and every other form, but that the true one should no where subsist, but should be a name alone, though by this all beings are preserved and have a subsistence. But if it is, it is evident that it is not many: for it would not be the true one, if it were replete with any thing; since the many are not one. If, therefore, it is not many, again the whole of the first hypothesis will follow, this being assumed; and it is by no means proper to accuse it as asserting impossibilities. Again, in the sixth place, let us consider concerning the order of the negations: for, if they originate supernally and from things first, how does he first of all take away the many, and, in the last place, being, and even the one itself? The one, therefore, appears to us to be more venerable than multitude, and being itself as among beings is most venerable. But if they originate from things last, how, after the genera of being, does he assume the similar and dissimilar, the equal and unequal, the greater and the lesser? For these are subordinate to the genera of being. It is better, therefore, to say, that he begins supernally, and proceeds through negations as far as to the last of things. For thus also in the Phædrus, denying of the summit of the intellectual orders, things consequent to, and proceeding from it, he makes the ablation, beginning supernally; in the first place, asserting that it is without colour, in the next place, without figure, and, in the third place, without contact. For here colour symbolically signifies that middle order of the intelligible and at the same time intellectual Gods, which is called by theologists syn- ochike (συνοχικη) or connective; but figure indicates the extremity of that order, which is denominated telesiurgic, (τελεσιουργικη) or the source of perfection; and contact signifies the intellectual order. In like manner here also the negations begin supernally, and proceed together with the series of the divine orders, of all which the one is the generative source. But that at the end he should take away the one itself, and being, is by no means wonderful. For, if we follow the whole order of the discourse, this will become most apparent. For it is immediately evident, that in affirmative conclusions it is requisite to begin from things most allied, and through these to evince things less allied, which are consequent; but in negative conclusions it is necessary to begin from things most foreign, and through these to show things less foreign, which are not consequent to the hypothesis. For it is requisite, says Plato, that those who use this method should begin from things most known. Hence he first denies many of the one, and last of all the one that is, which is by position most allied to the one, but is participated by essence, and on this account is a certain one, and not simply one. Hence it is necessary, since the conclusions are negative, that the beginning of all the hypothesis should be not many, and the end not one. In the seventh place, let us consider what we are to understand by the many, which Plato first denies of the one. Some of the antients then, says Proclus, assert that multitude of every kind is here taken away from the one, because the one transcends all multitude, both intelligible and sensible. But these should recollect, that in the second hypothesis the many is affirmed. What sensible multitude then can we behold there? For all things are asserted of true beings, because the one is there equal to being. Others more venerable than these assert that intellectual multitude is denied of the one. For the first cause, say they, is one without multitude; intellect, one many; soul, one and many, through its divisible nature, being indigent of copula; body, many and one, as being a divisible nature characterized by multitude; and matter, many alone. This many, therefore, viz. intellectual multitude, Parmenides takes away from the first cause, that he may be one alone, and above intellect. It is proper, therefore, to ask these, what intellect they mean? For, if that which is properly intellect, and which is secondary to the intelligible, not only the one is beyond intellectual multitude, but the intelligible also, as being better than intellect. But if they call the whole of an intelligible essence intellect, as was the case with the followers of Plotinus, they are ignorant of the difference which subsists in the Gods, and of the generation of things proceeding according to measure. Other philosophers, therefore, more entheastic than these, dismissing sensible, and not even admitting intellectual multitude, say that prior to the intellectual numbers are the intelligible monads, from which every intellectual multitude and the many divided orders are unfolded into light. Plato, therefore, takes away from the one, the multitude which is intelligible, as subsisting proximately after the one, but he does not take away intellectual multitude. For it is by no means wonderful that the one should be exempt from intellectual multitude, above which the intelligible monads also are expanded. And hence the discourse, being divine, recurs to certain more simple causes. It is necessary however to understand that there are many orders in intelligibles, and that three triads are celebrated in them by theologists, as we shall show when we come to the second hypothesis. But, if this be admitted, it is evident that these many must be the first and intelligible multitude: for these so far as many alone subsist from the one; and from these the triadic supernally proceeds as far as to the last of things in the intellectual, supermundane, and sensible orders; and whatever is allotted a being participates of this triad. Hence, some of the antients, ascending as far as to this order, considered its summit as the same with the one. We must either, therefore, admit that the many which are now denied of the one subsist according to the intelligible multitude, or that they are the first multitude in the intelligible and at the same time intellectual orders. Indeed, the many unities are not in the intelligible Gods, but in those immediately posterior to them. For there is one unity in each intelligible triad; but the multitude of unities is first apparent in the first order of the intelligible and at the same time intellectual Gods. Thus much, therefore, must now be admitted, that Plato exempts the one from all the multitude of these unities, as being generative of and giving subsistence to it; and this he does, by assuming from our common conceptions that the one is not many. But at the end of the hypothesis, he takes away intelligible multitude itself from the one, conjoining the end with the beginning: for he there shows that the one is not being, according to which the intelligible order is characterized. It is likewise necessary to observe, that Plato does not think that the assertion, ‘the one is not many,’ requires demonstration, or any confirmation of its truth; but he assumes it according to common and unperverted conception. For, in speculations concerning the first cause of all things, it is especially necessary to excite common conceptions; since all things are spontaneously arranged after it, and without labour, both such as energize according to intellect, and those that energize according to nature only. And, in short, it is necessary that the indemonstrable should be the principle of all demonstration, and that common conceptions should be the leaders of demonstrations, as also geometricians assert. But there is nothing more known and clear to us than that the one is not many.
[61] For in these all are in each, but not all in all.
[62] Viz. Such things as are respectively characteristic of the divine orders.
[63] It is necessary, says Proclus, that the first negation of the one should be that it is not many; for the one is first generative of the many; since, as we have before observed, the first and the highest multitude proceeds from the one. But the second negation after this is, that the one is neither a whole, nor has any part: for it gives subsistence to this order, in the second place, after the first multitude. This will be evident from considering in the first place logically, that in negative conclusions, when through the ablation of that which precedes we collect a negative conclusion, that which precedes is more powerful; but that when through the ablation of that which is consequent we subvert that which precedes, that which is consequent; and, in short, that which by the subversion of itself takes away that which remains, whether it precedes or follows, is more powerful. Thus, if we say, If there is not being, there is not man; but also, If there is not animal, there is not man: animal, therefore, is more universal than man. Let this then be one of the things to be granted; but another which must be admitted is as follows:—Every thing which is more comprehensive than another according to power, is nearer to the one. For, since the one itself is, if it be lawful so to speak, the most comprehensive of all things, and there is nothing which it does not ineffably contain, not even though you should adduce privation itself, and the most evanescent of things, since, if it has any subsistence, it must necessarily be in a certain respect one;—this being the case, things also which are nearer to the one are more comprehensive than those which are more remote from it; imitating the uncircumscribed cause, and the infinite transcendency of the one. Thus being, as it is more comprehensive than life and intellect, is nearer to the one; and life is nearer to it than intellect. These two axioms being admitted, let us see how Parmenides syllogizes. If the one, says he, is a whole, or has parts, it is many; but it is not many, as was before said: neither, therefore, will it be a whole, nor will it have parts. And again, If the one is not many, it is neither a whole, nor has parts. In both these instances, by the subversion of the many, parts also and whole are subverted. But our position is, that whatever together with itself subverted that which remains in things conjoined, is more powerful and more comprehensive; but that which is more comprehensive is nearer to the one. Hence, many is nearer to the one than parts and whole. For parts are many, but many are not entirely parts. So that the many are more comprehensive than parts, and are therefore beyond them. The many, therefore, first subsist in beings; and in the second place, whole and parts. Hence, the one produces the first by itself alone, but the second through the many. For first natures, in proceeding from their causes, always produce, together with their causes, things consequent. Since, therefore, the negations generate the affirmations, it is evident that the first generates such of these as are first, but the second such as are second. We may also see the geometrical order which Plato here observes: for that the one is not many, is assumed as an axiom, and as a common conception; but that it is neither a whole, nor has parts, is collected through this common conception. And again, that the one has neither beginning nor end, is demonstrated through the prior conclusion; and thus always in succession according to the truly golden chain of beings, in which all things are indeed from the one, but some immediately, others through one medium, others through two, and others through many. After this manner, therefore, it may be logically demonstrated that these many are prior to whole and parts. If we wish, however, to see this in a manner more adapted to things themselves, we may say that the many, so far as many, have one cause, the one: for all multitude is not derived from any thing else than the one; since also, with respect to the multitude of beings, so far as they are intelligible, they are from being, but, so far as they are multitude, they subsist from the one. For, if multitude was derived from any other cause than the one, that cause again must necessarily either be one, or nothing, or not one. But if nothing, it could not be a cause. And if it was not one, not being one, it would in no respect differ from the many, and therefore would not be the cause of the many, since cause every where differs from its progeny. It remains, therefore, either that the many are without cause, and are uncoordinated with each other, and are infinitely infinite, having no one in them, or that the one is the cause of being to the many. For either each of the many is not one, nor that which subsists from all of them, and thus all things will be infinitely infinite; or each is indeed one, but that which consists from all is not one: and thus they will be uncoordinated with each other; for, being coordinated, they must necessarily participate of the one: or, on the contrary, that which consists from all is one, but each is not one, and thus each will be infinitely infinite, in consequence of participating no one: or, lastly, both that which consists from all and each must participate of the one, and in this case, prior to them, there must necessarily be that which is the source of union both to the whole and parts, and which is itself neither a whole, nor has parts; for, if it had, this again would be indigent of the one; and if we proceed to infinity, we shall always have the one prior to whole and parts. To this we may also add, that if there was another cause of the many besides the one, there would be no multitude of unities. If, therefore, there are many unities, the cause of this multitude so far as multitude is the one: for the primary cause of unities is the one, and on this account they are called unities. But the multitude of beings is from the multitude of unities; so that all multitude is from the one. But whole and parts belong to beings: for, though whole should be the one being, it is evident that, together with being, it is a whole, though it should be the participated one. This also entirely consubsists with being; and though it should be being alone, this is immediately essence. If, therefore, whole and part are beings, either essentially or according to participation, these also will indeed be produced from the one, but from essence also, if whole and part belong to beings. Hence, whole is a certain being. For all such things as participate of essential wholeness, these also participate of essence, but not all such things as participate of essence participate also of wholeness. Thus, for instance, parts, so far as they are parts, partake of essence, but so far as they are parts they do not participate of wholeness. But if this be the case, essence is beyond essential wholeness. And hence, the essential whole participates of essence, and is not the same with it. Thus, also, if there is any wholeness which is characterized by unity, it participates of the one: a part however characterized by unity must indeed necessarily participate of the one, but is not necessarily a whole; since indeed it is impossible it should be, so far as it is a part. Whole and part, therefore, are either essential or characterized by unity: for whole and part subsist both in essences and in unities. The one, therefore, is beyond whole and parts, both the essential, and those characterized by the one: and not this only, but the many also subsist prior to whole and parts. For each, as we have shown, is in a certain respect many; but the first many alone participate of the one. The many, therefore, are beyond whole and parts. And here it is necessary to observe, that in the first part of this first hypothesis Plato assumes such things as do not follow to the one considered with respect to itself. For we assert, that the one itself by itself is without multitude, and is not a whole, though there should be nothing else. But in the middle of the hypothesis such things are assumed as do not follow, neither to itself with respect to itself, nor to other things; such, for instance, as that it is neither the same with itself, nor different from itself, nor is the same with others, nor different from others: and after the same manner that it is neither similar nor dissimilar, &c. And at the end such things are assumed as do not follow to the one with respect to others alone; where it is also shown that it is neither effable, nor the object of opinion or science, nor is, in short, known by any other gnostic power, but is itself exempt from all other things, both knowledges and objects of knowledge. When, therefore, he says the one is not many, he does not say that things different from the one are not the one, as denying them of the one, but that it has not multitude in itself; and that the one is not also multitude together with the one, but that it is alone one, and one itself exempt from all multitude.
[64] The caution of Plato here, says Proclus, deserves to be remarked: for he does not say that the one is impartible, (αμερες), but that it has no parts (μερη μη εχον). For the im- partible is not the same with the non-possession of parts; since the latter may be asserted of the one, but the impartible not entirely. Thus the impartible sometimes signifies a certain nature, and, as it were, a certain form. Or rather, it is nothing else than a form characterized by unity; and in this sense it is used by Timæus when he is describing the generation of the soul. But in the Sophista he calls that which is truly one impartible: “for it is necessary (says he) that the truly one should be impartible.” So that he there calls the same thing impartible which he says here has no parts. Hence, if any thing has no parts, it is impartible, according to Plato; but it no longer follows, that what is impartible has no parts, if each of the genera of being is either impartible, or partible, or a medium between both. Thus, a point is impartible, not having parts, such as that which is endued with interval possesses: but it is not simply impartible, as having no part; for the definition of a point receives its completion from certain things. But all such things as complete, have the order of parts, with respect to that which is completed by them. Thus, also, the monad is impartible, because it is not composed from certain divided parts, as is every number which proceeds from it. Because, however, it consists of certain things which make it to be the monad, and to be different from a point, these may be said to be the parts of the definition of the monad. For such things as contribute to the definition of every form are entirely parts of it, and such form is a certain whole passive to the one, but is not the one itself. But the simply one alone neither subsists from parts as connecting, nor as dividing, nor as giving completion to it; being alone the one, and simply one, but not that which is united. Plato also indicates concerning these negations, that they are not privative, but that they are exempt from affirmations according to transcendency: “for it is necessary (says he) that it should not be many, but one.” By this word necessary, therefore, he indicates transcendency according to the good. As a proof of this, we do not add the word nec- essary to things deprived of any thing. For who would say it is necessary that the soul should be ignorant of itself? for ignorance is a privation to gnostic natures. Thus also, in the Theætetus, Plato speaking of evils says, “it is necessary that they should have a subsistence.” At the same time, also, by this word Plato indicates that he is discoursing about something which has a subsistence, and not about a non-subsisting thing. For who would say, about that which has no subsistence, that it is necessary it should be?
[65] Here again we may observe how Plato collects that the one neither possesses beginning, nor middle, nor end, from the conclusion prior to this, following demonstrative canons. For, if the one has no parts, it has no beginning, nor middle, nor end; but that which precedes is true, and consequently that also which follows. By taking away, therefore, that which precedes, he takes away that which is consequent. Hence, beginning, middle, and end, are symbols of a more partial order: for that which is more universal is more causal; but that which is more partial is more remote from the principle. Thus, with respect to that which has parts, it is not yet evident whether it has a beginning, middle, and end. For, what if it should be a whole consisting only of two parts? For the duad is a whole after a certain manner, and so as the principle of all partible natures; but that which has a beginning, middle, and end, is first in the triad. But if it should be said that every whole is triadic, in this case nothing hinders but that a thing which possesses parts may not yet be perfect, in consequence of subsisting prior to the perfect and the whole. Hence, Plato does not form his demonstration from whole, but from having parts. And here it is necessary to observe, with Proclus, that part is multifariously predicated. For we call that a part which is in a certain respect the same with the whole, and which possesses all such things partially as the whole possesses totally. Thus, each of the multitude of intellects is a part of total intellect, though all things are in every intellect. And the inerratic sphere is a part of the universe, though this also comprehends all things, but in a manner different from the world, viz. more partially. In the second place, that is said to be a part which is completive of any thing. Thus the total spheres of the planets and elements are said to be parts of the universe; and the dianoëtic and doxastic powers are said to be parts of the soul: for the former give completion to the universe, and the latter to the soul. In the third place, according to a common signification, we call a part every thing which is in any way coordinated with certain things to the consummation of one thing: for thus each of us may be said to be a part of the world: not that the universe receives its completion, as the universe, through us; for it would not become imperfect from the corruption of any one of us; but because we also are coarranged with the total parts of the universe, are governed in conjunction with all other things, are in the world as in one animal, and give completion to it, not so far as it is, but so far as it is prolific. Part, therefore, being triply predicated, Plato, having before said that the one has no part, evidently takes away from it all the conceptions of part. For whatever has parts has multitude; but the one has no multitude, and consequently has no parts whatever. But, if this be the case, it has no beginning, nor middle, nor end: for these may be said to be the parts of the things that possess them, according to the third signification of part, in which every thing coordinated with certain things is said to be a part of that which receives its completion through the coordination of those things.
