Παίζοντες δὴ τὴν πρώτην πρὶν ἐπιχειρεῖν σπουδάζειν εἰ λέγοιμεν πάντα θεωρίας ἐφίεσθαι καὶ εἰς τέλος τοῦτο βλέπειν, οὐ μόνον ἔλλογα ἀλλὰ καὶ ἄλογα ζῷα καὶ τὴν ἐν τοῖς φυτοῖς φύσιν καὶ τὴν ταῦτα γεννῶσαν γῆν, καὶ πάντα τυγχάνειν καθ’ ὅσον οἷόν τε αὐτοῖς, ἄλλα δὲ ἄλλως καὶ θεωρεῖν καὶ τυγχάνειν καὶ τὰ μὲν ἀληθῶς, τὰ δὲ μίμησιν καὶ εἰκόνα τούτου λαμβάνοντα· ἆρ’ ἄν τις ἀνάσχοιτο τὸ παράδοξον τοῦ λόγου; ἢ πρὸς ἡμᾶς αὐτοῦ γινομένου κίνδυνος οὐδεὶς ἐν τῷ παίζειν τὰ αὐτῶν γενήσεται. ἆρ’ οὖν καὶ ἡμεῖς παίζοντες ἐν τῷ παρόντι θεωροῦμεν;
Suppose, playfully, before we set about being serious, we say that all things aspire to contemplation and look to it as their goal—not only rational living beings but irrational ones too, and the nature in plants, and the earth that produces them—and that all attain it as far as they can, each in its own way, contemplating and attaining, some truly, others by taking an imitation and image of it. Would anyone put up with so paradoxical an argument? Or rather, since the discussion is among ourselves, there will be no danger in playing with our own ideas. So are we too contemplating now, as we play?
ἢ καὶ ἡμεῖς καὶ πάντες ὅσοι παίζουσι τοῦτο ποιοῦσι καὶ τούτου γε παίζουσιν ἐφιέμενοι καὶ κινδυνεύει, εἴτε τις παῖς εἴτε ἀνὴρ παίζει ἢ σπουδάζει, θεωρίας ἕνεκεν ὁ μὲν σπουδάζειν, ὁ δὲ παίζειν, καὶ πρᾶξις πᾶσα εἰς θεωρίαν τὴν σπουδὴν ἔχειν, ἡ μὲν ἀναγκαία καὶ ἐπιπλέον τὴν θεωρίαν ἕλκουσα πρὸς τὸ ἔξω, ἡ δὲ ἑκούσιος λεγομένη ἐπ’ ἔλαττον μέν, ὅμως δὲ καὶ αὐτὴ ἐφέσει θεωρίας γινομένη. ἀλλὰ ταῦτα μὲν ὕστερον· νῦν δὲ λέγωμεν περί τε γῆς αὐτῆς καὶ δένδρων καὶ ὅλως φυτῶν τίς αὐτῶν ἡ θεωρία, καὶ πῶς τὰ παρ’ αὐτῆς ποιούμενα καὶ γεννώμενα ἐπὶ τὴν τῆς θεωρίας ἀνάξομεν ἐνέργειαν, καὶ πῶς ἡ φύσις, ἣν ἀφάνταστόν φασι καὶ ἄλογον εἶναι, θεωρίαν τε ἐν αὑτῇ ἔχει καὶ [πῶς] ἃ ποιεῖ διὰ θεωρίαν ποιεῖ, ἣν οὐκ ἔχει.
Perhaps both we and everyone who plays are doing this; at any rate it is what they aspire to as they play. And it may well be that whether a child or a man is playing or being serious, the one is serious and the other plays for the sake of contemplation, and that every action is seriously directed toward contemplation: necessary action drags contemplation further toward what is outside, while so-called voluntary action does so less, but it too arises from a desire for contemplation. But all this later. Now let us speak about the earth itself, and trees, and plants in general: what their contemplation is; how we shall trace what is made and generated by it back to the activity of contemplation; and how nature, which they say lacks imagination and reason, has contemplation in itself and makes what it makes through contemplation, which it does not have.
ὅτι μὲν οὖν οὔτε χεῖρες ἐνταῦθα οὔτε πόδες οὔτε τι ὄργανον ἐπακτὸν ἢ σύμφυτον, ὕλης δὲ δεῖ, ἐφ’ ἧς ποιήσει, καὶ ἣν ἐν εἴδει ποιήσει, παντί που δῆλον. δεῖ δὲ καὶ τὸ μοχλεύειν ἀφελεῖν ἐκ τῆς φυσικῆς ποιήσεως. ποῖος γὰρ ὠθισμὸς ἢ τίς μοχλεία χρώματα ποικίλα καὶ παντοδαπὰ καὶ σχήματα ποιεῖ; ἐπεὶ οὐδὲ οἱ κηροπλάσται, εἰς οὓς δὴ καὶ βλέποντες ᾠήθησαν τὴν τῆς φύσεως δημιουργίαν τοιαύτην εἶναι, χρώματα δύνανται ποιεῖν μὴ χρώματα ἀλλαχόθεν ἐπάγοντες οἷς ποιοῦσιν.
That there are no hands here, or feet, or any instrument added from outside or grown on, but that nature needs matter to work on and to bring into form, is surely obvious to everyone. We must also remove levering from nature’s making. For what pushing, what levering, produces colors of every variety and kind, and shapes? Even wax-modelers—whom some people looked at and supposed that nature’s craftsmanship was like theirs—cannot make colors unless they bring colors from elsewhere to what they are making.
ἀλλὰ γὰρ ἐχρῆν συννοοῦντας ὡς καὶ ἐπὶ τῶν τὰς τέχνας τὰς τοιαύτας μετιόντων δεῖ τι ἐν αὐτοῖς μένειν, καθ’ ὃ μένον διὰ χειρῶν ποιήσουσιν ἃ αὐτῶν ἔργα, ἐπὶ τὸ τοιοῦτον ἀνελθεῖν τῆς φύσεως καὶ αὐτοὺς καὶ συνεῖναι, ὡς μένειν δεῖ καὶ ἐνταῦθα τὴν δύναμιν τὴν οὐ διὰ χειρῶν ποιοῦσαν καὶ πᾶσαν μένειν. οὐ γὰρ δὴ δεῖται τῶν μὲν ὡς μενόντων, τῶν δὲ ὡς κινουμένων — ἡ γὰρ ὕλη τὸ κινούμενον, αὐτῆς δὲ οὐδὲν κινούμενον — ἢ ἐκεῖνο οὐκ ἔσται τὸ κινοῦν πρώτως, οὐδὲ ἡ φύσις τοῦτο, ἀλλὰ τὸ ἀκίνητον τὸ ἐν τῷ ὅλῳ. ὁ μὲν δὴ λόγος, φαίη ἄν τις, ἀκίνητος, αὐτὴ δὲ ἄλλη παρὰ τὸν λόγον καὶ κινουμένη.
But they ought to have reflected that even in those who practice such crafts there must be something that remains within them, by virtue of which, as it remains, they will make their works with their hands. Then they should have gone up to the corresponding thing in nature, and understood that here too the power that makes, not with hands, must remain, and remain whole. For it does not need some parts that remain and others that move—matter is what is moved, and nothing of nature is moved—or else that moving part will not be the first mover, nor will nature be this, but rather what is unmoved in the whole. “The rational principle, then,” someone might say, “is unmoved, but nature itself is different from the rational principle and is moved.”