[66] Plato might here have shown, as Proclus well observes, that the one is without beginning and end, from its not possessing extremes, and its not possessing extremes from its not possessing parts; but his reasoning proceeds through things more known. For, from its non-possession of parts, he immediately demonstrates that it is without beginning and end, transferring beginning and end to bound, which is the same with extreme. Infinite, therefore, in this place does not simply signify that which is negative of bound, but that which is subversive of extremes. As in the second hypothesis, therefore, he affirms the possession of extremes, he very properly in this hypothesis, where he denies it, demonstrates the one to be infinite, as not having extremes, which are accustomed to be called terms or limits. But in order to understand how the one is infinite, it will be necessary to consider, with Proclus, how many orders there are in beings of the infinite, and afterwards, how many progressions there are opposite to these of bound. Infinite, therefore, that we may begin downwards, is beheld in matter, because it is of itself indefinite and formless; but forms are the bounds of matter. It is also beheld in body devoid of quality, according to division ad infinitum: for this body is infinitely divisible, as being the first thing endued with interval. It is also beheld in the qualities which first subsist about this body, which is itself devoid of quality, in which qualities the more and the less are first inherent: for by these Socrates in the Philebus characterizes the infinite. It is also beheld in the whole of a generated nature, i. e. in every thing which is an object of sense: for this possesses the infinite according to perpetual generation, and its unceasing circle, and according to the indefinite mutations of generated natures, which are always rising into being and perishing, in which also infinity according to multitude exists, alone possessing its subsistence in becoming to be. But prior to these, the infinite is beheld in the circulation of the heavens: for this also has the infinite, through the infinite power of the mover; since body so far as body does not possess infinite power; but through the participation of intellect body is perpetual, and motion infinite. Prior also to these, the infinite must be assumed in soul: for in its transitive intellections it possesses the power of unceasing motion, and is always moved, conjoining the periods of its motions with each other, and causing its energy to be one and never-failing. Again, prior to soul, the infinite is seen in time, which measures every period of the soul. For time is wholly infinite, because its energy, through which it evolves the motions of souls, and through which it measures their periods, proceeding according to number, is infinite in power: for it never ceases abiding and proceeding, adhering to the one, and unfolding the number which measures the motions of wholes. Prior to time, also, we may survey the infinite in intellect, and intellectual life: for this is intransitive, and the whole of it is present eternally and collectively. That which is immovable, too, and never failing in intellect, is derived from an essence and power which never desert it, but which eternally possess a sleepless life; through which also every thing that is always moved, is able to be always moved, participating in motion of stable infinity. Nor does the infinite alone extend as far as to these: but prior to every intellect is much-celebrated eternity, which comprehends every intellectual infinity. For, whence does intellect derive its eternal life, except from eternity? This, therefore, is infinite according to power prior to intellect; or rather, other things are indeed infinite according to power, but eternity is primarily power itself. From this first fountain then of the infinite, it remains that we ascend to the occult cause of all infinites whatever, and, having ascended, that we behold all infinites subsisting according to the power which is there. For such is the infinite itself; and such is the chaos of Orpheus, which he says has no bound. For eternity, though it is infinite through the ever, yet, so far as it is the measure of things eternal, it is also a bound. But chaos is the first infinite, is alone infinite, and is the fountain of all infinity, intelligible, intellectual, that which belongs to soul, that which is corporeal, and that which is material. And such are the orders of the infinite, in which such as are second are always suspended from those prior to them. For material infinity is connected through the perpetuity of generation. The perpetuity of generation is never-failing, through the perpetual motion of æther; and the perpetual motion of æther is effected through the unceasing period of a divine soul; for of this it is an imitation. The period also of a divine soul is unfolded through the continued and never-failing power of time, which makes the same beginning and end, through the temporal instant or now. And time energizes infinitely, through intellectual infinity, which is perpetually permanent. For that which proceeds according to time, when it is infinite, is so through a cause perpetually abiding, about which it evolves itself, and round which it harmonically moves in a manner eternally the same. Intellect also lives to infinity through eternity. For the eternal is imparted to all things from eternity and being; whence all things derive life and being, some more clearly, and others more obscurely. And eternity is infinite, through the fountain of infinity, which supernally supplies the never-failing to all essences, powers, energies, periods, and generations. As far as to this, therefore, the order of infinites ascends, and from this descends. For the order of things beautiful is from the beautiful itself, that of equals from the first equality, and that of infinites from the infinite itself. And thus much concerning the orders of the infinite. Let us now consider supernally the series of bound which proceeds together with the infinite: for divinity produced these two causes, bound and infinity, together, or in other words, speaking Orphically, æther and chaos. For the infinite is chaos, as distributing all power, and all infinity, as comprehending other things, and as being as it were the most infinite of infinites. But bound is æther, because æther itself bounds and measures all things. The first bound, therefore, is bound itself, and is the fountain and basis of all bounds, intelligible, intellectual, supermundane, and mundane, presubsisting as the measure and limit of all things. The second is that which subsists according to eternity. For eternity, as we have before observed, is characterized both by infinity and bound; since, so far as it is the cause of never-failing life, and so far as it is the supplier of the ever, it is infinite; but so far as it is the measure of all intellectual energy, and the boundary of the life of intellect, terminating it supernally, it is bound. And, in short, it is itself, the first of the things mingled from bound and infinity. The third procession of bound is beheld in intellect. For, so far as it abides in sameness according to intellection, and possesses one life, eternal and the same, it is bounded and limited. For the immutable and the stable belong to a bounded nature; and, in short, as it is number, it is evident that in this respect it participates of bound. In the fourth place, therefore, time is bound, both as proceeding according to number, and as measuring the periods of souls. For every where that which measures, so far as it measures and limits other things, effects this through participating of the cause of bound. In the fifth place, the period of the soul, and its circulation, which is accomplished with invariable sameness, is the unapparent measure or evolution of all alter-motive natures. In the sixth place, the motion of æther, subsisting according to the same, and in the same, and about the same, bounds on all sides that which is disordered in material natures, and convolves them into one circle; and is itself bounded in itself. For the infinity of it consists in the again, (εν τῳ παλιν), but not in not reverting, (ου τῳ μη ανακαμπτειν): nor is the infinity of it such as that which subsists according to a right line, nor as deprived of bound. For the one period of æther is infinite by frequency (τῳ πολλακις εστιν απειρος). In the seventh place, the never-failing subsistence of material forms, the indestructibility of wholes, and all things being bounded, particulars by things common, and parts by wholes, evince the opposition in these of bound to the infinite. For, generated natures being infinitely changed, forms at the same time are bounded, and abide the same, neither becoming more nor less. In the eighth place, all quantity in things material may be called bound, in the same manner as, we before observed, quality is infinite. In the ninth place, the body without quality, which is the last of all things except matter, as a whole is bound: for it is not infinite in magnitude, but is as much extended in quantity as the universe. For it is necessary to call this body the whole subject of the universe. In the tenth place, the material form which detains matter, and circumscribes its infinity, and formless nature, is the progeny of bound, to which some alone looking, refer bound and the infinite to matter alone and form. And such and so many are the orders of bound. The infinite, therefore, which is here denied of the one, is the same as the not having a bound, in the same manner as the not having parts is the same with the impartible, when the impartible is asserted of the one. But if the one is neither from any other cause, and there is no final cause of it, it is very properly said to be infinite. For every thing is bounded by its cause, and from it obtains its proper end. Whether, therefore, there is any intelligible or intellectual bound, the one is beyond all the series of bound. But if the first God, in the Laws, is said to be the measure of all things, it is not wonderful: for there he is so denominated, as the object of desire to all things, and as limiting the being, power, and perfection of all things; but here he is shown to be infinite, as being indigent of no bound or part. For all things are denied of him in this place, as of himself with respect to himself. The one, therefore, is infinite, as above all bound. Hence this infinite must be considered as the same with the non-possession of extremes; and the possession of extremes is, therefore, denied of the one, through the infinite. For neither power must be ascribed to it, nor indefinite multitude, nor any thing else which is signified by the infinite.
[67] Parmenides first takes away many from the one; and this as from common conception: in the second place, he takes away whole, and the having parts; and this through the one not being many: in the third place, beginning, middle, and end; and this through not having parts. He also assumes as a consequent corollary, that the one is beyond bound, which is coordinated with parts, and which makes the possession of extremes. But bound is twofold: for it is either beginning or end. In the fourth place, therefore, he now takes away the straight and the round, which in the second hypothesis he arranges after the possession of extremes, and after the possession of beginning, middle, and end. But before he syllogistically demonstrates the fourth, he enunciates the conclusion; for he says, “without figure therefore.” For it is requisite that intellectual projections, or, in other words, the immediate and direct vision of intellect, should be the leader of scientific syllogisms; since intellect also comprehends the principles of science. The preassumption, therefore, of the conclusion imitates the collected vision of intellect; but the procession through syllogisms imitates the evolution of science from intellect. And here we may perceive also, that the conclusion is more common than the syllogisms: for the latter receive the straight and the round separately, and thus make the negation; but the former simply asserts that the one is without figure. But these are the forms common to all intervals. For lines are divided into the straight, the round, and the mixed; and, in a similar manner, superficies and solids; except that in lines the straight and the round are without figure; but in superficies or solids they are receptive of figure. Hence some of these are called right-lined, others curve-lined, and others mixed from these. As it has been shown, therefore, that the one is without bounds or extremities, it was necessary that Parmenides should deny of it the straight, and the possession of extremes. But that which is figured is a thing of this kind: for he assumes boundaries comprehensive of the things bounded, which alone belong to things figured. There is also another accuracy in the words, says Proclus, which is worthy of admiration. For he does not say that the one is neither straight nor round; since he has not yet collected that it is without figure. For what would hinder it from having some one of the middle figures, such as that of the cylinder or cone, or some other of those that are mixed? For, if we should give to the one some figure from those that are mixed, it would participate both of the straight and the round. Thus, for instance, if we should inquire whether nature is white or black, and should find that it is neither white nor black, it would not follow from this, that it is entirely void of colour: for, by the participation of both these, it would possess some one of the middle colours; since the media are from the extremes. Plato therefore says, that the one neither participates of the round nor the straight, that it may not have either of these, nor any one of the media. This also is evident, that this conclusion is more partial than that which is prior to it. For, if any thing participates of figure, it has also extremes and a middle; but not every thing which has extremes and a middle participates of figure. For a line, number, time and motion, may possess extremes, all which are without figure. A transition likewise is very properly made from figure to the straight and the round. For it is possible universally to deny figure of the one, by showing that figure has bound and limitation. But the one does not receive any bound. Plato however was willing to deduce his discourse supernally, according to two coordinations; and hence from the beginning he assumes after many, whole and parts, and again extremes and middle, straight and round, in itself and in another, abiding and being moved, &c. through this assumption indicating that the one is none of these. For it is not possible that it can be both opposites, since it would no longer remain one according to the hypothesis; nor can it be either of these, for thus it would have something hostile and opposed to itself. It is however necessary that the one should be prior to all opposition, or it will not be the cause of all things; since it will not be the cause of those things which its opposite produces. Proceeding, therefore, according to the two series of things, he very properly now passes from figure to the straight and the round. But since in the Phædrus Plato denominates the intelligible summit of intellectuals, which he there calls the supercelestial place, uncoloured, unfigured, and untouched, must we say that that order and the one are similarly unfigured? By no means: for neither is there the same mode of negation in both. For of that order Plato denies some things, and affirms others; For he says that it is essence and true essence, and that it can alone be seen by intellect, the governor of the soul; and likewise that the genus of true science subsists about it; because there is another, viz. the intelligible order prior to it, and it is exempt from some things, but participates of others. But he denies all things, and affirms nothing of the one: for there is nothing prior to the one, but it is similarly exempt from all beings. The mode, therefore, of ablation is different; and this, as Proclus well observes, Plato indicates by the very words themselves. For he calls the intelligible summit of intellectuals unfigured; but he says that the one participates of no figure. But the former of these is not the same with the latter, as neither is the impartible the same with that which has no part. After the same manner, therefore, he calls that essence unfigured, but asserts that the one participates of no figure. Hence it appears that the former, as producing, and as being more excellent than intellectual figure, is called un- figured. This, therefore, was subordinate to another figure, viz. the intelligible: for intelligible intellect comprehends the intelligible causes of figure and multitude, and all things; and there are figures perfectly unknown and ineffable, which are first unfolded into light from intelligibles, and which are only known to intelligible intellect. But the supercelestial place, being the summit in intelligibles, is the principle of all intellectual figures; and hence it is unfigured, but is not simply exempt from all figure. The one, however, is exempt from every order of these figures, both the occult and intellectual, and is established above all unknown and known figures.
[68] The straight and the round here are to be considered as signifying progression and conversion: for progression is beheld according to the straight, which also it makes the end of itself. Every intellectual nature, therefore, proceeds to all things according to the straight, and is converted to its own good, which is the middle in each; and this is no other than the intelligible which it contains. But things are separated from each other according to progression, the proceeding from the abiding, and the multiplied from the united. For progression is that which makes some things first, others middle, and others last; but conversion again conjoins all things, and leads them to one thing, the common object of desire to all beings. In these two, therefore, each of these definitions is to be found, of which the intellectual Gods first participate: for these are especially characterized by conversion. In the second place from these, souls participate of the straight and the round; proceeding, indeed, after the manner of a line, but being again inflected into circles, and converting themselves to their principles. But sensibles participate of these in the last place: for right-lined figures subsist in these with interval, and partibly, and the spheric form, which is comprehensive of all mundane figures. Hence, Timæus makes the whole world to be a sphere; but through the five figures, which are the only figures that have equal sides and angles, he adorns the five parts of the world, inscribing all these in the sphere, and in each other, by which he manifests that these figures are supernally derived from a certain elevated order. These two also may be perceived in generation: the round according to the circulation in things visible; for generation circularly returns to itself, as it is said in the Phædrus. But the straight is seen according to the progression of every thing, from its birth to its acme; and acme is here the middle darkening the extremes; for through this there is a transition to the other of the extremes, just as, in a right line, the passage from one extreme to the other is through the middle. These two, therefore, supernally pervade from intellectual as far as to generated natures; the straight being the cause of progression, but the round of conversion. If, therefore, the one neither proceeds from itself, nor is converted to itself—for that which proceeds is second to that which produces, and that which is converted is indigent of the desirable—it is evident that it neither participates of the straight, nor of the round figure. For how can it proceed, having no producing cause of itself, neither in nor prior to itself, lest it should be deprived of the one, being second, or having the form of the duad? How, also, can it be converted, having no end, and no object of desire? Here, likewise, it is again evident that Plato collects these conclusions from what precedes, viz. from the one neither possessing beginning, nor middle, nor end; always geometrically demonstrating things second through such as are prior to them, imitating the orderly progression of things, which ever makes its descent from primary to secondary natures.
[69] As the whole middle order of the Gods called intelligible, and at the same time intellectual, is symbolically signified in these words, Plato very properly in the conclusion converts the whole of it. For, if the one has figure, it will be many. He therefore conjoins figure to many through parts; but demonstrates that all these genera are secondary to the one. So great, however, says Proclus, is the separation of the divine orders, that Plato does not attempt to connect the negations that follow in a regular succession till he has first converted this order to itself; conjoining figure to many, and indicating the alliance of all the aforesaid genera. In what order of things, however, the straight and the round subsist, will be more clearly known in the second hypothesis.
[70] The discourse passes on to another order, viz. to the summit of those Gods that are properly called intellectual: and this he denies of the one, demonstrating that the one is no where; neither as comprehended in another cause, nor as itself comprehended in itself. Before he syllogizes, however, he again previously announces the conclusion, employing intellectual projections prior to scientific methods; and this he constantly does in all that follows. It is here, however, necessary to observe, that no where is predicated most properly and simply of the first cause. For the soul is frequently said to be no where, and particularly, the soul which has no habitude or alliance with body: for it is not detained by any secondary nature, nor is its energy circumscribed through a certain habitude, as if it were bound by such habitude to things posterior to itself. Intellect also is said to be no where: for it is in a similar manner every where, and is equally present to all things. Or rather, through a presence of this kind it is detained by no one of its participants. Divinity also is said to be no where, because he is exempt from all things, because he is imparticipable, or, in other words, is not consubsistent with any thing else; and because he is better than all communion, all habitude, and all coordination with other things. There is not, however, the same mode of the no where in all things. For soul indeed is no where with respect to the things posterior to itself, but is not simply no where; since it is in itself, as being self-motive, and likewise in the cause whence it originates. For every where the cause preassumes and uniformly comprehends the power of its effect. Intellect is also no where with respect to the things posterior to itself, but it is in itself, as being self-subsistent, and, further still, is comprehended in its proper cause. Hence, it is false to say that intellect is absolutely no where; for the one alone is simply no where. For it is neither in things posterior to itself, as being exempt from all things; (since neither intellect nor soul, principles posterior to the one, are in things posterior to themselves,) nor is it in itself, as being simple and void of all multitude; nor is it in any thing prior to itself, because there is nothing better than the one. This, therefore, is simply no where; but all other things have the no where secondarily, and are in one respect no where, and in another not. For, if we survey all the order of beings, we shall find material forms subsisting in others only, and established in certain subjects: for they verge to bodies, and are in a certain respect in a subject, bearing an echo, as it were, and image of a thing subsisting in itself, so far as they are certain lives and essences, and in consequence of one part suffering they are copassive with themselves. With respect to souls that subsist in habitude or alliance to body, these, so far as they have habitude, are in another: for habitude to secondary natures entirely introduces, together with itself, subsistence in another; but so far as they are able to be converted to themselves, they are purified from this, subsisting in themselves. For natures indeed extend all their energies about bodies, and whatever they make they make in something else. Souls employ, indeed, some energies about bodies; but others are directed to themselves, and through these they are converted to themselves. But souls that are without habitude to body are not in other things that are secondary or subordinate to them, but are in others that are prior to them. For a subsistence in another is twofold, one kind being subordinate to the subsistence of a thing in itself, and arising from a habitude to things secondary, but the other being better than such a subsistence; and the former extends as far as to souls that subsist in habitude to body; but the latter only originates from divine natures, and, in short, from such as subsist without habitude. Divine souls, therefore, are alone in the natures prior to them, as, for instance, in the intellects from which they are suspended; but intellect is both in itself, and in that which is prior to itself, viz. in the unity which it derives from the one, and which is the vertex and flower of its essence. This no where, therefore, is by no means subordinate to the subsistence of a thing in itself. For how can the no where which opposes a subsistence in some particular thing be adapted to things which have their being in another? But to those that have a subsistence in themselves better than a subsistence in another, the no where is present indeed, but not simply: for each of these is in its proper cause. But to the one alone the no where primarily and simply belongs. For the one is not in things posterior to itself, because it is without habitude or alliance; nor in itself, because it is the one; nor in any thing prior to itself, because it is the first. In the next place, let us consider the every where, and whether it is better and more perfect than the no where, or subordinate to it. For, if better, why do we not ascribe that which is better to the first, instead of saying that the one is alone no where? But, if it is subordinate, how is it not better not to energize providentially, than so to energize? May we not say, therefore, that the every where is twofold? one kind taking place, when it is considered with reference to things posterior to it, as when we say that providence is every where, that it is not absent from any secondary natures, but that it preserves, connects and adorns all things, pervading through them by its communications. But the other kind of every where subsists as with relation to all things prior and posterior to it. Hence that is properly every where which is in things subordinate, in itself, and in things prior to itself. And of this every where the no where which is now assumed is the negation, as being neither in itself, nor in any thing prior to itself. This no where also is better than the every where, and is alone the prerogative of the one. But there is another no where coordinate with the every where, and which is alone predicated with reference to things secondary, so that each is true in consequence of that which remains. For being is no where because it is every where. For that which is detained in some particular place, is in a certain thing; but that which is similarly present to all things is definitely no where: and again, because no where, on this account it is every where. For, in consequence of being similarly exempt from all things, it is similarly present to all things, being as it were equally distant from all things. Hence, this no where and this every where are coordinate with each other. But the other no where is better than every every where, and can alone be adapted to the one, as being a negation of every subsistence in any thing. For, whether the subsistence is as in place, or as in whole, or as the whole in its parts, or as in the end, or as things governed in the governing principle, or as genus in species, or as species in genera, or as in time, the one is similarly exempt from all these. For neither is it comprehended in place, lest it should appear to be multitude. Nor is it any comprehending whole, lest it should consist of parts. Nor is it a part of any thing, lest, being in the whole of which it is a part, it should be a passive one. For every whole which is passive to the one, is indigent of that which is truly one. Nor is it in parts: for it has no parts. Nor is there any end of it: for it has been shown that it has no end. Nor does it subsist as in the governing principle: for it has been shown that it has not any beginning. Nor is it as genus in species, lest again multitude should happen about it, through the comprehension of species; nor as species in genera; for, of what will it be the species, since nothing is more excellent than itself? Nor is it as in time: for thus it would be multitude; since every thing which is in time flows; and every thing that flows consists of parts. The one, therefore, is better than all the modes of a subsistence in any thing. Hence the negation of no where is true: for a subsistence in some particular thing is opposed to no where; just as some one is opposed to no one: so that the one will be no where. Again, too, Plato gives a twofold division to a subsistence in something; viz. into a subsistence in another, and into a subsistence in itself; comprehending in these two all the abovementioned celebrated modes which are enumerated by Aristotle in his Physics; that if he can show that the one is neither in itself, nor in another, he may be able to demonstrate that it is no where. But this being shown, it will appear that the one is exempt from that order to which the symbol of being in itself and in another pertains. It will also appear from hence that intellect is not the first cause: for the peculiarity of intellect is a subsistence in itself, in consequence of being converted to itself, at the same time that its energy is directed to such things as are first, viz. to intelligibles and the one.
[71] Let us here consider how according to Plato every thing which is in another, is after a manner circularly comprehended by that in which it is, and is touched by it in many places. Of those prior to us then, says Proclus, some have considered the subsistence of the one in something else, more partially, alone assuming a subsistence in place, and in a vessel, and to these adapting the words. For that which is in place in a certain respect touches place, and also that which is in a vessel touches the vessel, and is on all sides comprehended by it. This, therefore, say they, is what Plato demonstrates to us, that the one is not in place, since that which is in place must necessarily be many, and must be touched by it in many places; but it is impossible that the one should be many. There is however nothing venerable in the assertion that the one is not in place, since this is even true of partial souls like ours; but it is necessary that what is here shown should be the prerogative of the one, and of that cause which is established above all beings. But others looking to things say, that every thing which being in a certain thing is comprehended by it, is denied of the one: and their assertion is right. For the one is in no respect in any thing, as has been before shown. But how does this adapt the words to the various modes of a subsistence in something? For a point is evidently said to be in a line as in another; since a point is different from a line; and it does not follow, because it is in another, that on this account it is on all sides comprehended by the line, and is touched by many of its parts. It may indeed be said, in answer to this, that though the line does not circularly contain the point according to interval, yet it comprehends it after another manner: for it embraces its idioms. For a point is a boundary only; but a line is both a boundary and something else, being a length without a breadth. A point also is without interval; but a line possesses interval according to length, though not according to breadth and depth. For, in short, since a point is not the same with the one, it is necessary that the point should be many, not as containing parts after the manner of interval, for in this respect it is impartible, but as containing many idioms which have the relation of parts, and which the line comprehending, may be said to touch the point in many places. But that the point is not the same with the one is evident; for the latter is the principle of all things, but the former of magnitudes alone. Nor is the point prior to the one: for the monad is one, and the impartible in time, or the now. It remains, therefore, that the point is posterior to the one, and participates of it. But, if this be the case, it may possess many incorporeal idioms, which are in the line, and are comprehended by it. Those however who thus interpret the present passage do not perceive how Plato assumes a subsistence in a certain thing, and what he looks to among beings, when he denies this of the one. It is better, therefore, says Proclus, to say with our preceptor Syrianus, conformably to that most prudent and safe mode of interpretation, that Plato denies these things of the one, which in the second hypothesis he affirms of the one being, and that he so denies as he there affirms. In the second hypothesis, therefore, Plato indicating the summit of the intellectual order, says that the one is in itself and in another; which evidently applies to that order, because it is converted to itself intellectually, and abides eternally with a monadic subsistence in its causes. For it is the monad of the intellectual Gods; abiding indeed, according to its transcendency, in the intellectual Gods, prior to, but unfolding into light the intellectual idiom, according to an energy in and about, itself. The subsistence, therefore, in another is of such a kind as an abiding in cause, and being comprehended in its proper cause. This, therefore, is the circular comprehension, and the being touched in many places, of which Plato now speaks. For, as this order is contained in its cause, it is more partial than it. But every thing more partial is more multiplied than its more comprehensive cause; and, being more multiplied, it is conjoined with it by the various powers of itself, and differently with different powers. For this is what is implied by the words “in many places;” since according to different powers it is differently united to the intelligible prior to itself. To this order of beings, also, a subsistence in itself accords together with a subsistence in another. The multitude likewise of this order is numerous: for it participates of intelligible multitude, and has parts; since it participates of the middle genera in the causes prior to itself. It is also in a certain respect circular; for it participates of the extremity of the middle orders, viz. of the figure which is there. Hence, it is neither one simply, but many, nor impartible, but having parts, viz. incorporeal idioms; nor is it beyond all figure, but is circular. And so far as it is many, it is able to be touched in many things by the natures prior to itself; but so far as it has parts, it is able to communicate with them in many places, and in a remarkable degree; and so far as it is figured, it is circularly comprehended by them. For every thing figured is comprehended by figure. But the one neither has parts, nor participates of the circle; so that there cannot be a cause prior to it, which circularly touches it and in many places; but it is beyond all things, as having no cause better than itself.
[72] Let us here consider with Proclus how that which is in itself possesses both that which comprehends, and that which is comprehended; and what both these are. Every thing, therefore, which is the cause of itself, and is self-subsistent, is said to be in itself. For, as self-motive rank prior to alter-motive natures, so things self-subsistent are arranged prior to such as are produced by another. For, if there is that which perfects itself, there is also that which generates itself. But if there is that which is self-subsistent, it is evident that it is of such a kind as both to produce and be produced by itself. As, therefore, producing power always comprehends according to cause that which it produces, it is necessary that whatever produces itself should comprehend itself so far as it is a cause, and should be comprehended by itself so far as it is caused; but that it should be at once both cause and the thing caused, that which comprehends and that which is comprehended. If, therefore, a subsistence in another signifies the being produced by another more excellent cause, a subsistence in self must signify that which is self-begotten, and produced by itself.
[73] Let us consider how it is impossible for the same whole, at the same time, both to do and suffer: for this Plato assumes as a thing common and universally acknowledged. Will it not follow, therefore, if this be granted, that the self-motive nature of the soul will no longer remain? For, in things self-moved, that which moves is not one thing, and that which is moved another; but the whole is at the same time moving and moved. To this it may be replied as follows: Of the powers of the soul some are generative, and others conversive of the soul to herself. The generative powers, therefore, beginning from the soul produce its life; but the conversive convolve the soul to itself, according to a certain vital circle, and to the intellect which is established prior to soul. For, as the generative powers produce a twofold life, one kind abiding, but the other proceeding into body and subsisting in a subject, so the conversive powers make a twofold conversion, one of the soul to herself, the other to the intellect which is beyond her. Of these powers, therefore, the whole soul participates, because they proceed through each other, and energize together with each other; whence every rational soul is said to generate herself. For the whole participates through the whole of generative powers, and she converts as it were herself to herself; and neither is that which generates without conversion, nor is that which converts unprolific, but a participation through each other is effected. Hence both assertions are true, viz. that the soul generates herself, and that it is not possible for the whole of a thing at the same time both to do and suffer. For though that which produces and that which is produced are one thing, yet together with union there is also difference, through which a thing of this kind does not remain unmultiplied. For the whole soul is indeed produced, but not so far as it produces is it also according to this produced; since that which primarily produces is the generative power of the soul. Since however it is possible in some things for a certain part to generate, and a part to be generated, as in the world that which is celestial is said to generate and fabricate, and that which is sublunary to be generated; and again, not for a part, but the whole to be generated and generate in different times; and lastly, for the whole both to do and suffer in the same time, but to do one thing, and suffer another, and not the same: for what if a thing should impart heat, and at the same time receive cold, or should whiten and be at the same time blackened?—on this account, Plato taking away all such objections accurately adds the words, the whole, at the same time, the same thing, that it may not act in one part and suffer in another, nor at different times, nor do one thing and suffer another. Hence, since that which is self-subsistent is necessarily divisible into that which is more excellent, and that which is subordinate, for so far as it produces it is more excellent, but so far as it is produced subordinate, it follows that the one is beyond a self-subsistent nature: for the one does not admit of division, with which a self-subsistent nature is necessarily connected. Indeed the one is better than every paternal and generative cause, as being exempt from all power. For though according to Plato it is the cause of all beautiful things, yet it is not the cause in such a manner as if it employed power, through which it is productive of all things: for power subsists together with hyparxis or the summit of essence, to which it is at the same time subordinate. But of the natures posterior to the one, some being most near to, and ineffably and occultly unfolded into light from it, have a paternal and generative dignity with relation to all beings, and produce other things from themselves by their own powers. In this, therefore, they abound more than, and consequently fall short of the simplicity of, the one, that they generate self-subsistent natures: for additions in things divine are attended with diminution of power. Other natures, therefore, posterior to the one, being now separated and multiplied in themselves, are allotted the power of things self-subsistent; subsisting indeed from primary causes, but produced also from themselves. These, therefore, are suspended from the paternal and generative causes of forms, but paternal causes from the one, which is more excellent than every cause of this kind, and which in a manner unknown to all things unfolds beings from itself, according to the principles of things. Hence, if this be the case, it is evident that every thing which gives subsistence to itself is also productive of other things. For self-subsistent natures are neither the first nor the last of things. But that which produces other things without producing itself is twofold; one of these being better, and the other worse, than things self-subsistent. Such, therefore, are producing natures. But of things produced from a generating cause, self-subsistent natures first proceed, being produced indeed, but subsisting self-begotten from their proper causes. For they proceed from their cause in a way superior to a self-begetting energy. The next in order to these are the natures which are suspended from another producing cause, but which are incapable of generating and being generated from themselves. And this order of things has its progression supernally as far as to the last of things. For if, among generating natures, that which generates itself also generates other things, but that which generates other things does not necessarily generate itself, it follows that things generative of others are prior to such as generate themselves: for things more comprehensive rank more as principles.
[74] Plato very geometrically, in each of the theorems, first enunciates the proposition, afterwards gives the demonstration, and, in the last place, the conclusion; through the proposition imitating the collected and stable energy of intellect; through the demonstration, the progression of intellections evolving itself into multitude; and through the conclusion, the circular motion of intellect to its principle, and the one perfection of all intellectual energy. This, therefore, which he does in the preceding theorems, he particularly does in this. For it pertains to this order, both to subsist from itself, and to abide in the natures prior to itself. The logical discursus, therefore, imitates the subsistence of this order in itself, but the conclusion, and a returning to the principle, a subsistence in another.
[75] Parmenides here proceeds to another order, viz. the vivific, from the intellectual monad, and evinces that the one is exempt from this. The idioms, therefore, of this vivific order are motion and permanency; the former unfolding into light the fountains of life, and the latter firmly establishing this life exempt from its proper rivers. That it is not requisite, however, alone to take away physical motions from the one, Plato himself manifests, by saying, “the one therefore is immovable, according to every kind of motion.” But all energy, according to him, is motion. The one therefore is prior to energy. Hence also it is prior to power, lest it should possess power imperfect and unenergetic. Should it be asked why Plato places motion before sameness and difference? we reply, that motion and permanency are beheld in the essences and energies of things: for procession is essential motion, and permanency an essential establishment in causes; since every thing at the same time that it abides in, also proceeds from, its cause. Essential motion and permanency, therefore, are prior to sameness and difference: for things in proceeding from their causes become same and different; different by proceeding, but same by converting themselves to that which abides. Hence motion and permanency rank prior to sameness and difference, as originating prior to them. On this account, in the Sophista, Plato arranges motion and permanency after being, and next to these same and different.