ἀλλ’ εἰ μὲν πᾶσαν φήσουσι, καὶ ὁ λόγος· εἰ δέ τι αὐτῆς ἀκίνητον, καὶ τοῦτο ὁ λόγος. καὶ γὰρ εἶδος αὐτὴν δεῖ εἶναι καὶ οὐκ ἐξ ὕλης καὶ εἴδους· τί γὰρ δεῖ αὐτῇ ὕλης θερμῆς ἢ ψυχρᾶς; ἡ γὰρ ὑποκειμένη καὶ δημιουργουμένη ὕλη ἥκει τοῦτο φέρουσα, ἢ γίνεται τοιαύτη ἡ μὴ ποιότητα ἔχουσα λογωθεῖσα. οὐ γὰρ πῦρ δεῖ προσελθεῖν, ἵνα πῦρ ἡ ὕλη γένηται, ἀλλὰ λόγον· ὃ καὶ σημεῖον οὐ μικρὸν τοῦ ἐν τοῖς ζῴοις καὶ ἐν τοῖς φυτοῖς τοὺς λόγους εἶναι τοὺς ποιοῦντας καὶ τὴν φύσιν εἶναι λόγον, ὃς ποιεῖ λόγον ἄλλον γέννημα αὑτοῦ δόντα μέν τι τῷ ὑποκειμένῳ μένοντα δ’ αὐτόν.
But if they say all of nature is moved, then the rational principle is too; and if some part of it is unmoved, that part is the rational principle. For nature must be a form, and not composed of matter and form. What need does it have of hot or cold matter? The matter that underlies and is worked on arrives bringing that with it; or matter that has no quality becomes such by being given rational form. For it is not fire that must come to matter for the matter to become fire, but a rational principle. And this is no small sign that in animals and plants it is the rational principles that make, and that nature is a rational principle which makes another rational principle, its offspring, which gives something to the substrate while itself remaining.
ὁ μὲν οὖν λόγος ὁ κατὰ τὴν μορφὴν τὴν ὁρωμένην ἔσχατος ἤδη καὶ νεκρὸς καὶ οὐκέτι ποιεῖν δύναται ἄλλον, ὁ δὲ ζωὴν ἔχων ὁ τοῦ ποιήσαντος τὴν μορφὴν ἀδελφὸς ὢν καὶ αὐτὸς τὴν αὐτὴν δύναμιν ἔχων ποιεῖ ἐν τῷ γεννωμένῳ.
The rational principle in the visible shape is the last; it is dead and can no longer make another. But the one that has life—the brother of the one that made the shape, and itself having the same power—makes in what comes into being.
πῶς οὖν ποιῶν καὶ οὕτως ποιῶν θεωρίας τινὸς ἂν ἐφάπτοιτο; ἤ, εἰ μένων ποιεῖ καὶ ἐν αὑτῷ μένων ἐστὶ λόγος, εἴη ἂν αὐτὸς θεωρία. ἡ μὲν γὰρ πρᾶξις γένοιτ’ ἂν κατὰ λόγον ἑτέρα οὖσα δηλονότι τοῦ λόγου· ὁ μέντοι λόγος καὶ αὐτὸς συνὼν τῇ πράξει καὶ ἐπιστατῶν οὐκ ἂν εἴη πρᾶξις. εἰ οὖν μὴ πρᾶξις ἀλλὰ λόγος, θεωρία· καὶ ἐπὶ παντὸς λόγου ὁ μὲν ἔσχατος ἐκ θεωρίας καὶ θεωρία οὕτως ὡς τεθεωρημένος, ὁ δὲ πρὸ τούτου πᾶς ὁ μὲν ἄλλος ἄλλως, ὁ μὴ ὡς φύσις ἀλλὰ ψυχή, ὁ δ’ ἐν τῇ φύσει καὶ ἡ φύσις. ἆρά γε καὶ αὐτὸς ἐκ θεωρίας; πάντως μὴν ἐκ θεωρίας· ἀλλ’ εἰ καὶ αὐτὸς τεθεωρηκὼς αὑτόν; ἢ πῶς; ἔστι μὲν γὰρ ἀποτέλεσμα θεωρίας καὶ θεωρήσαντός τινος.
How, then, could nature, making as it does, and making in this way, have any contact with contemplation? Well, if it makes while remaining, and remaining in itself is a rational principle, it would itself be contemplation. For action would come about according to a rational principle, and would clearly be other than the rational principle; but the rational principle itself, which accompanies the action and presides over it, would not be action. If, then, it is not action but a rational principle, it is contemplation. And with every rational principle, the last comes from contemplation and is contemplation in the sense of having been contemplated; while the whole principle before it is contemplation, one part in one way, another in another—the one which is not nature but soul, and the one in nature, which is nature. Does this one too come from contemplation? Certainly from contemplation. But is that because it has itself contemplated itself? Or how? For it is the result of contemplation and of something that contemplated.
πῶς δὲ αὐτὴ ἔχει θεωρίαν; τὴν μὲν δὴ ἐκ λόγου οὐκ ἔχει· λέγω δ’ ἐκ λόγου τὸ σκοπεῖσθαι περὶ τῶν ἐν αὑτῇ. διὰ τί οὖν ζωή τις οὖσα καὶ λόγος καὶ δύναμις ποιοῦσα; ἆρ’ ὅτι τὸ σκοπεῖσθαί ἐστι τὸ μήπω ἔχειν; εἰ δὲ ἔχει, καὶ διὰ τοῦτο ὅτι ἔχει καὶ ποιεῖ. τὸ οὖν εἶναι αὐτῇ ὃ ἔστι τοῦτό ἐστι τὸ ποιεῖν αὐτῇ· ἔστι δὲ θεωρία καὶ θεώρημα, λόγος γάρ. τῷ οὖν εἶναι θεωρία καὶ θεώρημα καὶ λόγος τούτῳ καὶ ποιεῖ ᾗ ταῦτά ἐστιν. ἡ ποίησις ἄρα θεωρία ἡμῖν ἀναπέφανται· ἔστι γὰρ ἀποτέλεσμα θεωρίας μενούσης θεωρίας οὐκ ἄλλο τι πραξάσης, ἀλλὰ τῷ εἶναι θεωρία ποιησάσης.
But how does nature itself have contemplation? It does not, of course, have the kind that comes from reasoning—by “from reasoning” I mean examining what is in oneself. Why not, when it is a kind of life, a rational principle, and a power that makes? Is it because to examine is not yet to have? But nature does have, and precisely because it has, it also makes. For nature, then, being what it is, is making; and it is contemplation and object of contemplation, since it is a rational principle. So by being contemplation, object of contemplation and rational principle, it also makes, insofar as it is these. Making, then, has been revealed to us as contemplation. For it is the result of a contemplation that remains contemplation, that has done nothing else, but has made by being contemplation.
Nature speaks
Asked why it makes, nature answers that it contemplates in silence and its works simply appear.
καὶ εἴ τις δὲ αὐτὴν ἔροιτο τίνος ἕνεκα ποιεῖ, εἰ τοῦ ἐρωτῶντος ἐθέλοι ἐπαίειν καὶ λέγειν, εἴποι ἄν· ‘ἐχρῆν μὲν μὴ ἐρωτᾶν, ἀλλὰ συνιέναι καὶ αὐτὸν σιωπῇ, ὥσπερ ἐγὼ σιωπῶ καὶ οὐκ εἴθισμαι λέγειν. τί οὖν συνιέναι; ὅτι τὸ γενόμενόν ἐστι θέαμα ἐμὸν [ἐμοῦ] σιωπησάσης καὶ φύσει γενόμενον θεώρημα, καί μοι γενομένῃ ἐκ θεωρίας τῆς ὡδὶ τὴν φύσιν ἔχειν φιλοθεάμονα ὑπάρχει καὶ τὸ θεωροῦν μου θεώρημα ποιεῖ, ὥσπερ οἱ γεωμέτραι θεωροῦντες γράφουσιν· ἀλλ’ ἐμοῦ μὴ γραφούσης, θεωρούσης δέ, ὑφίστανται αἱ τῶν σωμάτων γραμμαὶ ὥσπερ ἐκπίπτουσαι. καί μοι τὸ τῆς μητρὸς καὶ τῶν γειναμένων ὑπάρχει πάθος· καὶ γὰρ ἐκεῖνοι εἰσὶν ἐκ θεωρίας καὶ ἡ γένεσις ἡ ἐμὴ ἐκείνων οὐδὲν πραξάντων, ἀλλ’ ὄντων μειζόνων λόγων καὶ θεωρούντων αὑτοὺς ἐγὼ γεγέννημαι.’ τί οὖν ταῦτα βούλεται;
And if someone asked nature why it makes, and if it were willing to listen to the questioner and to speak, it would say: “You ought not to ask, but to understand, yourself keeping silent, as I keep silent and am not in the habit of speaking. Understand what? That what comes into being is my spectacle [of me], made in my silence, an object of contemplation that comes into being by nature; and that since I came into being from contemplation of this kind, I have a nature that loves to contemplate. And what in me contemplates makes an object of contemplation, as geometers draw as they contemplate. But I do not draw; I contemplate, and the lines of bodies come into being as if they fell out of me. And I have the same experience as my mother and those who begot me: they too come from contemplation, and my birth came about without their doing anything; they are greater rational principles, and as they contemplate themselves I am born.” What does this mean?
ὡς ἡ λεγομένη φύσις ψυχὴ οὖσα, γέννημα ψυχῆς προτέρας δυνατώτερον ζώσης, ἡσυχῇ ἐν ἑαυτῇ θεωρίαν ἔχουσα οὐ πρὸς τὸ ἄνω οὐδ’ αὖ ἔτι πρὸς τὸ κάτω, στᾶσα δὲ ἐν ᾧ ἔστιν, ἐν τῇ αὑτῆς στάσει καὶ οἷον συναισθήσει, τῇ συνέσει ταύτῃ καὶ συναισθήσει τὸ μετ’ αὐτὴν εἶδεν ὡς οἷόν τε αὐτῇ καὶ οὐκέτι ἐζήτησεν ἄλλα θεώρημα ἀποτελέσασα ἀγλαὸν καὶ χάριεν. καὶ εἴ τις βούλεται σύνεσίν τινα ἢ αἴσθησιν αὐτῇ διδόναι, οὐχ οἵαν λέγομεν ἐπὶ τῶν ἄλλων τὴν αἴσθησιν ἢ τὴν σύνεσιν, ἀλλ’ οἷον εἴ τις τὴν τοῦ ὕπνου [τῇ] τοῦ ἐγρηγορότος προσεικάσειε.
That what is called nature, being a soul, the offspring of a prior soul that lives more powerfully, has contemplation quietly in itself, directed neither upward nor yet downward, but standing in what it is, in its own stillness and a sort of self-awareness. By this understanding and self-awareness it saw what comes after it, as far as it could, and sought nothing further, having produced an object of contemplation splendid and full of grace. And if someone wants to grant it some kind of understanding or perception, it is not the kind of perception or understanding we speak of in other things; it is as if one compared the awareness of someone asleep to that of someone awake.
θεωροῦσα γὰρ θεώρημα αὑτῆς ἀναπαύεται γενόμενον αὐτῇ ἐκ τοῦ ἐν αὑτῇ καὶ σὺν αὑτῇ μένειν καὶ θεώρημα εἶναι· καὶ θεωρία ἄψοφος, ἀμυδροτέρα δέ. ἑτέρα γὰρ αὐτῆς εἰς θέαν ἐναργεστέρα, ἡ δὲ εἴδωλον θεωρίας ἄλλης. ταύτῃ δὴ καὶ τὸ γεννηθὲν ὑπ’ αὐτῆς ἀσθενὲς παντάπασιν, ὅτι ἀσθενοῦσα θεωρία ἀσθενὲς θεώρημα ποιεῖ· ἐπεὶ καὶ ἄνθρωποι, ὅταν ἀσθενήσωσιν εἰς τὸ θεωρεῖν, σκιὰν θεωρίας καὶ λόγου τὴν πρᾶξιν ποιοῦνται. ὅτι γὰρ μὴ ἱκανὸν αὐτοῖς τὸ τῆς θεωρίας ὑπ’ ἀσθενείας ψυχῆς, λαβεῖν οὐ δυνάμενοι τὸ θέαμα ἱκανῶς καὶ διὰ τοῦτο οὐ πληρούμενοι, ἐφιέμενοι δὲ αὐτὸ ἰδεῖν, εἰς πρᾶξιν φέρονται, ἵνα ἴδωσιν, ὃ μὴ νῷ ἐδύναντο. ὅταν γοῦν ποιῶσι, καὶ αὐτοὶ ὁρᾶν βούλονται αὐτὸ καὶ θεωρεῖν καὶ αἰσθάνεσθαι καὶ τοὺς ἄλλους, ὅταν ἡ πρόθεσις αὐτοῖς ὡς οἷόν τε πρᾶξις ᾖ.
For contemplating its object of contemplation, it is at rest—an object that came to be for it from its remaining in and with itself and being an object of contemplation. And its contemplation is silent, but dimmer. For there is another contemplation clearer to look upon, and this one is an image of another contemplation. That is why what it generates is utterly weak: weak contemplation makes a weak object. Human beings too, when they are too weak for contemplating, make action a shadow of contemplation and rational principle. Because contemplating is beyond them through weakness of soul, since they cannot grasp the vision adequately and so are not filled, yet long to see it, they are carried into action, so that they may see what they could not see with intellect. At any rate, when they make something, they themselves want to see it and contemplate it, and want others to perceive it, whenever their intention is realized as far as possible in action.
πανταχοῦ δὴ ἀνευρήσομεν τὴν ποίησιν καὶ τὴν πρᾶξιν ἢ ἀσθένειαν θεωρίας ἢ παρακολούθημα ἀσθένειαν μέν, εἰ μηδέν τις ἔχοι μετὰ τὸ πραχθέν παρακολούθημα δέ, εἰ ἔχοι ἄλλο πρὸ τούτου κρεῖττον τοῦ ποιηθέντος θεωρεῖν. τίς γὰρ θεωρεῖν τὸ ἀληθινὸν δυνάμενος προηγουμένως ἔρχεται ἐπὶ τὸ εἴδωλον τοῦ ἀληθινοῦ; μαρτυροῦσι δὲ καὶ οἱ νωθέστεροι τῶν παίδων, οἳ πρὸς τὰς μαθήσεις καὶ θεωρίας ἀδυνάτως ἔχοντες ἐπὶ τὰς τέχνας καὶ τὰς ἐργασίας καταφέρονται.