[76] Plato, in the tenth book of his Laws, makes a perfect division of all motions into ten, eight of which are passive. The ninth of these is indeed energetic, but is both motive and moved, moving other things, and being moved by a cause prior to itself; and the tenth is energetic from itself, in that which is moved possessing also that which moves, being no other than a self-motive nature. It is however now requisite to make a more synoptical division, that we may not physiologize in discourses about divine natures. Hence Plato concisely distributes all motions into two. For that it is requisite not only to consider the proposed motions as corporeal, but likewise as comprehensive of all incorporeal motions, is evident from his saying, “for these are the only motions.” Both the motions of soul, therefore, and such as are intellectual, are comprehended in these two, viz. lation and alteration, or internal motion. It is also evident that every vivific genus of the Gods belongs to these motions, since all life is motion according to Plato, and every motion is comprehended in the two which are here mentioned. Let us therefore consider every thing which is moved; and first of all let us direct our attention to bodies, either as suffering some internal or some external change: for that which changes one place for another sustains a mutation of something belonging to things external; but that which is generating or corrupting, or increasing, or diminishing, or mingling, suffers a mutation of something inward. Hence that which is changed according to the external is said to be moved according to lation: for a motion of this kind is local, place being external to bodies. But that which is moved according to some one of the things within it is said to suffer internal change, whether it sustains generation, or corruption, or increase, or diminution, or mixture. Local motion, therefore, is present with divine bodies, such as those of the stars, but they have no mutation according to essence. For it is necessary, indeed, that these should be locally moved, because, as Plato says in the Politicus, always to subsist according to the same, and after the same manner, belongs to the most divine of things alone; but the nature of body is not of this order. The celestial bodies, however, being the first of things visible, possess a perpetual subsistence: for such things as are first in every order possess the form of natures prior to themselves. Hence these bodies are moved according to this motion alone, which preserves the essence of the things moved unchanged. But, ascending from bodies to souls, we may see that which is analogous in these to local motion, and that which corresponds to internal change. For, so far as at different times they apply themselves to different forms, and through contact with these become assimilated to their proper intelligibles, or the objects of their intellectual vision, they also appear in a certain respect to be multiform, participating by their energies of these intelligibles, which are always different, and being disposed together with them. So far, therefore, as this is effected, they may be said to be internally changed. But again, so far as they energize about the intelligible place, and pervade the whole extent of forms, being as it were external to them, and comprehending them on all sides, so far they may be said to be locally moved; Plato also in the Phædrus calling the energy of the soul about the intelligible place, a period and circulation. Souls, therefore, are both internally changed and locally moved; being internally changed according to that which is vital, for it is this which is disposed together with, and is assimilated to, the visions of the soul; but, according to that which is gnostic, passing on locally from one intelligible to another, revolving round these by its intellections, and being reflected from the same to the same. Or we should rather say, that souls comprehend in themselves the causes of internal change, and of mutation according to place. In much celebrated intellect, also, we shall find the paradigms subsisting intellectually of these two species of motion. For by participating the nature of the intelligible in intellection, and becoming through intelligence a certain intelligible itself, it is internally changed about the intellectual idiom. For participations are said to impart something of their own nature to their participant. But by intellectually perceiving in the same, according to the same things, and after the same manner, and by energizing about its own intelligible as about a centre, it previously comprehends the paradigm of local circulation. Every where, therefore, we shall find that motions are internal changes and lations, subsisting intellectually in intellect, psychically in soul, and corporeally and divisibly in sensibles; so that we ought not to wonder if these are the only motions; for all others are comprehended in these.
[77] Parmenides passes on to the other form of motion, viz. lation, and shows that neither is the one moved according to this. He also divides lation into motion about the same place, and into a mutation from one place to another. For every thing which is moved according to place, either preserves the same place, so that the whole remains intransitive, and the thing itself is only moved in its parts; or it is moved both in the whole and the parts, and passes from one place to another. For there are these four cases: a thing is neither moved in the whole, nor in the parts; or it is moved in the whole, and not in the parts; or it is moved in the parts, and not in the whole; or it is moved both in the whole and in the parts. But, of these four, it is impossible for the whole to be moved, the parts remaining immovable; since the parts from which the whole consists are moved together with the whole. To be moved neither in the whole nor in the parts belongs to things which stand still. It remains, therefore, either that the whole is not moved, the parts being moved, or that both the whole and the parts are moved. The former of these motions is produced by a sphere or cylinder, when these are moved about their axes; but the latter is effected by a transition from one place to another, when the whole changes its place. It is evident, therefore, from this division, that such are the necessary differences of motion. These two motions are not only apparent in sensibles, viz. the circular in the revolutions of the heavenly bodies, and a motion both according to whole and parts in the sublunary region, but they also subsist in the natures beyond those. For a partial soul, through its ascents and descents, and its transitive energy according to length, contains the paradigm of motions both according to the whole and parts; and intellect, through its intransitive revolution about the intelligible, causally contains the circular motion. And not only intellect, but also every divine soul, through its measured motion about intellect, receives an incorporeal circulation. Parmenides also, says Proclus, when he calls being a sphere, in his poems, and says that it perceives intellectually, evidently calls its intellection spheric motion. But Timæus, bending the progression of the soul according to length, into circles, and making one of these circles external and the other internal, confers both these eternally on the soul according to a demiurgic cause, and an intellectual period prior to that of bodies. Theologists also, Proclus adds, were well acquainted with incorporeal circulation. For the theologist of the Greeks (Orpheus) speaking concerning that first and occult God⁷⁸ who subsists prior to Phanes, says, “that he moves in an infinite circle with unwearied energy.”

Ὁ δ’απειρεσιον κατα κυκλον ατρυτως φοροιτο.

And the Chaldæan Oracles assert that all fountains and principles abide in an unsluggish revolution. For, since every thing which is moved in a circle has permanency mingled with motion, they are very properly said always to abide in circulation, the unsluggish here signifying immateriality. The motions, therefore, of incorporeal natures are comprehended in this division; and so the one is shown to be immovable, as being established above all motion, and not as being partly immovable and partly movable.
[78] Viz. the το ον or the first being of Plato, the summit of the intelligible order.
[79] That it is impossible for the one to pass from one place to another is evident. For either the whole must be within both places; or the whole must be without both; or this part of it must be here, and that in the other place. But if the whole being without is in neither, it cannot be moved from one place to another. If again the whole is within both, neither again will it be moved from the former to the following place. And if one part of it is in this, and another in the remaining place, it will be partible, or consist of parts. But the one is not partible; and consequently it cannot be in any thing. And here observe, that though there may be something which is neither without nor within a certain thing, but is both without and within (for thus soul and intellect are said to be in the world and out of it), yet it is impossible for the whole of a thing to be in something, and yet be neither without nor within it. Regarding, therefore, the partible nature of soul, not only ours, but also that which is divine, we may say that it possesses the cause of a motion of this kind, since it is neither wholly within nor yet perfectly without that which is the object of its energy. For the whole of it does not at once apply itself to the conceptions of intellect, since it is not naturally adapted to see these collectively; nor is it wholly separated from intellect, but according to its own different intellections it becomes in a certain respect situated in the different forms of intellect, and introduces itself as it were into its intellections, as into its proper place. Hence Timæus does not refuse to call the soul generated, as he had previously denominated it partible. For soul does not possess a collective intelligence, but all its energies are generated; and in consequence of this its intellections are essentialized in transitions. Hence also time is so intimately connected with soul, that it measures its first energies. Intellect, therefore, appears genuinely to contain the paradigm of a circular motion, possessing as a centre that part of itself which abides, and which is the intelligible of intellect, but the many progressions of forms from this Vesta as it were of itself, as right lines from the centre. But all its energies, which are intellective of intelligibles, have the relation of the one superficies running round the lines from the centre, and the centre itself. A divine soul, however, contains the paradigm both of a right-lined and circular progression; of the former, as proceeding about the intelligible place, abiding indeed as a whole, but evolving the intelligible by its transitions; but of the latter, as always fixing the whole of itself in the object of intellection: for, as a whole, it both abides and is moved. And in the last place, a partial soul, by its motions according to length, clearly produces the incorporeal cause of a right-lined motion.
[80] Plato here collects all the aforesaid conclusions about motion; and having before enumerated them in a divided manner, he makes one universal conclusion, teaching us through this ascent how it is always requisite in the vision of the one to contract multitude into that which is common, and to comprehend parts through the whole. For the things which he had before divided into parts receiving three motions, viz. internal mutation, the right-lined and circular progression, these he now separately enumerates, by saying, that the one neither proceeds, nor is circularly borne along, nor is altered; and making an orderly enumeration, he recurs from things proximately demonstrated to such as are prior to them, that he may conjoin the beginning to the end, and may imitate the intellectual circle. And here we may again see that the proposition and the conclusion are universal, but that the demonstrations proceed together with divisions. For stable intellections and conversions contract multitude; but those which subsist according to progression divide the whole into parts, and the one into its proper number.
[81] The thing proposed to be shown from the first was to demonstrate that the one is unindigent of permanency and motion, and that it is beyond and the cause of both. For the negation of permanency and motion cannot be applied to the one in the same manner as to matter. For matter participates of these merely in appearance. It is therefore applied to the one, as being better than both these. For, as some one prior to us, says Proclus, observes, because the one does not abide, being is moved, and because it is not moved, being is permanent. For being by its stability imitates the immobility of the one, and, by its efficacious energy, that which in the one is above tension and an establishment in itself. And through both these it is assimilated to the one, which is neither. It is also beautifully observed here by Proclus, that a thing appears to stand still, which is established in another, but to be at rest, which is able to abide in itself. But Parmenides denies both these of the one, as not being in another nor in itself. Whether, therefore, there is a certain intellectual tranquillity which is celebrated by the wise, or mystic port, or paternal silence, it is evident that the one is exempt from all such things, being beyond energy, silence and quiet, and all the stable signatures which belong to beings. But here, perhaps, some one may say, it has been sufficiently shown that the one is neither moved nor stands still, yet nothing hinders but that he may be called stability or motion. To this we reply, that the one, as we have before observed, is neither both of two opposites, lest he should become not one, and there should be prior to it that which mingles the opposites; nor is it the better of the two, lest it should have something which is opposed, and thus, in consequence of containing a property opposite to something else, should again be not one, and not being one should consist of infinite infinites; nor is it the worse of the two, lest it should have something better than itself, and this something better should again in like manner consist of infinite infinites. Hence Plato at length even denies the one of it, because that which is first is beyond all opposition, and the one is opposed to the many. Let it also be observed that the first permanency and the first motion originate from themselves, the one deriving from itself stable power, and the other efficacious energy; in the same manner as every thing else which is first begins its own energy from itself. So that, when it is said the one does not stand, and is not moved, this also implies that it is not permanency, and that it is not motion. Hence, neither must it be said that the one is the most firm of all stable things, and the most energetic of every thing that is in motion: for transcendencies of participations do not take away, but strengthen the participations. If, therefore, the one does not in short stand, it is not most firm. For either most firm is only a name, and asserts nothing concerning the one, or it manifests that it is most stable. And if it is not in any respect moved, it is not most energetic. For, if these words signify nothing, they assert nothing concerning the one; but, if they signify that which in the most eminent degree participates of motion, the one will not be most energetic. For energy is a certain motion.
[82] Plato here appears to characterise for us the whole demiurgic order, in the same manner as the words prior to these characterise the vivific order, and those again prior to these, that which ranks as the summit in intellectuals. These things, indeed, as Proclus well observes, appear in a most eminent degree to pertain to the demiurgic series, according to the Platonic narrations concerning it, and those of other theologists; though, says he, this is dubious to some, who alone consider permanency and motion, sameness and difference, philosophically, and do not perceive that these things are first beheld about the one, and not about being; and that, as there is a twofold number, viz. superessential and essential, in like manner each of these genera of being first subsist in the divine unities, and afterwards in beings. They likewise do not see that these are signs of the divine and self-perfect orders, and not of the genera or species only of being. Let it also be observed that the genera of being subsist both in the intelligible and intellectual orders, intelligibly in the former, and intellectually in the latter; and this is just the same as to assert that in intelligibles they subsist absorbed in unity, and without separation, but in intellectuals with separation according to their proper number. So that it is by no means wonderful if the intelligible monad comprehends the whole intellectual pentad, viz. essence, motion, permanency, sameness and difference, without division, and in the most profound union, since through this union all these are after a manner one: for all things, says Proclus, are there without separation according to a dark mist, as the theologist⁸³ asserts. Αδιακριτων παντων οντων κατα σκοτοεσσαν ὁμιχλην φησιν ὁ θεολογος. For if in arithmetic the monad, which is the cause of monadic numbers, contains all those forms or productive principles which the decad comprehends decadically, and the tetrad tetradically, is it at all wonderful that among beings the intelligible monad should comprehend all the genera of being monadically, and without separation; but that another order should contain these dyadically, another tetradically, and another decadically? For ideas also subsist in intelligibles, but not after the same manner as in intellectuals; since in the former they subsist totally, unitedly, and paternally; but in the latter with separation, partially, and demiurgically. But it is every where necessary that the number of ideas should be suspended from the genera of being. If, therefore, intellectual ideas participate of the intellectual genera, intelligible ideas also must participate of the intelligible genera. But if ideas first subsist tetradically at the extremity of intelligibles, it is necessary that there should be a monadic subsistence of these genera prior to the formal tetrad. Let us now consider why Plato first takes away from the one, motion and permanency, and afterwards same and different. We have already indeed said what was the cause of this, viz. that motion and permanency are twofold, one kind being prior to same and different, according to which every thing proceeds and is converted to its cause, but the other being posterior to same and different, and appearing in the energies of beings. But we shall now, with Proclus, assign the reason of this, after another manner, from the problems themselves. In this first hypothesis then, concerning the one, some things are denied of it with respect to itself alone: for multitude and the whole, figure, and the being in a certain thing, motion and permanency, are taken away from the one considered with respect to itself. But same and different, similar and dissimilar, equal and unequal, older and younger, are denied of the one both with respect to itself and other things: for the one is neither the same with itself, nor with others, and in a similar manner with respect to different, and each of the rest. But that which is the object of opinion or science, or which can be named, or is effable, are denied of the one with respect to other things: for it is unknown to all secondary natures, by these gnostic energies. Negations, therefore, being assumed in a triple respect, viz. of a thing with respect to itself, of itself with respect to others, and of itself both with respect to itself and others, and some of these ranking as first, others as middle, and others as last, hence motion and permanency are denied of the one, as of itself with reference to itself, but the same and different are denied in a twofold respect, viz. of the one with reference to itself, and of itself with reference to other things. Hence the former are co-arranged with first negations, but the latter with such as are middle. Nor is it without reason that he first discourses about the former, and afterwards about the latter. Thus also he denies the similar and the dissimilar, the equal and the unequal, the older and the younger, of the one with reference to itself and other things. He likewise through these takes away from the one, essence, quantity, quality, and the when: for the same and different pertain to essences, the similar and the dissimilar, to qualities, the equal and the unequal, to quantities, and the older and the younger, to things which exist at a certain time. Plato also, says Proclus, denies the same and the different of the one, knowing that Parmenides in his poems places these in the one being: for thus Parmenides speaks—

Ταυτον τ’ εν ταυτῳ μιμνει, καθ’ εαυτο τε κειται.
i. e. Same in the same abides, yet by itself subsists.

It is necessary, therefore, to show that the one which is established above the one being, is by no means same, and much more that it it is not different: for sameness is more allied to the one than difference. Hence, he takes away both same and different from the one, that he may show that it transcends the one being, in which both these subsist according to the verses of Parmenides, not confuting these verses, but taking occasion from them to make this additional assertion. For, if that which participates of sameness and difference is not yet the true one, it necessarily follows that the true one must subsist prior to these: for whatever is added to the one obscures by the addition the unity of the recipient.
[83] Viz. Orpheus. Agreeably to this, in the Orphic hymn to Protogonus, who subsists at the extremity of the intelligible order, that deity is said “to wipe away from the eyes a dark mist.”

Οσσων ὁς σκοτοεσσαν απημαυρωσας ὁμιχλην.
[84] There being four problems concerning same and different, as denied of the one, Plato beginning from the former of these, and which are more easily apprehended by us, proceeds through those that remain. But the four problems are as follow: The one is not different from itself: the one is not different from other things: the one is not the same with itself: and the one is not the same with other things. Of these four the extremes are the clearest: for that the one is not the same with other things is evident, and also that it is not different from itself. But the other two are attended with some difficulty. For how can any one admit that that which is one is not the same with itself? Or how is it possible not to be persuaded, that it is not different from other things, since it is exempt from them? Let us then consider how the first of these problems is demonstrated, viz. that the one is not different from itself. It is, therefore, demonstrated as follows: If the one is different from itself, it will be entirely different from the one. But that which is different from the one, is not one: for that which is different from man is not man, and that which is different from horse is not horse; and, in short, that which is different from any thing is not that thing. If, therefore, the one is different from itself, the one is not one. And this absurdity leads us to contradiction, that the one is not one. The one, therefore, is not different from itself. Some one, however, may doubt against this demonstration, whether it may not thus be shown that difference is not different from itself; though indeed it is necessary that it should. For every true being begins its energy from itself, as we have before observed: and the Eleatean guest, in the Sophista, says that the nature of difference is different from the other genera. But if difference is different from itself, it will not be difference; and hence difference is not different from itself. May we not say, therefore, that difference begins indeed its energy from itself, and makes itself different, yet not different from itself, but from other things? For it is able to separate them from each other, and, by a much greater priority, itself from them: and thus its energy is directed to itself, in preserving itself unconfused with other things. It may also be said, and that more truly, that difference so far as it is different from itself is not difference: for it is different from itself through the participation of the other genera of being. So far, therefore, as it participates of other things, so far it is not difference. Nor is it absurd that this should be the case with difference: for it is multitude. But it is absurd that this should be the case with the one: for it is one alone, and nothing else.