Everywhere, then, we shall find that making and action are either a weakness of contemplation or a concomitant of it: a weakness, if one has nothing beyond what was done; a concomitant, if one has something else prior to it, better than what was made, to contemplate. For who, if able to contemplate what is true, goes first to the image of the true? The duller children bear witness to this too: unable to cope with learning and contemplation, they sink down to crafts and manual work.
Soul, action and contemplation
Soul’s contemplation generates in turn, and action is only a weaker contemplation aiming to see.
ἀλλὰ περὶ μὲν φύσεως εἰπόντες ὃν τρόπον θεωρία ἡ γέννησις, ἐπὶ τὴν ψυχὴν τὴν πρὸ ταύτης ἐλθόντες λέγωμεν, ὡς ἡ ταύτης θεωρία καὶ τὸ φιλομαθὲς καὶ τὸ ζητητικὸν καὶ ἡ ἐξ ὧν ἐγνώκει ὠδὶς καὶ τὸ πλῆρες πεποίηκεν αὐτὴν θεώρημα πᾶν γενομένην ἄλλο θεώρημα ποιῆσαι· οἷον ἡ τέχνη ποιεῖ, ὅταν ἑκάστη πλήρης ᾖ, ἄλλην οἵαν μικρὰν τέχνην ἐν παιδίῳ ἴνδαλμα ἔχοντι ἁπάντων· ἄλλως μέντοι ταῦτα ὥσπερ ἀμυδρὰ καὶ οὐ δυνάμενα βοηθεῖν ἑαυτοῖς θεάματα καὶ θεωρήματα. τὸ πρῶτον οὖν αὐτῆς ἄνω πρὸς τοῦ ἄνω ἀεὶ πληρούμενον καὶ ἐλλαμπόμενον μένει ἐκεῖ, τὸ δὲ τῇ τοῦ μεταλαβόντος πρώτῃ μεταλήψει μεταλαμβάνον πρόεισιν ἀεὶ ζωὴ ἐκ ζωῆς· [ζωῆς] ἐνέργεια γὰρ πανταχοῦ φθάνει καὶ οὐκ ἔστιν ὅτου ἀποστατεῖ.
Now that we have said in what way nature’s generating is contemplation, let us move on to the soul before nature and say this. Its contemplation, its love of learning and spirit of inquiry, its birth-pangs from what it had come to know, and its fullness, made it, once it had become wholly an object of contemplation, produce another object of contemplation—just as a craft, when it is full, makes another, a small craft as it were, in a young pupil who has an image of all of it. These, however, are spectacles and objects of contemplation of a different sort, dim, as it were, and unable to help themselves. The first part of soul, then, being above and always filled and illuminated by what is above, remains There; while the other part, sharing by the first sharing of what shared, goes forth always, life from life. For [life’s] activity reaches everywhere, and there is no place where it is absent.
προιοῦσα μέντοι ἐᾷ τὸ ἑαυτῆς πρόσθεν μέρος οὗ καταλέλοιπε μένειν· ἀπολιποῦσα γὰρ τὸ πρόσθεν οὐκέτι ἔσται πανταχοῦ, ἀλλ’ ἐν ᾧ τελευτᾷ μόνον. οὐκ ἴσον δὲ τὸ προιὸν τῷ μείναντι.
As it goes forth, however, it lets its earlier part remain where it left it; for if it abandoned what was before, it would no longer be everywhere, but only where it ends. But what goes forth is not equal to what remained.
εἰ οὖν πανταχοῦ δεῖ γίνεσθαι καὶ μὴ εἶναι ὅπου μὴ τὴν ἐνέργειαν τὴν αὐτῆς ἀεί τε τὸ πρότερον ἕτερον τοῦ ὑστέρου, ἥκει δὲ ἡ ἐνέργεια ἐκ θεωρίας ἢ πράξεως, πρᾶξις δὲ οὔπω ἦν — οὐ γὰρ οἷόν τε πρὸ θεωρίας — ἀνάγκη ἀσθενεστέραν μὲν ἑτέραν ἑτέρας εἶναι, πᾶσαν δὲ θεωρίαν· ὥστε τὴν κατὰ τὴν θεωρίαν πρᾶξιν δοκοῦσαν εἶναι τὴν ἀσθενεστάτην θεωρίαν εἶναι· ὁμογενὲς γὰρ ἀεὶ δεῖ τὸ γεννώμενον εἶναι, ἀσθενέστερον μὴν τῷ ἐξίτηλον καταβαῖνον γίνεσθαι. ἀψοφητὶ μὲν δὴ πάντα, ὅτι μηδὲν ἐμφανοῦς καὶ τῆς ἔξωθεν θεωρίας ἢ πράξεως δεῖται, καὶ ψυχὴ δὲ ἡ θεωροῦσα καὶ τὸ οὕτως θεωρῆσαν ἅτε ἐξωτέρω καὶ οὐχ ὡσαύτως τῷ πρὸ αὐτῆς τὸ μετ’ αὐτὴν ποιεῖ καὶ θεωρία τὴν θεωρίαν ποιεῖ. καὶ γὰρ οὐκ ἔχει πέρας ἡ θεωρία οὐδὲ τὸ θεώρημα.
Suppose, then, that it must come to be everywhere, and there must be nowhere without its activity; that what is earlier is always different from what is later; that activity comes from contemplation or from action; and that action did not yet exist, since it cannot come before contemplation. Then necessarily one activity is weaker than another, but all is contemplation; so that what seems to be action in accordance with contemplation is the weakest contemplation. For what is generated must always be of the same kind, though weaker, because it fades as it descends. All of it goes on without a sound, because it needs no visible contemplation or action from outside; and the soul that contemplates, and what has contemplated in this way, being further out and not like what is before it, makes what comes after it, and contemplation makes contemplation. For contemplation has no limit, nor does its object.
διὰ τοῦτο δὲ πανταχοῦ. ποῦ γὰρ οὐχί; ἐπεὶ καὶ ἐν πάσῃ ψυχῇ τὸ αὐτό. οὐ γὰρ περιγέγραπται μεγέθει. οὐ μὴν ὡσαύτως ἐν πᾶσιν, ὥστε οὐδὲ ἐν παντὶ μέρει ψυχῆς ὁμοίως. διὸ ὁ ἡνίοχος τοῖς ἵπποις δίδωσιν ὃ εἶδεν, οἱ δὲ λαβόντες δῆλον ὅτι ὀρέγοιντο ἂν ὧν εἶδεν· ἔλαβον γὰρ οὐ πᾶν. ὀρεγόμενοι δὲ εἰ πράττοιεν, οὗ ὀρέγονται ἕνεκα πράττουσιν. ἦν δὲ θεώρημα καὶ θεωρία ἐκεῖνο.
That is why it is everywhere. For where is it not? It is the same in every soul as well, since it is not bounded by magnitude. Yet it is not present in all in the same way, and so not in every part of soul alike either. That is why the charioteer gives the horses what he has seen, and they, receiving it, would clearly long for what he saw, since they did not receive all of it. And if they act out of longing, they act for the sake of what they long for. And that was an object of contemplation, and contemplation.
ἡ ἄρα πρᾶξις ἕνεκα θεωρίας καὶ θεωρήματος· ὥστε καὶ τοῖς πράττουσιν ἡ θεωρία τέλος, καὶ οἷον ἐξ εὐθείας ὃ μὴ ἠδυνήθησαν λαβεῖν τοῦτο περιπλανώμενοι ἑλεῖν ζητοῦσι. καὶ γὰρ αὖ ὅταν τύχωσιν οὗ βούλονται, ὃ γενέσθαι ἠθέλησαν, οὐχ ἵνα μὴ γνῶσιν, ἀλλ’ ἵνα γνῶσι καὶ παρὸν ἴδωσιν ἐν ψυχῇ, δῆλον ὅτι κείμενον θεατόν. ἐπεὶ καὶ ἀγαθοῦ χάριν πράττουσι· τοῦτο δὲ οὐχ ἵνα ἔξω αὐτῶν, οὐδ’ ἵνα μὴ ἔχωσιν, ἀλλ’ ἵνα ἔχωσι τὸ ἐκ τῆς πράξεως ἀγαθόν. τοῦτο δὲ ποῦ; ἐν ψυχῇ. ἀνέκαμψεν οὖν πάλιν ἡ πρᾶξις εἰς θεωρίαν· ὃ γὰρ ἐν ψυχῇ λαμβάνει λόγῳ οὔσῃ, τί ἂν ἄλλο ἢ λόγος σιωπῶν εἴη; καὶ μᾶλλον, ὅσῳ μᾶλλον.
Action, then, is for the sake of contemplation and its object; so that for people of action too contemplation is the goal, and what they could not grasp directly they try to catch by wandering round about. And again, when they get what they want, what they wanted to bring about, it is not so as not to know it, but so as to know it and see it present in the soul—clearly as something laid up there to be looked at. For they act for the sake of a good; and this not so that it may be outside them, nor so that they may not have it, but so that they may have the good that comes from the action. And where is that? In the soul. So action has bent back again to contemplation. For what one receives in the soul, which is a rational principle, what could it be but a silent rational principle? And the more so, the more it is so.
τότε γὰρ καὶ ἡσυχίαν ἄγει καὶ οὐδὲν ζητεῖ ὡς πληρωθεῖσα, καὶ ἡ θεωρία ἡ ἐν τῷ τοιούτῳ τῷ πιστεύειν ἔχειν εἴσω κεῖται. καὶ ὅσῳ ἐναργεστέρα ἡ πίστις, ἡσυχαιτέρα καὶ ἡ θεωρία, ᾗ μᾶλλον εἰς ἓν ἄγει, καὶ τὸ γινῶσκον ὅσῳ γινώσκει — ἤδη γὰρ σπουδαστέον — εἰς ἓν τῷ γνωσθέντι ἔρχεται. εἰ γὰρ δύο, τὸ μὲν ἄλλο, τὸ δὲ ἄλλο ἔσται· ὥστε οἷον παράκειται καὶ τὸ διπλοῦν τοῦτο οὔπω ᾠκείωται, οἷον ὅταν ἐνόντες λόγοι ἐν ψυχῇ μηδὲν ποιῶσι.
For then the soul is at rest and seeks nothing, as having been filled, and the contemplation in such a soul lies within, through its confidence that it possesses. And the clearer the confidence, the quieter the contemplation, as it leads further into one; and the knower, insofar as it knows—now we must be serious—comes into one with what is known. For if they are two, the one will be one thing and the other another, so that they lie side by side, as it were, and this doubleness has not yet been made its own—as when rational principles present in the soul do nothing.
διὸ δεῖ μὴ ἔξωθεν τὸν λόγον εἶναι, ἀλλ’ ἑνωθῆναι τῇ ψυχῇ τοῦ μανθάνοντος, ἕως ἂν οἰκεῖον εὕρῃ. ἡ μὲν οὖν ψυχή, ὅταν οἰκειωθῇ καὶ διατεθῇ ὁμοίως, προφέρει καὶ προχειρίζεται· ὃ γὰρ πρώτως εἶχε καὶ καταμανθάνει, καὶ τῇ προχειρίσει οἷον ἑτέρα αὑτῆς γίνεται, καὶ διανοουμένη βλέπει ὡς ἄλλο ὂν ἄλλο· καίτοι καὶ αὐτὴ λόγος ἦν καὶ οἷον νοῦς, ἀλλ’ ὁρῶν ἄλλο. ἔστι γὰρ οὐ πλήρης, ἀλλ’ ἐλλείπει τῷ πρὸ αὐτῆς· ὁρᾷ μέντοι καὶ αὐτὴ ἡσύχως ἃ προφέρει. ἃ μὲν γὰρ προήνεγκεν, οὐκέτι προφέρει, ἃ δὲ προφέρει, τῷ ἐλλιπεῖ προφέρει εἰς ἐπίσκεψιν καταμανθάνουσα ὃ ἔχει. ἐν δὲ τοῖς πρακτικοῖς ἐφαρμόττει ἃ ἔχει τοῖς ἔξω.
That is why the rational principle must not be outside, but united with the soul of the learner, until it finds it its own. Now the soul, once it has made it its own and is disposed accordingly, still brings it forth and has it at hand; for what it had first, it also comes to learn thoroughly, and by having it at hand it becomes, as it were, other than it, and in discursive thought it looks at it as one thing at another. And yet the soul itself was a rational principle and a sort of intellect—but one seeing something other. For it is not full, but falls short of what is before it. Yet it too sees quietly what it brings forth. What it has brought forth, it no longer brings forth; and what it does bring forth, it brings forth through its deficiency, for examination, coming to learn thoroughly what it has. In people of action, it fits what it has to what is outside.
καὶ τῷ μὲν μᾶλλον ἔχειν ἢ ἡ φύσις ἡσυχαιτέρα, καὶ τῷ πλέον θεωρητικὴ μᾶλλον, τῷ δὲ μὴ τελέως ἐφιεμένη μᾶλλον ἔχειν τὴν τοῦ θεωρηθέντος καταμάθησιν καὶ θεωρίαν τὴν ἐξ ἐπισκέψεως. καὶ ἀπολείπουσα δὲ καὶ ἐν ἄλλοις γινομένη, εἶτ’ ἐπανιοῦσα πάλιν, θεωρεῖ τῷ ἀπολειφθέντι αὑτῆς μέρει· ἡ δὲ στᾶσα ἐν αὑτῇ ἧττον τοῦτο ποιεῖ. διὸ ὁ σπουδαῖος λελόγισται ἤδη καὶ τὸ παρ’ αὑτοῦ πρὸς ἄλλον ἀποφαίνει· πρὸς δὲ αὑτὸν ὄψις. ἤδη γὰρ οὗτος πρὸς τὸ ἓν καὶ πρὸς τὸ ἥσυχον οὐ μόνον τῶν ἔξω, ἀλλὰ καὶ πρὸς αὑτόν, καὶ πάντα εἴσω.