[85] This is the second of the four problems, which is indeed more easily to be apprehended than those that follow, but is more difficult than the one that precedes it. Plato, therefore, confides in the assertion that the one receives nothing from other things. For this is an axiom of all others the most true, both when applied to the one, and to all other causes; since no cause receives any thing from that which is subordinate to itself. For neither do the heavens receive into themselves any thing of mortal molestation; nor does the demiurgus receive any thing from the generation which is about the whole world; nor do intelligibles participate of multitude from the intellectual order, and the separation which it contains. So that neither can the one be filled from the idiom of beings, and consequently it is by no means the same with other things. For it would either participate of the things themselves, or of things proceeding from them, or both they and the one would participate of some other one. But both cannot participate of another one: for nothing is better than the one, nor is there any thing which is more one; since in this case there would be something prior to the one. For the ascent is to the one, and not to multitude; since things more elevated always possess more of the nature of unity, as for instance, soul than body. Nor does the one participate of things themselves, since these are worse than it, nor of things proceeding from them: for it is at once exempt from all things, and is the object of desire to all beings, subsisting as an imparticipable prior to wholes, that it may be one without multitude; since the participated one is not in every respect one. In no respect, therefore, is the one the same with others. And thus it appears from common conceptions that the assertion is true. Let us now consider the demonstration of Parmenides, which is as follows: If the one is the same with any thing else, it will be the same with that which is not one: for it is itself the one. Hence also it is at the same time evident, that it is impossible for the true one to be two: for the two will differ from each other. Each, therefore, being one and differing from the other, each in consequence of possessing difference together with unity, will no longer be one. Hence the one is alone one. That, therefore, which is different from it is not one. Hence, if the one is the same with another, it is clearly the same with non-one: for that which is the same with the one is one, and that which is the same with non-man is non-man. If, therefore, the one is the same with any other thing besides itself, the one is not one. But if not one it is different from the one; which was before shown to be absurd. Parmenides also adds, and it would be different from the one, that through the absurdity proximately shown the absurdity of this hypothesis also may become apparent. Thus likewise it may be demonstrated that sameness itself is not sameness, if there is any instance in which it is in a certain respect the same with difference, or any thing else besides itself. Thus, it may be said that sameness is the same with difference, so far as it participates of difference. If, therefore, it is the same with difference, it is different, and not the same. Nor is there any absurdity in this: for in its own essence it is sameness, but by participation of difference it becomes different. It becomes however the same with difference, through the participation of difference; which is most paradoxical, that sameness should become same through difference.
[86] Of the two remaining problems Plato again demonstrates the more easy prior to the other. But it is easier to deny that which is more remote from the one; and such is dif- ference. But sameness is more allied to the one; and hence it has a nature more difficult to be separated from it, and requires more abundant discussion. The one then, so far as one, does not participate of difference: for, if it did, it would be non-one. But every thing which is different from another is said to be so through difference. The one, therefore, so far as one is not different, because it does not participate of difference. For to be different alone pertains to that which is different from another, and not to the one; and such is that which participates of difference. But if the one is different through difference, it participates of difference. For the one is one thing, and different another; the former being denominated by itself, and the other with relation to something else: so that different is not different by the one, but by that which makes different. But here a doubt may arise, how the one is said to be exempt from all things if it is not different from them? For that which is exempt is separated from those things from which it is exempt. But every thing which is separated is separated through difference: for dif- ference is the source of division, but sameness of connexion. In answer to this it may be said, that the one is exempt and separate from all things, but that it does not possess this separation through difference, but from another ineffable transcendency, and not such as that which difference imparts to beings. For, as both the world and intellect subsist for ever, but the ever is not the same in both, being temporal in the former, and eter- nal in the latter, and exempt from all time; so intellect is exempt from the world, and the one from beings; but the exempt subsistence of intellect is derived from difference which separates beings, but that of the one is prior to difference. For difference imitates that which is exempt and unmingled in the one, just as sameness imitates its ineffable oneness.
[87] This is the fourth of the problems, that the one is not the same with itself, neither as sameness, nor as participating of sameness: and, in the first place, he shows that it is not as sameness. For, if the one is sameness, it is necessary that every thing which participates of sameness should according to that participation become one. It is however possible that a thing so far as it participates of sameness may become many, as is evident in that which becomes the same with many qualities. Sameness, therefore, is not the one. For, as that which becomes the same with man is man, and that which becomes the same with the white is white, and with the black, black, and, in short, in every thing, that which is the same with any form entirely receives that with which it is said to become the same,—so that which becomes the same with many things, so far as it is many, is the same with them. But, so far as it is many, it is impossible that it can be one. And hence sameness is not the one.
[88] This is the common conclusion of the four problems, and which reverts to the first proposition. We may also see that Plato begins from the different and ends in the dif- ferent, imitating, both by the conciseness of the conclusion and in making the end the same with the beginning, the circle of intellectual energy. It is also beautifully observed here by Proclus, that as difference in beings is twofold, or rather triple, viz. that of things more excellent, that of things subordinate, and that of things coordinate,—hence in superessential natures transcendency must be assumed instead of the difference which subsists in forms between the more excellent and the inferior; subjection instead of the difference of the inferior with respect to the superior; and idiom instead of the separa- tion of things coordinate from each other. The one, therefore, transcends all things; and neither is the one different from other things, nor are other things different from the one. But if we employ such like appellations, and assert that other things are different from the one, we should look to the imbecility of human nature, and pardon such assertions. For that we cannot properly predicate any thing of the one, Plato himself indicates at the end of this hypothesis: at the same time, however, we assert something concerning it, through the spontaneous parturition of the soul about the one.
[89] Parmenides, says Proclus, passes from the demiurgic to the assimilative order, the idiom of which is to be alone supermundane, and through which all the mundane and liber- ated genera are assimilated to the intellectual Gods, and are conjoined with the demiurgic monad, which rules over wholes with exempt transcendency. From this demiurgic monad, too, all the assimilative order proceeds. But it imitates the sameness which is there through similitude, exhibiting in a more partial manner that power of same- ness which is collective and connective of wholes. It likewise imitates demiurgic differ- ence, through dissimilitude, expressing its separating and divisive power through unconfused purity with respect to the extremes. Nor must we here admit, as Proclus well observes, that which was asserted by some of the antients, viz. that similitude is remitted sameness, and dissimilitude remitted difference. For neither are there any intentions and remissions in the Gods, nor things indefinite, and the more and the less, but all things are there established in their proper boundaries and proper measures. Hence, it more accords with divine natures to assert such things of them as can be manifested by analogy. For Plato also admits analogy in these, in the Republic establishing the good to be that in intelligibles which the sun is in sensibles. Similitude, therefore, and dissimilitude are that in secondary which sameness and difference are in the natures prior to them: and the similar and the dissimilar are the first progeny of sameness and difference. The equal, also, and the unequal proceed from thence, but prior to these are similitude and dissimilitude: for the similar is more in forms than the equal, and the dissimilar more than the unequal. Hence, they are proximately suspended from the demiurgic monad; and on this account Timæus not only represents the demiurgus making the world, but also assimilating it to animal itself more than it was before; indicating by this that the assimilative cause presubsists in the fabricator of the universe. With great propriety, therefore, Plato proceeds to the assimilative order after the demiurgic monad, taking away this also from the one. But the method of the problems is the same as before: for here also there are four problems, viz. if the one is similar to itself; if the one is dissimilar to itself; if the one is similar to other things; if the one is dissimilar to other things. But all the demonstrations, that none of these is adapted to the one, originate from sameness and difference, the media, according to demonstrative rules, being the proper causes of the thing. Hence, he often frames the demonstration from things remote, and not from things which have been proximately demonstrated. For things in a higher order, and which have a prior subsistence, are not always generative of secondary natures, but they perfect, or defend, or employ a providential care about, but are not entirely generative of them. Thus, for instance, Plato demonstrates that the one is not a whole, and has not parts, from the many: for thence the intellectual wholeness proceeds. He demonstrates that it has not begin- ning, middle, and end, from whole and parts: for the order characterized by beginning, middle, and end, is proximately produced from these. Again, he demonstrates that the one is neither straight nor round, from beginning, middle, and end: for the straight and round thence receive their generation. But he shows that the one is neither in itself, nor in another, from that order, and not from figure, though according to progression this is arranged before it. And he demonstrates that the one neither stands nor is moved, from not being in any thing, and from not having a middle, and from not having parts. Thus, also, in the demonstrations concerning similitude and dissimilitude, he derives the negations which are negative of the one from sameness and difference: for the latter are the sources of progression to the former.
[90] The syllogism which furnishes us with a proof that the one is not similar, neither to itself nor to another, proceeds geometrically as follows, Plato having first defined what the similar is. That, then, which suffers a certain something which is the same, is said to be similar to that with which it suffers something the same. For, we say that two white things are similar, and also two black, in consequence of the former being the passive recipients of the white, and the latter of the black. And again, if you say that a white thing and a black thing are similar to each other, you will say that they are similar from the participation of colour, which is their common genus. The syllogism, therefore, is as follows: The one suffers nothing the same, neither with itself nor with another: the similar suffers something the same, either with itself or with another: the one, therefore, is not similar, neither to itself nor to another. Such being the syllogism, Plato thinks that one of the propositions alone requires assistance, viz. that which asserts that the one does not suffer any thing the same, neither with itself nor with another. And here, as Proclus well observes, we may see what caution Plato uses: for he does not say if the one should suffer the one, but if the one should suffer any thing, except being the one which is, χωρις του ἑν ειναι, for it is the one, and does not suffer it; since every thing which suffers, or is passive, is many. For he calls the participation of any thing a passion. Does he not, therefore, in saying that the one suffers nothing else, but the one which is, indicate in a very wonderful manner that even the one is subordinate to the principle of all things? which indeed he says it is at the end of this hypothesis. He also indicates that the addition of this assertion to the principle of things is foreign to it, though more allied to it than other things, because it is not possible to conceive any thing more venerable than the one. Should it be asked whence it is that what suffers the same is similar, we reply that similitude is the progeny of sameness, in the same manner as sameness of the one. Sameness, therefore, participates of the one, and similitude of sameness. For, this it is to suffer, to participate of another, and to proceed according to another more antient cause. Let it also be observed, that when it is said that all things are similar to the one, in consequence of ineffably proceeding from thence, they must not be understood to be similar according to this similitude, but alone according to that union which pervades to all beings from the one, and the spontaneous desire of all things about the one. For all things are what they are from a desire of the one, through the one; and in consequence of this parturition every thing being filled with a union adapted to its nature, is assimilated to the one cause of all things. Hence, it is not assimilated to similars; lest the ineffable principle itself should also appear to be similar to other things; but, if it be lawful so to speak, it is assimilated to the paradigm of things similar to this highest cause. Beings, therefore, are assimilated to the one; but they are assimilated through an ineffable desire of the one, and not through this assimilative order, or the form of similitude. For the assimilative which immediately subsists after the intellectual order, is not able to conjoin and draw upwards all beings to the one; but its province is to elevate things posterior to itself to the intellectual demiurgic monad. When, therefore, it is said that every progression is effected through similitude, it is requisite to pardon the names which we are accustomed to use in speaking of beings, when they are applied to the unfolding into light of all things from the ineffable principle of all. For, as we call him the one, in consequence of perceiving nothing more venerable, nothing more holy, in beings than unity, so we characterize the progression of all things from him by similitude, not being able to give any name to such progression more perfect than this. Thus also Socrates, in the Republic, calls this ineffable principle, according to analogy, the idea of the good; because the good, or the one, is that to all beings which every intelligible idea is to the proper series subsisting from and with relation to it.
[91] After the assimilative order of Gods, which is supermundane alone, antient theologists arrange that which is denominated liberated, the peculiarity of which, according to them, is to be exempt from mundane affairs, and at the same time to communicate with them. They are also proximately carried in the mundane Gods; and hence they say that they are allotted the medium of the supermundane and mundane Gods. This liberated order, therefore, Plato delivers to us in the second hypothesis, and also there says what the idiom of it is, and that it is touching: for it is in a certain respect mundane and supermundane, being collective of those that are properly called mundane Gods, and producing into multitude the union of all the assimilative and supermundane series. Here, however, Plato omits this order, and passes on to those Gods that are alone mundane; the reason of which we shall endeavour to assign in commenting on the second hypothesis. The peculiarity, therefore, of the mundane Gods is the equal and the unequal, the former of these indicating their fulness, and their receiving neither any addition nor ablation; (for such is that which is equal to itself, always preserving the same boundary;) but the latter, the multitude of their powers, and the excess and defect which they contain. For, in these, divisions, variety of powers, differences of progressions, analogies, and bonds through these, are, according to antient theologists, especially allotted a place. Hence, Timæus also constitutes souls through analogy, the causes of which must necessarily presubsist in the Gods that proximately preside over souls: and as all analogies subsist from equality, Plato very properly indicates the idiom of these divinities by the equal and the unequal. But he now very properly frames the demonstrations of the negations of the equal and the unequal from sameness and the many, and not from the similar and the dissimilar, though he proximately spoke of these. For every mundane deity proceeds from the demiurgic monad, and the first multitude which he first denies of the one. Of this then we must be entirely persuaded, that the things from which demonstrations consist are the preceding causes of the particulars about which Parmenides discourses; so that the equal and the unequal, so far as they proceed from the one, and subsist through sameness and the many, so far through these they are denied of the one. Hence, Plato thus begins his discourse concerning them:—“But since it is such,” viz. not as we have just now demonstrated, but as was formerly shown, that it neither receives same nor different, and is without multitude,—being such, it is neither equal nor unequal, neither to itself nor to others: for, again, there are here twofold conclusions, in the same manner as concerning the similar and the dissimilar, and the same and the different. But that the equal and the unequal are suspended from the twofold coordinations of divine natures is not immanifest. For the equal is arranged under the similar, and the same, subsistence in another, the round, and the whole; but the unequal, under the dissimilar, the different, subsistence in itself, the straight, and the possession of parts. And again, of these the former are suspended from bound, and the latter from infinity. Plato also appears to produce the discourse through certain oppositions, as it were, that he may show that the one is above all opposition. For the one cannot be the worse of the two opposites, since this would be absurd; nor can it be the better of the two, since in this case it would not be the cause of all things. For the better opposite is not the cause of the worse, but in a certain respect communicates with it, without being properly its cause. For neither does sameness give subsistence to difference, nor permanency to motion; but comprehension and union pervade from the better to the worse.
[92] It is by no means wonderful that the demonstrations of the equal and the unequal, which are here assumed as symbols of mundane deity, should be adapted to physical and mathematical equals, to the equals in the reasons of soul, and to those in intellectual forms. For it is necessary that demonstrations in all these negations should begin supernally, and should extend through all secondary natures, that they may show that the one of the Gods is exempt from intellectual, psychical, mathematical, and physical forms. All such axioms, therefore, as are now assumed concerning things equal and unequal, must be adapted to this order of Gods. Hence, says Proclus, as it contains many powers, some of which are coordinate with each other, and extend themselves to the self-perfect and the good, but others differ according to transcendency and subject in— the former must be said to be characterised by equality, but the latter by inequality. For the good is the measure of every thing: and hence such things as are united by the same good are measured by the same measure, and are equal to each other. But things which are uncoordinated with each other make their progression according to the unequal. Since, however, of things unequal, some are commensurate and others incommensurate, it is evident that these also must be adapted to divine natures. Hence commensuration must be referred to those Gods, through whom secondary natures are mingled with those prior to them, and participate of the whole of more excellent beings: for thus, in things commensurate, the lesser is willing to have a common measure with the greater, the same thing measuring the whole of each. But incommensuration must be ascribed to those divinities from whom things subordinate, through the exempt transcendency of more excellent natures, participate of them in a certain respect, but are incapable through their subjection of being conjoined with the whole of them. For the communion from first to partial and multifarious natures is incommensurate to the latter. If, indeed, the equal and the unequal are symbols of the mundane Gods, the commensurate and the incommensurate are here very properly introduced. For in things incorporeal and immaterial this opposition has no place, all things being there effable; but where there is a material subject, and a mixture of form and something formless, there an opposition of commensuration very properly subsists. Hence, as the mundane Gods are proximately connective of souls and bodies, form and matter, a division appears in them, according to the equal and the unequal.