By having more than nature, soul is quieter, and by having more fully it is more contemplative; but by not having perfectly, it longs all the more for a thorough learning of what it has contemplated, and for the contemplation that comes from examination. And leaving itself and coming to be in other things, and then coming back again, it contemplates with the part of itself it left behind; but the soul that stands within itself does this less. That is why the good man has already finished reasoning, and declares what comes from himself to another; but to himself he is vision. For he is already directed toward unity and toward quiet—not only from things outside but in relation to himself—and everything is within.
ὅτι μὲν οὖν πάντα τά τε ὡς ἀληθῶς ὄντα ἐκ θεωρίας καὶ θεωρία, καὶ τὰ ἐξ ἐκείνων γενόμενα θεωρούντων ἐκείνων καὶ αὐτὰ θεωρήματα, τὰ μὲν αἰσθήσει τὰ δὲ γνώσει ἢ δόξῃ, καὶ αἱ πράξεις τὸ τέλος ἔχουσιν εἰς γνῶσιν καὶ ἡ ἔφεσις γνώσεως καὶ αἱ γεννήσεις ἀπὸ θεωρίας εἰς ἀποτελεύτησιν εἴδους καὶ θεωρήματος ἄλλου, καὶ ὅλως μιμήματα ὄντα ἕκαστα τῶν ποιούντων θεωρήματα ποιεῖ καὶ εἴδη, καὶ αἱ γινόμεναι ὑποστάσεις μιμήσεις ὄντων οὖσαι [τὰ] ποιοῦντα δεικνῦσι τέλος ποιούμενα οὐ τὰς ποιήσεις οὐδὲ τὰς πράξεις, ἀλλὰ τὸ ἀποτέλεσμα ἵνα θεωρηθῇ, καὶ τοῦτο καὶ αἱ διανοήσεις ἰδεῖν θέλουσι καὶ ἔτι πρότερον αἱ αἰσθήσεις, αἷς τέλος ἡ γνῶσις, καὶ ἔτι πρὸ τούτων ἡ φύσις τὸ θεώρημα τὸ ἐν αὐτῇ καὶ τὸν λόγον ποιεῖ ἄλλον λόγον ἀποτελοῦσα, [ὧν] τὰ μὲν ἦν αὐτόθεν λαβεῖν, τὰ δ’ ὑπέμνησεν ὁ λόγος, δῆλόν που.
It is clear enough, I think, that all things are like this. The things that truly are come from contemplation and are contemplation; and the things that come into being from them as they contemplate are themselves objects of contemplation, some for perception, others for knowledge or opinion. Actions have knowledge as their goal, and their desire is desire for knowledge; and acts of generating start from contemplation and end in a form and another object of contemplation. In general, each of these things, being imitations of what makes them, makes objects of contemplation and forms; and the realities that come into being, being imitations of beings, show that what makes them has as its goal not the making or the action but the finished product, so that it may be contemplated. This is what discursive thinking wants to see as well, and before it perception, whose goal is knowledge; and before these again, nature makes the object of contemplation within it, and the rational principle, by bringing another rational principle to completion. Some of these points could be grasped straight off; others the argument has recalled to mind.
ἐπεὶ κἀκεῖνο δῆλον, ὡς ἀναγκαῖον ἦν τῶν πρώτων ἐν θεωρίᾳ ὄντων καὶ τὰ ἄλλα πάντα ἐφίεσθαι τούτου, εἴπερ τέλος ἅπασιν ἡ ἀρχή. ἐπεὶ καί, ὅταν τὰ ζῷα γεννᾷ, οἱ λόγοι ἔνδον ὄντες κινοῦσι, καὶ ἔστιν ἐνέργεια θεωρίας τοῦτο καὶ ὠδὶς τοῦ πολλὰ ποιεῖν εἴδη καὶ πολλὰ θεωρήματα καὶ λόγων πληρῶσαι πάντα καὶ οἷον ἀεὶ θεωρεῖν· τὸ γὰρ ποιεῖν εἶναί τι εἶδός ἐστι ποιεῖν, τοῦτο δέ ἐστι πάντα πληρῶσαι θεωρίας. καὶ αἱ ἁμαρτίαι δέ, αἵ τε ἐν τοῖς γινομένοις αἵ τε ἐν τοῖς πραττομένοις, θεωρούντων εἰσὶν ἐκ τοῦ θεωρητοῦ παραφορά· καὶ ὅ γε κακὸς τεχνίτης ἔοικεν αἰσχρὰ εἴδη ποιοῦντι. καὶ οἱ ἔρωτες δὲ ἰδόντων καὶ πρὸς εἶδος σπευδόντων.
And this too is clear: since the first things are in contemplation, all the others must aspire to it, if the beginning is the goal for all things. For when living things generate, it is the rational principles within that move them; and this is an activity of contemplation, a birth-pang to make many forms and many objects of contemplation, to fill everything with rational principles and, as it were, to contemplate always. For to make something exist is to make a form, and this is to fill everything with contemplation. Failures too, whether in what comes into being or in what is done, are a straying of contemplators from the object of their contemplation; and the bad craftsman is like one who makes ugly forms. And loves too belong to those who have seen and are pressing on toward a form.
Intellect as living contemplation
In Intellect, thinker and thought are one living contemplation, many as well as one.
ταῦτα μὲν [οὖν] οὕτως. τῆς δὲ θεωρίας ἀναβαινούσης ἐκ τῆς φύσεως ἐπὶ ψυχὴν καὶ ἀπὸ ταύτης εἰς νοῦν καὶ ἀεὶ οἰκειοτέρων τῶν θεωριῶν γιγνομένων καὶ ἑνουμένων τοῖς θεωροῦσι καὶ ἐπὶ τῆς σπουδαίας ψυχῆς πρὸς τὸ αὐτὸ τῷ ὑποκειμένῳ ἰόντων τῶν ἐγνωσμένων ἅτε εἰς νοῦν σπευδόντων, ἐπὶ τούτου δηλονότι ἤδη ἓν ἄμφω οὐκ οἰκειώσει, ὥσπερ ἐπὶ τῆς ψυχῆς τῆς ἀρίστης, ἀλλ’ οὐσίᾳ καὶ τῷ ταὐτὸν τὸ εἶναι καὶ τὸ νοεῖν εἶναι. οὐ γὰρ ἔτι ἄλλο, τὸ δ’ ἄλλο· πάλιν γὰρ αὖ ἄλλο ἔσται, ὃ οὐκέτι ἄλλο καὶ ἄλλο. δεῖ οὖν τοῦτο εἶναι ἓν ὄντως ἄμφω· τοῦτο δέ ἐστι θεωρία ζῶσα, οὐ θεώρημα, οἷον τὸ ἐν ἄλλῳ. τὸ γὰρ ἐν ἄλλῳ ζῶν τι ἐκεῖνο, οὐκ αὐτοζῶν.
So much for that. As contemplation ascends from nature to soul, and from soul to Intellect, the contemplations become ever more intimate and united with those who contemplate; and in the good soul the things known move toward identity with the knowing subject, since they are pressing on toward intellect. In Intellect, clearly, both are now one—not by appropriation, as in the best soul, but in being, because being and thinking are the same. For there is no longer one thing and another; otherwise there would again have to be something else which is no longer one thing and another. This, then, must be truly one, both together; and this is living contemplation, not an object of contemplation like the one that is in something else. For what is in something else lives through that other; it is not living in itself.
εἰ οὖν ζήσεταί τι θεώρημα καὶ νόημα, δεῖ αὐτὸ ζωὴν εἶναι οὐ φυτικὴν οὐδὲ αἰσθητικὴν οὐδὲ ψυχικὴν τὴν ἄλλην. νοήσεις μὲν γάρ πως καὶ ἄλλαι· ἀλλ’ ἡ μὲν φυτικὴ νόησις, ἡ δὲ αἰσθητική, ἡ δὲ ψυχική. πῶς οὖν νοήσεις; ὅτι λόγοι. καὶ πᾶσα ζωὴ νόησίς τις, ἀλλὰ ἄλλη ἄλλης ἀμυδροτέρα, ὥσπερ καὶ ζωή. ἡ δὲ ἐναργεστέρα αὕτη καὶ πρώτη ζωὴ καὶ πρῶτος νοῦς εἷς. νόησις οὖν ἡ πρώτη [πρώτη] ζωὴ καὶ ζωὴ δευτέρα νόησις δευτέρα καὶ ἡ ἐσχάτη ζωὴ ἐσχάτη νόησις. πᾶσα οὖν ζωὴ ἡ τοῦ γένους τούτου καὶ νόησις. ἀλλὰ ζωῆς μὲν ἴσως διαφορὰς τάχα ἂν λέγοιεν ἄνθρωποι, νοήσεων δὲ οὐ λέγουσιν, ἀλλὰ τὰς μέν, τὰς δ’ ὅλως οὐ νοήσεις, ὅτι ὅλως τὴν ζωὴν ὅ τι ποτέ ἐστιν οὐ ζητοῦσιν.
If, then, an object of contemplation and of thought is to live, it must be life—not the life of growth, nor of perception, nor the rest of the life of soul. For the others too are thinkings in a way: there is the thinking of growth, perceptive thinking, and the thinking of soul. How, then, are they thinkings? Because they are rational principles. And every life is a thinking of a kind, but one dimmer than another, as is life itself. This life is the clearest: it is the first life and the first Intellect, which are one. So the first life is the first thinking, the second life the second thinking, and the last life the last thinking. Every life of this kind, then, is also thinking. But while people might perhaps speak of differences of life, they do not speak of differences of thinking; they say that some are thinkings and others not thinkings at all, because they do not ask at all what life is.
ἀλλ’ ἐκεῖνό γε ἐπισημαντέον, ὅτι πάλιν αὖ ὁ λόγος πάρεργον ἐνδείκνυται θεωρίας τὰ πάντα ὄντα.
But this at least should be pointed out: once again the argument shows that all things are a by-product of contemplation.
εἰ τοίνυν ἡ ζωὴ ἡ ἀληθεστάτη νοήσει ζωή ἐστιν, αὕτη δὲ ταὐτὸν τῇ ἀληθεστάτῃ νοήσει, ἡ ἀληθεστάτη νόησις ζῇ καὶ ἡ θεωρία καὶ τὸ θεώρημα τὸ τοιοῦτο ζῶν καὶ ζωὴ καὶ ἓν ὁμοῦ τὰ δύο. ἓν οὖν ὂν τὰ δύο πῶς αὖ πολλὰ τοῦτο τὸ ἕν; ἢ ὅτι οὐχ ἓν θεωρεῖ. ἐπεὶ καί, ὅταν τὸ ἓν θεωρῇ, οὐχ ὡς ἕν· εἰ δὲ μή, οὐ γίνεται νοῦς.
If, then, the truest life is life by thinking, and this is the same as the truest thinking, then the truest thinking lives, and contemplation and the object of contemplation of this kind are living and life, and the two are one together. But if the two are one, how is this one in turn many? Because it does not contemplate as one. For even when it contemplates the One, it does not do so as one; otherwise it does not become Intellect.
ἀλλὰ ἀρξάμενος ὡς ἓν οὐχ ὡς ἤρξατο ἔμεινεν, ἀλλ’ ἔλαθεν ἑαυτὸν πολὺς γενόμενος, οἷον βεβαρημένος, καὶ ἐξείλιξεν αὑτὸν πάντα ἔχειν ἐθέλων — εἰ καὶ βέλτιον ἦν αὐτῷ μὴ ἐθελῆσαι τοῦτο, δεύτερον γὰρ ἐγένετο — οἷον κύκλος ἐξελίξας αὑτὸν γέγονε καὶ σχῆμα καὶ ἐπίπεδον καὶ περιφέρεια καὶ κέντρον καὶ γραμμαὶ καὶ τὰ μὲν ἄνω, τὰ δὲ κάτω· βελτίω μὲν ὅθεν, χείρω δὲ εἰς ὅ. τὸ γὰρ ἀφ’ οὗ οὐκ ἦν τοιοῦτον οἷον τὸ ἀφ’ οὗ καὶ εἰς ὅ, οὐδὲ αὖ τὸ ἀφ’ οὗ καὶ εἰς ὃ οἷον τὸ ἀφ’ οὗ μόνον. καὶ ἄλλως δὲ ὁ νοῦς οὐχ ἑνός τινος νοῦς, ἀλλὰ καὶ πᾶς· πᾶς δὲ ὢν καὶ πάντων.
But having begun as one, it did not remain as it began; without noticing, it became many, as if weighed down, and unrolled itself out of a wish to possess everything—though it would have been better for it not to wish this, for it became second. It is like a circle that unrolls itself and becomes shape and surface and circumference and center and lines, some parts above and some below: better where they come from, worse where they go. For the “from which” was not like the “from which and to which,” nor again is the “from which and to which” like the “from which” alone. And in another way, Intellect is not the intellect of some one thing, but is all; and being all, it is the intellect of all things.
δεῖ οὖν αὐτὸν πάντα ὄντα καὶ πάντων καὶ τὸ μέρος αὐτοῦ ἔχειν πᾶν καὶ πάντα· εἰ δὲ μή, ἕξει τι μέρος οὐ νοῦν, καὶ συγκείσεται ἐξ οὐ νῶν, καὶ σωρός τις συμφορητὸς ἔσται ἀναμένων τὸ γενέσθαι νοῦς ἐκ πάντων. διὸ καὶ ἄπειρος οὗτος καί, εἴ τι ἀπ’ αὐτοῦ, οὐκ ἠλάττωται, οὔτε τὸ ἀπ’ αὐτοῦ, ὅτι πάντα καὶ αὐτό, οὔτε ἐκεῖνος ὁ ἐξ οὗ, ὅτι μὴ σύνθεσις ἦν ἐκ μορίων.
So, being all things and of all things, it must have its part too containing the whole and all things. Otherwise it will have some part that is not intellect; it will be composed of non-intellects, a heap piled together, waiting to become intellect out of all of them. That is why it is unlimited too, and if anything comes from it, there is no diminution—neither of what comes from it, since that too is all things, nor of that from which it comes, since it was not a composition of parts.
What is beyond Intellect
What is prior to Intellect is neither thinker nor thought but the power of all things.