[93] Plato having proceeded in negations as far as to the mundane Gods, always taking away things in a consequent order from the one, through the middle genera, or, to speak more clearly, the negations always producing things secondary, through such as are proximate to the one, from the exempt cause of wholes, he is now about to separate from the one the divine essence itself, which first participates of the Gods, and receives their progression into the world; or, to speak more accurately, he is now about to produce this essence from the ineffable fountain of all beings. For, as every thing which has being derives its subsistence from the monad of beings, both true being, and that which is assimilated to it, which of itself indeed is not, but through its communion with true being receives an obscure representation of being; in like manner, from the one unity of every deity, the peculiarity of which, if it be lawful so to speak, is to deify all things according to a certain exempt and ineffable transcendency, every divine number subsists, or rather proceeds, and every deified order of things. The design, therefore, as we have before observed, of what is now said, is to show that the one is exempt from this essence. And here we may see how Parmenides subverts their hypothesis who contend that the first cause is soul, or any thing else of this kind, and this by showing that the one does not participate of time: for it is impossible that a nature which is exempt from time should be soul; since every soul participates of time, and uses periods which are measured by time. The one also is better than and is beyond intellect, because every intellect is both moved and permanent; but it is demonstrated that the one neither stands nor is moved: so that, as Proclus well observes, through these things the three hypostases which rank as principles, viz. the one, intellect, and soul, become known to us (ὡς τε δια τουτων τας τρεις αρχικας ὑποστασεις εχοιμεν αν γιωριμους γεγενημενας.) But that the one is perfectly exempt from time, Parmenides demonstrates by showing in the first place that it is neither older, nor younger, nor of the same age with itself, nor with any other. For every thing which participates of time necessarily participates of these; so that by showing that the one is exempt from these which happen to every thing that participates of time, he also shows that the one has no connexion with time. This, however, says Proclus, is incredible to the many, and appeared so to the physiologists prior to Plato, who thought that all things were comprehended in time, and that, if there is any thing perpetual, it is infinite time, but that there is not any thing which time does not measure. For, as they were of opinion that all things are in place, in consequence of thinking that all things are bodies, and that nothing is incorporeal, so they thought that all things subsist in time, and are in motion, and that nothing is immovable; for the conception of bodies introduces with itself place, but motion time. As therefore it was demonstrated that the one is not in place, because it is not in another, and on this account is incorporeal,—in like manner through these arguments it is also shown that neither is it in time, and on this account that it is not soul, nor any thing else which requires and participates of time, either according to essence or according to energy. And here it is well worthy our observation, that Parmenides no longer stops at the dyad as in the former conclusions, but triadically enumerates the peculiarities of this order, viz. the older, the younger, and the possession of the same age, though, as Proclus justly observes, he might have said dyadically, of an equal age, and of an unequal age, as there the equal and the unequal. But there indeed, having previously introduced the dyad, he passes from the division of the unequal to the triadic distribution; but here he begins from the triad. For there union precedes multitude, and the whole the parts; but in this order of things multitude is most apparent, and a division into parts, as Timæus says, whom Parmenides, in what is now said, imitating begins indeed from the triad, but proceeds as far as to the hexad. For the older and the younger, and the possession of the same age, are doubled, being divided into itself and relation to another. That the triad, indeed, and the hexad are adapted to this order, is not immanifest: for the triple nature of soul, consisting of essence, same, and different, and its triple power, which receives its completion from the charioteer and the two horses, as we learn from the Phædrus, evince its alliance with the triad; and its essence being combined from both these shows its natural alliance with the hexad. And here it is necessary to observe, that as the discourse is about divine souls who are deified by always participating of the Gods, time according to its first subsistence pertains to these souls,—not that which proceeds into the apparent, but that which is liberated, and without habitude; and this is the time which is now denied of the one. All the periods of souls, their harmonious motions about the intelligible, and their circulations, are measured by this time. For it has a supernal origin, imitates eternity, and connects, evolves, and perfects every motion, whether vital, or pertaining to soul, or in whatever other manner it may be said to subsist. This time also is indeed essentially an intellect; but it is the cause to divine souls of their harmonic and infinite motion about the intelligible, through which these likewise are led to the older and to the same age: and this in a twofold respect. For the older in these with respect to themselves takes place, so far as with their more excellent powers they more enjoy the infinity of time, and participate it more abundantly: for they are not filled with similar perfection from more divine natures, according to all their powers, but with some more, and with others less. But that is said to be older which participates more of time. That which is older in these divine souls with respect to other things is effected so far as some of these receive the whole measure of time, and the whole of its extension proceeding to souls, but others are measured by more partial periods. Those, therefore, are older, whose period is more total, and is extended to a longer time. They may also be said to be older and at the same time younger with respect to themselves, by becoming hoary as it were above, through extending themselves to the whole power of time, but juvenile beneath, by enjoying time more partially. But, as with respect to others, they may be said to be older and at the same time younger, according to a subjection of energy: for that which has its circulation measured by a lesser period is younger than that whose circulation is measured by a more extended period. Again, among things coordinate, that which has the same participation and the same measure of perfection with others may be said to be of the same age with itself and others. But every divine soul, though its own period is measured according to one time, and that of the body which is suspended from it according to another, yet it has an equal restitution to the same condition; itself always according to its own time, and its body also according to its time. Hence, again, it is of the same age with itself and its body, according to the analogous. By thus interpreting what is now said of the one, we shall accord with Plato, in the Timæus, who there evinces that time is the measure of every transitive life, and who says that soul is the origin of a divine and wise life through the whole of time. And we shall also accord with his assertion in the Phædrus, that souls see true being through time, because they perceive temporally, and not eternally.
[94] Plato here demonstrates that the one is neither older nor younger than itself, or another. For, it was necessary to show that the one is beyond every divine soul, prior to other souls, in the same manner as it is demonstrated to be prior to true beings, and to be the cause of all things. Nor must it be on this account admitted that the one comprehends in itself the causes of all things, and through this is multitude. For every cause is the cause of one particular property; as, for instance, animal itself is the cause alone to animals of a subsistence as animals; and, in the same manner, every intelligible produces other things, according to its idiom alone. The one, therefore, is the cause of unities, and of union to all things; and all things are thence derived, either as being unities, or as composed from certain unities: for being itself, and, in short, every thing, is either as one, or as consisting from certain unities. For, if it is united, it is evident that it consists from certain things; and if these are unities the consequence is manifest: but if they are things united, we must again pass on to the things from which they are composed, and thus proceeding ad infinitum, we must end in certain unities, from which, as elements, that which is united consists. Hence it follows that all things are either unities or numbers. For that which is not a unity, but united, if it consists from certain definite unities, is number, and this will be the first number, subsisting from things indivisible: for every unity is indivisible. But the number of beings is from beings, and not from things indivisible. So that, if there is a certain cause of beings, it is the cause of all beings; but if there is a certain cause of the unities from which all things consist, it is indeed the cause of all things: for there is no longer any thing which is not either a unity, or composed from unities. Hence, it is not proper to say that the causes of all things are in the one, nor, without saying this, to think that the one is the cause of certain things, as of unities, and is not at the same time the cause of all things. Since, therefore, it is the cause of every divine soul, so far as these derive their subsistence as well as all beings from the divine unities, with great propriety is it necessary to show that the one is beyond the order of deified souls: for these souls so far as they are intellectual have intellect for their cause; so far as they are essences, they originate from intellect; and so far as they have the form of unity, they are derived from the one; receiving their hypostasis from this, so far as each is a multitude consisting of certain unities, and of these as elements.
[95] That which participates of time is twofold, the one proceeding, as it were, in a right line, and beginning from one thing, and ending in another; but the other proceeding circularly, and having its motion from the same to the same, to which both the beginning and the end are the same, and the motion is unceasing, every thing in it being both beginning and end. That, therefore, which energizes circularly, participates of time periodically: and so far as it departs from the beginning it becomes older, but so far as it approaches to the end it becomes younger. For, becoming nearer the end, it becomes nearer to its proper beginning; but that which becomes nearer to its beginning becomes younger. Hence, that which circularly approaches to the end becomes younger, the same also according to the same becoming older; for that which approximates to its end proceeds to that which is older. That to which the beginning, therefore, is one thing, and the end another, to this the younger is different from the older; but that to which the beginning and the end are the same, is in no respect older than younger, but, as Plato says, at the same time becomes younger and older than itself. Every thing, therefore, which participates of time, if it becomes both older and younger than itself, is circularly moved. But divine souls are of this kind: for they participate of time, and the time of their proper motion is periodical.
[96] As the one is not in time, because it is not in motion, so neither is it in eternity, because it is not in permanency: for eternity abides, as Timæus says.
[97] This division of time, says Proclus, accords with the multitude of the divine genera which are suspended from divine souls, viz. with angels, dæmons, and heroes. And, in the first place, this division proceeds to them supernally, according to a triadic distribution into the present, past, and future; and, in the next place, according to a distribution into nine, each of these three being again subdivided into three. For the monad of souls is united to the one whole of time, but this is participated secondarily by the multitude of souls. And of this multitude those participate of this whole totally, that subsist according to the past, or the present, or the future; but those participate it partially, that are essentialized according to the differences of these: for to each of the wholes a multitude is coordinated, divided into things first, middle, and last. For a certain multitude subsists in conjunction with that which is established according to the past, the summit of which is according to the was, but the middle according to it has been, and the end according to it did become. With that also which is established according to the present, there is another multitude, the principal part of which is characterized by the is, the middle by it is generated, and the end by it is becoming to be. And there is another triad with that which subsists according to the future, the most elevated part of which is characterized by the will be, that which ranks in the middle, by it may become, and the end, by it will be generated. And thus there will be three triads proximately suspended from these three wholenesses, but all these are suspended from their monad. All these orders which are distributed according to the parts of time, energize according to the whole of time, this whole containing in itself triple powers, one of which is perfective of all motion, the second connects and guards things which are governed by it, and the third unfolds divine natures into light. For as all such things as are not eternal are led round in a circle, the wholeness or the monad of time perfects and connects their essence, and discloses to them the united infinity of eternity, evolving the contracted multitude which subsists in eternal natures; whence also this apparent time, as Timæus says, unfolds to us the measures of divine periods, perfects sensibles, and guards things which are generated in their proper numbers. Time, therefore, possesses triple powers prior to souls, viz. the perfective, the connective, and the unfolding, according to a similitude to eternity. For eternity, possessing a middle order in intelligibles, perfects the order posterior to itself, supplying it with union, but unfolds into light that which is prior to itself, producing into multitude its ineffable union, and connects the middle bond of intelligibles, and guards all things intransitively through its power. Time, therefore, receiving supernally the triple powers of eternity, imparts them to souls. Eternity, however, possesses this triad unitedly; but time unitedly, and at the same time distributively; and souls distributively alone. Hence, of souls, some are characterized according to one, and others according to another power of time; some imitating its unfolding, others its perfective, and others its connective power. Thus also with respect to the Fates, some of these being adapted to give completion and perfection to things, are said to sing the past, always indeed energizing, and always singing, their songs being intellections and fabricative energies about the world: for the past is the source of completion. Others again of these are adapted to connect things present: for they guard the essence and the generation of these. And others are adapted to unfold the future: for they lead into essence and to an end that which as yet is not. We may also say, since there is an order of souls more excellent than ours divided into such as are first, such as are middle, and such as are last, the most total of these are adapted to the past. For, as this comprehends in itself the present and the future, so these souls comprehend in themselves the rest. But souls of a middle rank are adapted to the present: for this was once future, but is not yet the past. As, therefore, the present contains in itself the future, so these middle souls comprehend those posterior, but are comprehended in those prior to themselves. And souls of the third order correspond to the future: for this does not proceed through the present, nor has become the past, but is the future alone; just as these third souls are of themselves alone, but, through falling into a most partial subsistence, are by no means comprehensive of others; for they convolve the boundary according to a triadic division of the genera posterior to the Gods. The whole of the first triad, therefore, has in common the once, for this is the peculiarity of the past, and of completion; but it is divided into the was, it was generated, and it did become. Again, therefore, of these three, the was signifies the summit of the triad, bounded according to hyparxis itself; but it was generated, signifies an at-once-collected perfection; and it did become, an extension in being perfected; these things being imitations of intelligibles. For the was is an imitation of being, it was generated, of eternity, and it did become, of that which is primarily eternal: for being is derived to all things from the first of these; a subsistence at once as all and a whole from the second, and an extension into multitude from the third.
[98] It is not immanifest how the syllogism proceeds in what is now said: The one participates of no time; but every thing which once subsisted was, or has been, or did become; every thing which subsists according to the present is, or is generated, or is becoming to be; and every thing which subsists according to the future will be, or may become, or will be generated. But all these distribute the wholeness of time. The one, therefore, is exempt from, and is expanded above, this temporal triad and the unity from which it is suspended. From all, therefore, that has been said, it is requisite, as Proclus justly observes, to collect this one thing, that the one is established above every divine essence characterized by the nature of soul, and which always energizes after the same manner, such as are the souls of the more excellent genera, whether the division of them is made into three, or into nine, or into any other number. Should it be said, however, that the one, though it does not participate of time, may be time itself, for the first cause is denominated time by Orpheus; to this it may be replied, that the one cannot be time; since in this case the perfection proceeding from it would extend no further than souls, and things which are moved. For eternal natures are more excellent than such as energize according to time. The one, therefore, would be the cause of subordinate only, and not of superior natures; and thus would not be the cause of all things. But the first cause, says Proclus, was denominated time by Orpheus, according to a certain wonderful analogy: for the theologist symbolically calls the mystical processions of unbegotten natures, generations; and the cause of the unfolding into light of divine natures, Time; for, where there is generation, there also there is time. Thus, the generation of sensibles is according to mundane time, that of souls according to supercelestial time, and that of things eternal according to the one. Proclus beautifully adds: As therefore we endure to hear the sleepless energy of divine natures separate from the objects of their providential care, denominated sleep, their union, a bond, and their progression, a solution from bonds, so also we must endure those that introduce time and generation to things without time, and which are unbegotten.
[99] Having proceeded as far as to a deified essence, and which always energizes after the same manner, and having denied all the orders of the one, viz. the divine, the intellectual, and such as are psychical, we must again recur through a nature common to all the aforesaid orders, or, in other words, through being to the intelligible monad of all beings, and from this also we must exempt the one. For, as we before observed, Plato does not make the beginning of his negations from the summit of intelligibles, but from the summit of the intellectual order: for there the many are generated, as we shall show in commenting on the second hypothesis. But essence which subsists according to the one being, is prior to these many, and to all the above-mentioned orders. Hence, from all these, as participating of essence in common, we recur to essence itself, and make a negation even of this. For every thing which participates of essence participates of it according to some one of these, not indeed of those that are proximately enumerated, but of all together that the first hypothesis contains, such as whole, or having parts, or having beginning, middle, and end, or being in itself, or in another, and every thing else which is there denied of the one; so that it follows, as was before observed, that such things only are assumed as are consequent to beings so far as they are beings, and not so far as they are certain vital or intellectual natures. For every thing, says he, which in any respect participates of essence, participates of it according to some one of these negations. The one, therefore, does not participate of essence. Thus also Socrates, in the Republic, says, that the good is beyond essence, and is not essence, but is the cause of it, and is beyond every thing intellectual and intelligible, in the same manner as the sun is the cause of all visible natures, by essence meaning the same as being (το ον). For Plato here clearly says, that it is not possible for any thing to be, unless it participates of essence: and in the Timæus he makes a similar assertion. If, therefore, the first cause is superessential and above all being, it is false to assert that he is: for, since he is beyond essence, he is also exempt from being. And in this, as Proclus well observes, Parmenides in Plato differs from Parmenides in his verses, because the latter looks to the one being, and says that this is the cause of all things; but the former ascending from the one being to that which is one alone and prior to being, he denies of the one the participation of essence. And here observe, that Plato does not adopt the conclusion that the one is not through demonstration, because it was not possible to demonstrate this directly through the alliance of being with the one. For, as we have before observed, in negations, things more allied are more difficult to be demonstrated. But if this be true, it is evident that the one IS NOT. For every thing about the one which is added to it diminishes its exempt transcendency. Should it be asked why Parmenides does not begin his negations from the is, but from the many, and neither separates the order which immediately subsists after the one, and thus proceeds as far as to the last of things, nor, separating the one from these, ascends as far as to the summit of beings, we reply, that the negation of essence would be contrary to the hypothesis: for the hypothesis says that the one IS, but the negation that it IS NOT. It would, therefore, be of all things the most ridiculous to say immediately from the beginning, if the one is, the one is not: for the assertion would appear to subvert itself. Hence, employing the is, and saying, as if it made no difference, if the one is, Parmenides finds that the many appear to be especially opposed to the one. That the one, indeed, according to Plato, is above all essence, is evident from the testimony of Speusippus, according to Proclus, who also adds, that Speusippus confirms this from the opinion of the antients, when he says they thought that the one is better than being, and is the principle of being, free from all habitude to subsequent natures, just as the good itself is separated from the condition of every other good. But Speusippus there calls the first being the proper principle of beings, and boundless divinity depending on the one. Parmenides, therefore, beginning supernally from the intelligible summit of the first intellectual Gods, and producing in an orderly series the genera of the Gods, and of the natures united and subsequent to them, and always evincing that the one is ineffably exempt from all things, again returns from hence to the beginning, and, imitating the conversion of wholes, separates the one from the intelligible or highest Gods. For thus especially may we behold its immense transcendency, if we not only show that it is established above the second or third orders in the golden chain of deity, but that it also ranks before the intelligible unities themselves, and evince this in a manner coordinate to the simplicity of those occult natures, and not by various words, but by intellectual projection alone: for intelligibles are naturally adapted to be known by intellect. This, therefore, Parmenides in reality evinces, leaving logical methods, but energizing according to intellect, and asserting that the one is beyond essence, and the one being. For this is not collected, as we have before observed, from the preceding conclusions; since in this case the belief concerning the highest Gods, who are implied by essence, being derived from things inferior to them, would be void of demonstration: for all demonstration, as Aristotle justly observes, is from things naturally prior to, and more honourable than, the conclusions. Hence, Parmenides at the same time infers, that every kind of knowledge, and all the instruments of knowledge, fall short of the transcendency of the one, and beautifully end in the ineffable of the God who is beyond all things. For, after scientific energies and intellectual projections, union with the unknown succeeds; to which also Parmenides referring the whole discourse, concludes the first hypothesis, suspending all the divine genera from the one, which, as he also shows, is singularly exempt from all things. Hence it is said to be beyond the one which is conjoined with essence, and at the same time all the participated multitude of unities. It is also beautifully observed by Proclus, that by the appellation of the one in this dialogue we are not to understand that which is in itself the one; but that the inward one resident in our essence, and derived from the first one, as an occult symbol of his nature, is expressed by this appellation. For in every being there is an innate desire of the first cause; and hence, prior to appetite there is a certain occult perception of that which is first. Lastly, when Parmenides says that the one can neither be named nor spoken of, it follows that we are not only incapable of affirming any thing of it, but that even negations of it, though more safe than affirmations, are not to be admitted. For he who openly denies, in the mean time secretly affirms; since to deny any thing of the first, is to separate something from it; and this cannot be effected without forming in ourselves both the first, and that which we separate from it.
[100] This is the beginning of the second hypothesis, which, as we have observed in the Introduction to this dialogue, unfolds the whole order of the Gods, and establishes the summit of intelligibles as the first after the one, but ends in an essence which participates of time, and in deified souls. In the first place, therefore, let us endeavour to unfold what Plato here occultly delivers concerning the first procession or order of Gods, called the intelligible triad. As the first cause then is the one, and this is the same with the good, the universality of things must form a whole, the best and the most profoundly united in all its parts which can possibly be conceived: for the first good must be the cause of the greatest good, that is, the whole of things; and as goodness is union, the best production must be that which is most united. But as there is a difference in things, and some are more excellent than others, and this in proportion to their proximity to the first cause, a profound union can no otherwise take place than by the extremity of a superior order coalescing through intimate alliance with the summit of one proximately inferior. Hence the first of bodies, though they are essentially corporeal, yet κατα σχεσιν, through habitude or alliance, are most vital, or lives. The highest of souls are after this manner intellects, and the first of beings are Gods. For, as being is the highest of things after the first cause, its first subsistence must be according to a superessential characteristic. Now that which is superessential, considered as participated by the highest or true be- ing, constitutes that which is called intelligible. So that every true being depending on the Gods is a divine intelligible. It is divine, indeed, as that which is deified; but it is intel- ligible, as the object of desire to intellect, as perfective and connective of its nature, and as the plenitude of being itself. But in the first being life and intellect subsist according to cause: for every thing subsists either according to cause, or according to hyparxis, or according to participation. That is, every thing may be considered either as subsisting occultly in its cause, or openly in its own order (or according to what it is), or as participated by something else. The first of these is analogous to light when viewed subsisting in its fountain the sun; the second to the light immediately proceeding from the sun; and the third to the splendour communicated to other natures by this light. The first procession therefore from the first cause will be the intelligible triad, consisting of being, life, and intellect, which are the three highest things after the first God, and of which being is prior to life, and life to intellect. For whatever partakes of life partakes also of being: but the contrary is not true, and therefore being is above life; since it is the characteristic of higher natures to extend their communications beyond such as are subordinate. But life is prior to intellect, because all intellectual natures are vital, but all vital natures are not intellectual. But in this intelligible triad, on account of its superessential characteristic, all things may be considered as subsisting according to cause: and consequently number here has not a proper subsistence, but is involved in unproceeding union, and absorbed in super-essential light. Hence, when it is called a triad, we must not suppose that any essential distinction takes place, but must consider this appellation as expressive of its ineffable perfection. For, as it is the nearest of all things to the one, its union must be transcendently profound and ineffably occult. All the Gods indeed considered according to their unities are all in all, and are at the same time united with the first God like rays to light, or lines to a centre. And hence they are all established in the first cause (as Proclus beautifully observes) like the roots of trees in the earth; so that they are all as much as possible superessential, just as trees are eminently of an earthly nature, without at the same time being earth itself: for the nature of the earth as being a whole, or subsisting according to the eternal, is different from the partial natures which it produces. The intelligible triad, therefore, from its being wholly of a superessential idiom, must possess an inconceivable profundity of union, both with itself and its cause, so as to subsist wholly according to the united, το ηνωμενον; and hence it appears to the eye of pure intellect, as one simple indivisible splendour beaming from an unknown and inaccessible fire. He then who is able, by opening the greatest eye of the soul, to see that perfectly which subsists without separation, will behold the simplicity of the intelligible triad subsisting in a manner so transcendent as to be apprehended only by a superintellectual energy, and a deific union of the perceiver with this most arcane object of perception. But since in our present state it is impossible to behold an object so astonishingly lucid with a perfect and steady vision, we must be content, as Damascius well observes¹⁰¹, with a far distant, scarcely attainable, and most obscure glimpse; or with difficulty apprehending a trace of this light like a sudden corruscation bursting on our sight. Such then is the preeminence of the intelligible order, to which, on account of the infirmity of our mental eye, we assign a triple division, beholding as in a mirror a luminous triad, beaming from a uniform light; just, says Damascius, as the uniform colour of the sun appears in a cloud which possesses three catoptric intervals, through the various-coloured nature of the rainbow. But when we view this order in a distributed way, or as possessing separation in order to accommodate its all-perfect mode of subsistence to our imperfect conceptions, it is necessary to give the triad itself a triple division. For we have said that it consists of being, life, and intellect. But in being we may view life and intellect, according to cause; in life being according to participation, and intellect according to cause; and in intellect both being and life according to participation; while at the same time in reality the whole is profoundly one, and contains all things occultly, or according to cause. But when viewed in this divided manner, each triad is said in the Chaldaic theology to consist of father, power, and intellect; father being the same with hyparxis, unity, summit, or that which is super-essential; power being a certain pouring forth, or infinity of the one¹⁰² (or the summit); and on this account, says Damascius, it is present with father, as a diffused with an abiding one, and as pouring itself forth into a true chaos: but intellect, that is paternal intellect, subsisting according to a conversion to the paternal one; a conversion transcending all other conversions, as being neither gnostic, nor vital, nor essential, but an unseparated surpassing energy, which is union rather than conversion. Let not the reader, however, imagine that these names are the inventions of the latter Platonists; for they were well known to Plato himself, as is evident from his Timæus. For in that dialogue he calls the artificer of the universe intellect, and father; and represents him commanding the junior Gods to imitate the power which he employed in their generation. This intelligible triad is occultly signified by Plato, in the Philebus, under the dialectic epithets of bound, infinite, and that which is mixed. For all beings (says he) consist or are mingled from bound and infinity; and consequently being itself, which we have already shown has the highest subsistence after the first cause, must be before all things mixed from these two; the former of these, viz. bound, being evidently analogous to the one, or father, and infinity to power. We may likewise consider him as unfolding the intelligible order in the same dialogue, by the epithets of symmetry, truth, and beauty; which, says he, are requisite to every thing that is mixed. And he adds that this triad subsists in the vestibule of the good; evidently alluding by this expression to the profound union of this triad with the incomprehensible cause of all things. But, in the present dialogue, the intelligible order is delivered by Plato according to an all-perfect distribution into three triads; for the sake of affording us some demonstration, though very obscure and imperfect, of truth so transcendent and immense. In this second hypothesis, therefore, which, as we have already observed, unfolds the various orders of the Gods, each conclusion signifying some particular order, he calls the first of these triads ἑν ον, one being; power, or the middle habitude of both, being here concealed through excess of union; so that here the one partakes of being, and being of the one; which, as Proclus well observes, is indeed a circumstance of a most wonderful nature. Parmenides therefore calls this triad one being, without mentioning power, because the whole triad abides in unproceeding union, subsisting uniformly and without separation. But after this the second triad is allotted a progression, which Parmenides characterises by intelligible wholeness, but its parts are being and the one, and power, which is situated in the middle, is here distributive and not unific, as in the former triad. But his discourse concerning this triad commences from hence—“Again, therefore, let us consider if the one is, what will happen. Consider then whether it is not necessary that this hypothesis should signify such a one as possesses parts.” But he concludes his speculation thus—“That which is one therefore is a whole, and possesses a part.” But after these the third triad subsists, in which all intelligible multitude appears; and which Parmenides indeed (says Proclus) calls a wholeness, but such a one as is composed from a multitude of parts. For after that occult union (says he) of the first triad, and the dyadic distinction of the second, the progression of the third triad is produced, possessing its hypostasis indeed from parts, but then these parts compose a multitude which the triad prior to this generates. For unity, power and being are contained in this third triad; but then each of these is multiplied, and so the whole triad is a wholeness. But since each of its extremities, viz. the one, and being, is a multitude which is conjoined through a collective power, each of these is again divided and multiplied. For this power conjoining united multitude with the multitude of beings, some of these one being perfects through progression; but others, being which is one, through communion. Here therefore there are two parts of the wholeness, one and being. But the one participates of being: for the one of being is conjoined with being. The one of being therefore is again divided, so that both the one and being generate a second unity, connected with a part of being. But being which participates of the one, ον ἑν, is again divided into being and the one: for it generates a more particular being, depending on a more particular unity. And being here belongs to more particular deified beings, and is a more special monad. But power is the cause of this progression: for power possesses dual effection, and is fabricative of multitude. Parmenides begins his discourse concerning this triad as follows:—“What then? Can each of these parts of one being, that is to say the one and being, desert each other, so that the one shall not be a part of being, or being shall not be a part of the one? By no means.” But he finishes thus: “Will not, therefore, one being thus become an infinite multitude? So it appears.” Proclus adds: “Hence this triad proceeds according to each of the preexistent triads, flowing (according to the Oracle) and proceeding into all intel- ligible multitude. For infinite multitude demonstrates this flux, and evinces the incomprehensible nature of power.” But he likewise evinces that this triad is first begotten: for this first imparts the power of generating. And hence he calls the multitude which it contains generating (γινομενον). Proclus, therefore, very properly asks, whether the frequent use of the term generation in this part, does not plainly imply that the natures prior to this triad are more united with each other? But the infinity of multitude in this triad must not be considered as respecting the infinite of quantity; but nothing more is implied than that a multitude of this kind is the progeny of the first infinity, which it also unfolds: and this infinite is the same with that which is all perfect. For that (says Proclus) which has proceeded according to the all, and as far as it is requisite an intelligible nature should proceed, on account of a power generative of all things, is infinite; for it can be comprehended by no other. And thus much concerning the third intelligible triad, according to Parmenides. Let us now discourse in general (says Proclus¹⁰³) concerning all the intelligible triads, and the three conclusions in the Parmenides, by which these three orders are characterised: The first triad, therefore, which is allotted an occult and intelligible summit among intelligibles, Plato, at one time proceeding from that union which it contains, and from its separate supremacy with respect to others, denominates one; as in the Timæus—For eternity (says he) abides in one. But reason demonstrates that the first triad of intelligibles is contained in this one. But at another time proceeding from the extremities which it contains, that is from that which is participated, and from that which participates, he calls it one being; not mentioning power here, because it is uniformly and occultly comprehended in this triad. And again, sometimes he calls the whole triad bound, infinite, and mixed, according to the monads which it contains. And here bound demonstrates divine hyparxis; but infinite, generative power; and mixed, an essence pro- ceeding from this power. And thus (as I have said) by these appellations Plato instructs us concerning the first triad; evincing its nature, sometimes by one name, sometimes by two, and sometimes by three appellations. For a triad is contained in this, according to which the whole is characterised; likewise a duad, through which its extremities communicate with each other; and lastly a monad, which evinces through its monads the ineffable, occult, and unical nature of the first God. But he calls the second triad posterior to this; in the Timæus, indeed, eternity; but in the Parmenides the first wholeness. And if we attentively consider that every eternal is a whole, we shall perceive that these two are allotted the same peculiarity of nature. For, whatever is entirely eternal possesses both its whole essence and energy at once present with itself. For such is every intellect which perfectly establishes in itself both being and intellection, as a whole at once present, and a comprehensive all. Hence it does not possess one part of being while it is destitute of another; nor does it participate partially of energy, but it wholly comprehends total being and total intelligence. But if intellect proceeded in its energies according to time, but possessed an eternal essence, it would possess the one as a whole ever abiding the same, but the other subsisting in generation, differently at different periods of time. Eternity, therefore, wherever it is present, is the cause of wholeness. To which we may add, that the whole every where contains eternity: for no whole ever deserts either its own essence or perfection; but that which is first corrupted and vitiated is partial. Hence this visible universe is eternal, because it is a whole; and this is likewise true of every thing contained in the heavens, and of each of the elements: for wholeness is every where comprehensive of its subject natures. Hence whole- ness and eternity subsist together, are the same with each other, and are each of them a measure; the one indeed of all eternal and perpetual natures, but the other of parts and every multitude. But since there are three wholenesses, one prior to parts, another com- posed from parts, and a third contained in a part—hence, through that wholeness which is prior to parts, eternity measures the divine unities exempt from beings; but through that which is composed from parts, the unities distributed together with beings; and through that which subsists in a part, all beings and total essences. For these partially contain the parts of the divine unities, which preexist unically in the unities themselves. Besides, eternity is nothing else than an illumination proceeding from the unity connected with being. But whole itself consists of two parts, viz. from one and being, power being the conciliator of these parts. Hence the duad, according with the middle intelligible triad, unfolds the uniform and occult hypostasis of the first triad. Besides, Plato in the Timæus calls the third intelligible triad animal-itself, perfect, and only-begotten. But in the Parmenides he denominates it infinite multitude, and a wholeness comprehending many parts. And in the Sophista he calls it that which is always intelligible, and dis- tributed into many beings. All these, therefore, are the progeny of one science, and tend to one intelligible truth. For when Timæus calls this triad intelligible animal, he likewise asserts that it is perfect, and that it comprehends intelligible animals as its parts, both according to the one and according to parts. And Parmenides himself, declaring that one being is perfect multitude, demonstrates that it subsists in this order. For the infinite is omnipotent and perfect, as we have previously observed, containing in itself an intelligible multitude of parts, which it likewise produces. And of these parts, some are more universal, but others more partial; and (as Timæus observes) are parts both according to the one and according to genera. Besides, as Timæus calls that which is animal-itself eternal, and only-begotten, so Parmenides first attributes to infinite multitude the ever, and to be generated, in the following words: “And on the same account, whatever part is generated will always possess these two parts: for the one will always contain being, and being the one; so that two things will always be generated, and no part will ever be one.” Who then so perspicuously admonishes us of eternal animal and of the first-begotten triad as Parmenides, who first assumes in this order generation and the ever, and so frequently employs each of these appellations? Perfect animal, therefore, is the same with omnipotent intelligible multitude. For since the first infinity is power, and the whole of that which is intelligible subsists according to this, receiving from hence its division into parts, I rather choose to call this triad omnipotent; deviating in this respect from that appellation of the infinite, by which vulgar minds are generally disturbed. Such then is the intelligible triad, considered according to an all-perfect distribution, in accommodation to the imbecility of our mental eye. But if we are desirous, after having bid adieu to corporeal vision, and the fascinating but delusive forms of the phantasy, which, Calypso-like, detain us in exile from our fathers’ land; after having through a long and laborious dialectic wandering gained our paternal port, and purified ourselves from the baneful rout of the passions, those domestic foes of the soul; if after all this we are desirous of gaining a glimpse of the surpassing simplicity and ineffable union of this occult and astonishing light, we must crowd all our conceptions together into the most profound indivisibility, and, opening the greatest eye of the soul, entreat this all-comprehending deity to approach: for then, preceded by unadorned Beauty, silently walking on the extremities of her shining feet, he will suddenly from his awful sanctuary rise to our view. But after such a vision, what can language announce concerning this transcendent object? That it is perfectly indistinct and void of number. “And,” as Damascius¹⁰⁴ beautifully observes, “since this is the case, we should consider whether it is proper to call this which belongs to it simplicity, απλοτης; something else, multiplicity πολλοτης; and something besides this, universality παντοτης. For that which is intelligible is one, many, all, that we may triply explain a nature which is one. But how can one nature be one and many? Because many is the infinite power of the one. But how can it be one and all? Because all is the every-way extended energy of the one. Nor yet is it to be called an energy, as if it was an extension of power to that which is external; nor power, as an extension of hyparxis abiding within; but again, it is necessary to call them three instead of one: for one appellation, as we have often testified, is by no means sufficient for an explanation of this order. And are all things then here indistinct? But how can this be easy to understand? For we have said that there are three principles consequent to each other; viz. father, power, and paternal intellect. But these in reality are neither one, nor three, nor one and at the same time three¹⁰⁵. But it is necessary that we should explain these by names and conceptions of this kind, through our penury in what is adapted to their nature, or rather through our desire of expressing something proper on the occasion. For as we denominate this triad one, and many, and all, and father, power, and paternal intellect, and again bound, infinite, and mixed—so likewise we call it a monad, and the indefinite duad, and a triad, and a paternal nature composed from both these. And as in consequence of purifying our conceptions we reject the former appellations as unable to harmonize with the things themselves, we should likewise reject the latter on the same account.” Now from this remarkable passage in particular, and from all that has been said respecting the intelligible triad, it follows that the Platonic is totally different from the Christian trinity, since the former is a triad posterior to the first cause, who according to Plato is a principle transcendently exempt from all multitude, and is not coordinated or consubsistent with any being or beings whatever. A superficial reader indeed, who knows no more of Platonism than what he has gleaned from Cudworth’s Intellectual System, will be induced to think that the genuine Platonic trinity consists of the first cause, or the good, intellect, and soul, and that these three were considered by Plato as in a certain respect one. To such men as these it is necessary to observe, that a triad of principles distinct from each other, is a very different thing from a triad which may be considered as a whole, and of which each of the three is a part. But the good or the one is according to Plato superessential, as is evident from the first hypothesis of this Dialogue, and from the sixth Book of his Republic. It is impossible, therefore, that the good can be consubsistent with intellect, which is even posterior to being, and much less with soul, which is subordinate to intellect. And hence the good, intellect, and soul, do not form a consubsistent triad.
[101] Vid. Excerpta ex Damascio, a Wolfio, p. 232.
[102] Let the reader be careful to remember that the one of the Gods is their superessential characteristic.
[103] In Plat. Theol. lib. 3. p. 168.
[104] Vid. Excerpta, p. 228.
[105] Αλλ’ αυται μεν ουκ εισι κατα αληθειαν, ουτε μιαν, ουτε τρεις, ουτε μιά άμα και τρεις.
[106] Parmenides after the intelligible triads generates the intelligible and at the same time intellectual orders, and demonstrates, by subsequent conclusions, a continuous progression of the Gods. For the series and connection of the words with each other imitate the indissoluble order of things, which always conjoins the media with the extremes, and through middle genera advances to the ultimate progressions of beings. As there are then three intelligible triads, consisting of one being, whole itself, and infinite mul- titude, so three intelligible and at the same time intellectual triads present themselves to our view, viz. number itself, whole itself, and the perfect itself. Hence, number here proceeds from one being; but that which is a whole from whole itself in intelligibles; and the perfect itself from infinite multitude. For in the intelligible triad the infinite was omnipotent and perfect, comprehending all things, and subsisting as incomprehensible in itself. The perfect, therefore, is analogous to that which is omnipotent and all-perfect, possessing an intellectual perfection, and such as is posterior to primary and intelligible perfection. But the whole, which is both intelligible and intellectual, is allied to that which is intelligible, yet it differs from it so far as the latter possesses wholeness according to the one union of the one being; but the one of the former appears to be essentially a whole of parts characterized by unity, and its being a composite of many beings. But again, number must be considered as analogous to one being. For one being subsists among intelligibles occultly, intelligibly, and paternally; but here, in conjunction with difference, it generates number, which establishes the separation of forms and reasons. For difference first exhibits itself in this order; but subsists among intelligibles as power and the duad. And in this order it is a maternal and prolific fountain. With great propriety, therefore, does Plato from the summit of this order begin his negations of the one: for the many subsist here, through that difference which divides being and the one; because the whole, which is denied of the one, is intellectual and not intelligible. The negation, therefore, asserts that the one is not a whole, on which account the affirmation must be, the one is a whole. For intelligible whole is one being, but not the one. And he thus denies the many, “The one is not many,” the opposite to which is, the one is many. But the multitude of intelligibles, and not the one, is the proximate cause of the many. And, in short, the whole of that which is intelligible is characterized by one being. For both being and the one are contained in this, and are naturally conjoined with each other; and being is here the most of all things characterized by the one. But when each of these, viz. being, and the one, proceeds into multitude, the one becomes distant from the other, and evinces a greater diversity of nature; but each is distributed into multitude through the prolific nature of difference itself. And thus it is from hence evident, that the intelligible and at the same time intellectual orders proceed with subjection analogous to the intelligible triads. In the notes to the Phædrus it will be shown how Socrates leads us to this order of Gods.
[107] By these words Plato indicates the summit of the intellectual order, or in other words, according to the Grecian theology, Saturn. For, so far as he is a total intellect, his energy is directed to himself, but so far as he is in the intelligibles prior to himself, he establishes the all-perfect intelligence of himself in another. For subsistence in another here signifies that which is better than the subsistence of a thing in itself. Saturn, therefore, being intelligible as among intellectuals, establishes himself in the intelligible triads of the orders prior to him, from which he is also filled with united and occult good; and on this account he is said to be in another. But because he is a pure and immaterial deity, he is converted to himself, and shuts up all his powers in himself. For the parts of this deity, when he is considered as an intellectual wholeness, are more partial powers, which hasten indeed to a progression from him as their father, but are established in, and on all sides comprehended by, him. And this wholeness is a deity which connectedly contains the intelligible parts in itself, being parturient indeed with intellectual multitude, and stably generating all things. It also receives into its bosom, and again gathers into itself its progeny, and, as the more tragical of fables say, devours and deposits its offspring in itself. For its progeny are twofold; some being, as it were, resolved into itself, and others separated from it.
[108] The middle of the intellectual order, viz. Rhea, is here indicated by Plato: for all life, according to Plato, is motion; since soul is self-motive because it is self-vital; and intellect is through this moved, because it possesses the most excellent life. The first vivific cause, therefore, of the intellectual Gods is primarily allotted motion. If this cause, however, was the first and highest life, it would be requisite to call it motion, and not that which is moved; but since it is life as in intellectuals, and is filled from exempt life, it is at the same time motion and that which is moved. Very properly, therefore, does Parmenides evince that the one in this order is moved, because it proceeds from the causes of all life which rank above it, and is analogous to the middle centre of intelligibles, and to the middle triad of the intelligible and at the same time intellectual order; which triad Socrates in the Phædrus calls heaven, because the whole of it is life and motion. When Parmenides, therefore, says that the one is both moved and stands still, by motion he indicates the vivific hyparxis of the Gods, and the generative fountain of wholes; but by permanency coordinated with motion, that pure monad which contains the middle centres of the triad of guardian deities, or, in other words, one of the Curetes consubsistent with Rhea. So that the motion in this order is the fountain of the life which proceeds to all things; and the permanency establishes the whole vivific fountain in itself, but is thence filled with the prolific rivers of life. Hence Parmenides, delivering to us the progression of these two, shows that that which is moved is generated from that which is in another, but that which is permanent from that which is in itself. For motion in this order is better than permanency. For as that which is in another is causally more antient than that which is in itself, so here that which is moved than that which is perma- nent. Hence, according to the Grecian theology, the Curetes are powers subordinate to Saturn, Rhea, and Jupiter, the parents of the intellectual order, and are contained in them.
[109] Parmenides here delivers the symbols of that deity who subsists at the extremity of the intellectual order, viz. Jupiter, the artificer of the universe. We shall find, therefore, that the number of the conclusions is here doubled. For the one is no longer shown to be alone same or different, as it was shown to be in itself and in another, and to be moved and be permanent; but it is now demonstrated to be the same with itself, and different from itself, and different from others, and the same with others. But this twice perfectly accords with the demiurgic monad, both according to other theologists, and to Socrates in the Cratylus, who says that the demiurgic name is composed from two words. In the next place the multitude of causes is here separated, and all the monads of the Gods appear according to the demiurgic progression. For the paternal order of the demiurgus, the prolific power which is coordinate with him, the undefiled monad which is the cause of exempt providence, the fountain distributive of wholes, and all the orders in conjunction with these which subsist about the demiurgus, according to which he produces and preserves all things, and, being exempt from his productions, is firmly established in himself, and separates his own kingdom from the united government of his father—all these are here unfolded into light. Hence that which Parmenides first demonstrates concerning the nature of the one, viz. that it is the same with itself, represents to us the monadic and paternal peculiarity, according to which Jupiter is the demiurgus. For the term same is a manifest sign of his proper or paternal hyparxis: for being one, and the exempt demiurgus and father of wholes, he establishes his proper union in himself. This term also remarkably shows the uniform nature, and the alliance of this deity with bound. But his being the same with others, is the illustrious good of prolific power, and of a cause proceeding to all things, and pervading through all things without impediment. For he is present to all things which he produces, and is in all things which he adorns, pre-establishing in himself an essence generative of wholes. Hence bound and the infinite subsist in him fabricatively; the former consisting in a sameness separate from others, and the latter in a power which generates others. The assertion also that he is different from others, manifests his undefiled purity, and his transcendency exempt from all secondary natures. Hence by his never ceasing to impart good, by his providence, and by his generating things subordinate, he is the same with them: for he is participated by them, and fills his progeny with his own providential care. But by his purity, his undefiled power, and his undeviating energies, he is separate from wholes, and is not consubsistent with others. And as Saturn, the first king of the intellectual Gods, is allotted a nature which does not verge to matter, through that pure monad or guard which is united to him, viz. the first of the Curetes; and as the vivific goddess Rhea possesses her stable and undeviating power from the second of the guardian deities; so also the demiurgic intellect guards a transcendency separate from others, and a union withdrawing itself from multitude, through the third monad of the Curetes, who are the leaders of purity. That deity therefore remains who is the seventh of these intellectual monads, who is conjoined with all of them, and energizes in conjunction with all, but particularly unfolds himself into light in the demiurgic order. This deity, which is celebrated by antient theologists as Ocean, Parmenides indicates when he asserts that the one is different from itself. As, therefore, the demiurgus is the same with himself through paternal union, so he is separated from himself and his father, according to this difference. Whence, therefore, does Parmenides say that the demiurgus derives this power? We reply, From being in himself, and in another. For these things were unitedly in the first father, but separately in the third. Hence separation there subsists according to cause, but in the demiurgus it shines forth, and unfolds his power into light. For that the cause of division subsists in a certain respect in the first father, Parmenides himself evinces in the first hypothesis, when he says, that every thing which is in itself is in a certain respect two, and is separated from itself. But the duad is there indeed occultly, but here it subsists more clearly, where all intellectual multitude is apparent. For difference is the progeny of the duad, which is there firmly established. This difference, therefore, separates the demiurgic intellect from the Gods prior to it, and also separates from each other the monads which it contains. Hence Parmenides, when he divides the signs of fabrication, shows that the idioms of the undefiled and divisive monads are in the middle of them, so far as they also in a certain respect are comprehended in the one fabrication of things. For the first of the conclusions demonstrates that the one is the same with itself; the second, that it is different from itself; the third, that it is different from others; and the fourth, that it is the same with others; conjoining the divisive power with the paternal union, and connecting the providential cause of secondary natures—with a transcendency separate from them. For in the Gods it is necessary that union should subsist prior to separation, and a purity unmingled with things secondary prior to a providential care of them, through which the divinities being every where are also no where, being present to all things are exempt from all things, and being all things are no one of their progeny. I only add, that the reader will find the theology concerning Saturn, delivered by Plato in perfect conformity to what has been above asserted of this deity, in the Cratylus, Politicus, and Gorgias; that concerning Rhea, in the Cratylus; concerning Jupiter in the Timæus, Critias, Philebus, Protagoras, and Politicus; and concerning the Curetes in the Laws.
[110] After the intellectual the supermundane order of Gods follows, who are also called by the Grecian theologists assimilative leaders. Sameness and difference, therefore, as we have before observed, define the idiom of the demiurgic order, and of the Gods coordinated with it. But since the whole order of the assimilative Gods is suspended from the demiurgic monad, subsists about, and is converted to it, and is perfected from it, it is necessary to refer the signs of this order to the demiurgic series, and thence to impart to them a generation proceeding according to order and measure. As this order of Gods, therefore, according to the Grecian theologists, assimilates sensibles to intellectuals, and produces all things posterior to itself according to an imitation of causes, it is the primary cause of similitude to things subordinate to itself. Hence it is also the cause of dissimilitude coordinate with similitude: for all things which participate of the similar necessarily also participate of the dissimilar. Similitude also in this order has a subsistence analogous to paternal causes, and to those which convert things to their principles; but dissimilitude is analogous to prolific causes, and which preside over multitude and division. Hence similitude is collective, but dissimilitude separative of things which proceed. But that the idioms of these Gods proceed from the demiurgic monad, and the signs which there presubsist, Parmenides sufficiently demonstrates: for demiurgic sameness and difference are the causes, as he says, of the similitude and dissimilitude of this order. The reader will find the theology relative to this order delivered by Plato, conformably to what is here said, in the Politicus and the Laws, the Gorgias and the Cratylus.
[111] That order of Gods called by the Greek theologists απολυτοι or liberated, succeeds the supermundane order, and is here indicated by Plato by the one touching itself and oth- ers. For all the divine genera after the demiurgic monad double their energies, since their energy is naturally directed both to themselves and to other things posterior to themselves, rejoicing in progressions, being subservient to the providence of secondary natures, and calling forth the supernatural, impartible, and all-perfect producing power of their father, and deducing it to subordinate beings. This contact, therefore, with and separation from inferior natures clearly represents to us a liberated idiom. For touching indicates a providence allied to and coordinate with us; and not to touch, a transcendency exempt and separate from others. Hence these epithets admirably accord with the liberated genus of Gods, who are said to be at the same time conjoined with the celestial divinities, and expanded above them, and to proceed to all things with unrestrained energy. Hence the Fates, as we have shown in a note on the 10th book of the Republic, belong to this order; for they are said by Socrates to touch the celestial circulations. In the Cratylus also, the mundane Core or Proserpine, who governs the whole of generation, is said to touch flowing essence, and through this contact to have been called Phersephatta. To which we may add, that in the Phædo, where we are taught what the mode is of the cathartic life of souls, Socrates says, that the soul, when it is not conversant with the body, passes into contact with being; through all which Plato indicates that contact is the business of an inseparable providence, and coordinate inspection; and that the negation of this is the employment of a dominion separate, unrestrained, and exempt from the natures that are governed. These liberated Gods are the same with those which the Chaldæans call azonic, and which according to them are Serapis, Bacchus, the series of Osiris, and of Apollo, as we are informed by Psellus in his exposition of Chaldaic dogmas. He adds, “they are called azonic, because they rule without restraint over the zones, and are established above the apparent Gods.”
[112] The equal and unequal are characteristic of the mundane Gods, as we have shown in the notes on the first hypothesis, to which we refer the reader.
[113] Younger and older are characteristic of divine souls. See the notes on that part of the first hypothesis which corresponds to this part of the second.
[114] The original is μη εστι μη ον, and this is literally is not non-being. But the meaning of this difficult passage is as follows: Any remission of being is attended with non-being, which is the same with is not; and if any thing of is be taken away, is not is immediately introduced, and so it will immediately become is not non-being, that is, it is being.
[115] For between μη ειναι and ειναι ον, ειναι μη ον must subsist as a medium.
[116] So το μη ον μη ειναι is the medium between το ειναι ον and το μη ειναι ον: for το μη ειναι μη is the same as το ειναι, and connects with το ειναι ον; and το μη ον with το μη ειναι ον. Thompson had not the least glimpse of this meaning, as may be seen from his version.