οὗτος μὲν οὖν τοιοῦτος· διὸ οὐ πρώτως, ἀλλὰ δεῖ εἶναι τὸ ἐπέκεινα αὐτοῦ, οὗπερ χάριν καὶ οἱ πρόσθεν λόγοι, πρῶτον μέν, ὅτι πλῆθος ἑνὸς ὕστερον· καὶ ἀριθμὸς δὲ οὗτος, ἀριθμοῦ δὲ ἀρχὴ καὶ τοῦ τοιούτου τὸ ὄντως ἕν· καὶ οὗτος νοῦς καὶ νοητὸν ἅμα, ὥστε δύο ἅμα. εἰ δὲ δύο, δεῖ τὸ πρὸ τοῦ δύο λαβεῖν. τί οὖν; νοῦς μόνον; ἀλλὰ παντὶ νῷ συνέζευκται τὸ νοητόν· εἰ οὖν δεῖ μὴ συνεζεῦχθαι τὸ νοητόν, οὐδὲ νοῦς ἔσται. εἰ οὖν μὴ νοῦς, ἀλλ’ ἐκφεύξεται τὰ δύο, τὸ πρότερον τῶν δύο τούτων ἐπέκεινα δεῖ νοῦ εἶναι. τί οὖν κωλύει τὸ νοητὸν αὐτὸ εἶναι; ἢ ὅτι καὶ τὸ νοητὸν συνέζευκται τῷ νῷ. εἰ οὖν μήτε νοῦς μήτε νοητὸν εἴη, τί ἂν εἴη;
That, then, is what Intellect is like. That is why it is not first; there must be what is beyond it, which is what our earlier discussion was aiming at too. First, because multiplicity comes after unity; and Intellect is a number, and the principle of number, and of anything like it, is what is really one. And Intellect is at once intellect and intelligible, so two at once. And if two, we must find what is before the two. What, then? Intellect alone? But with every intellect the intelligible is yoked; if, then, the intelligible must not be yoked to it, it will not be intellect either. If, then, it is not intellect, but is to escape the duality, what is prior to these two must be beyond Intellect. What, then, prevents it from being the intelligible? That the intelligible too is yoked to intellect. If, then, it is neither intellect nor intelligible, what could it be?
ἐξ οὗ ὁ νοῦς καὶ τὸ σὺν αὐτῷ νοητὸν φήσομεν. τί οὖν τοῦτο καὶ ποῖόν τι αὐτὸ φαντασθησόμεθα; καὶ γὰρ αὖ ἢ νοοῦν ἔσται ἢ ἀνόητόν τι. νοοῦν μὲν οὖν νοῦς, ἀνόητον δὲ ἀγνοήσει καὶ ἑαυτό· ὥστε τί σεμνόν; οὐδὲ γάρ, εἰ λέγοιμεν τὸ ἀγαθὸν εἶναι καὶ ἁπλούστατον εἶναι, δῆλόν τι καὶ σαφὲς ἐροῦμεν τὸ ἀληθὲς λέγοντες, ἕως ἂν μὴ ἔχωμεν ἐπὶ τί ἐρείδοντες τὴν διάνοιαν λέγομεν. καὶ γὰρ αὖ τῆς γνώσεως διὰ νοῦ τῶν ἄλλων γιγνομένης καὶ τῷ νῷ νοοῦν τι γιγνώσκειν δυναμένων ὑπερβεβηκὸς τοῦτο τὴν νοῦ φύσιν τίνι ἂν ἁλίσκοιτο ἐπιβολῇ ἀθρόᾳ; πρὸς ὃ δεῖ σημᾶναι, ὅπως οἷόν τε· τῷ ἐν ἡμῖν ὁμοίῳ φήσομεν. ἔστι γάρ τι καὶ παρ’ ἡμῖν αὐτοῦ ἢ οὐκ ἔστιν, ὅπου μὴ ἔστιν, οἷς ἔστι μετέχειν αὐτοῦ.
We shall say: that from which Intellect comes, and the intelligible with it. What, then, is this, and what shall we imagine it to be like? For again, it will be either something that thinks or something without thought. If it thinks, it is intellect; if it is without thought, it will be ignorant even of itself—so what will be majestic about it? Even if we say it is the Good and is utterly simple, we shall not be saying anything clear and distinct, though we speak the truth, so long as we have nothing to fix our thought on when we speak. For again, since knowledge of other things comes through intellect, and we can know by intellect only by thinking something, by what all-at-once apprehension could this be grasped, when it has gone beyond the nature of intellect? To which we must reply, indicating as best we can: by what in us is like it. For there is something of it in us too—or rather, there is nowhere it is not, for those who are able to share in it.
τῷ γὰρ πανταχοῦ παραστήσας ὁπουοῦν τὸ δυνάμενον ἔχειν ἔχεις ἐκεῖθεν· ὥσπερ εἰ φωνῆς κατεχούσης ἐρημίαν καὶ μετὰ τῆς ἐρημίας καὶ ἀνθρώπους ἐν ὁτῳοῦν τοῦ ἐρήμου στήσας οὖς τὴν φωνὴν κομιῇ πᾶσαν καὶ αὖ οὐ πᾶσαν.
For wherever you are, by setting what is able to receive before what is everywhere, you receive from it. It is as if a voice filled an empty place, and the people in it as well: set your ear anywhere in that empty place and you will take in the whole voice—and again not the whole.
τί οὖν ἐστιν ὃ κομιούμεθα νοῦν παραστησάμενοι; ἢ δεῖ τὸν νοῦν οἷον εἰς τοὐπίσω ἀναχωρεῖν καὶ οἷον ἑαυτὸν ἀφέντα τοῖς εἰς ὄπισθεν αὐτοῦ ἀμφίστομον ὄντα κἀκεῖ, εἰ ἐθέλει ἐκεῖνο ὁρᾶν, μὴ πάντα νοῦν εἶναι. ἔστι μὲν γὰρ αὐτὸς ζωὴ πρώτη, ἐνέργεια οὖσα ἐν διεξόδῳ τῶν πάντων· διεξόδῳ δὲ οὐ τῇ διεξιούσῃ, ἀλλὰ τῇ διεξελθούσῃ. εἴπερ οὖν καὶ ζωή ἐστι καὶ διέξοδός ἐστι καὶ πάντα ἀκριβῶς καὶ οὐχ ὁλοσχερῶς ἔχει — ἀτελῶς γὰρ ἂν καὶ ἀδιαρθρώτως ἔχοι — ἀνάγκη ἔκ τινος ἄλλου αὐτὸν εἶναι, ὃ οὐκέτι ἐν διεξόδῳ, ἀλλὰ ἀρχὴ διεξόδου καὶ ἀρχὴ ζωῆς καὶ ἀρχὴ νοῦ καὶ τῶν πάντων.
What, then, is it that we shall take in when we set intellect before it? Rather, intellect must, as it were, withdraw backward and, as it were, give itself up to what lies behind it—for it faces both ways—and there, if it wants to see that, it must not be altogether intellect. For it is itself the first life, an activity that consists in a passage through all things—a passage not in the course of passing through, but one that has passed through. If, then, it is life and passage, and holds all things precisely and not in a general way—otherwise it would hold them imperfectly and without articulation—it must come from something else, which is no longer in passage, but is the principle of passage, the principle of life, the principle of intellect and of all things.
οὐ γὰρ ἀρχὴ τὰ πάντα, ἀλλ’ ἐξ ἀρχῆς τὰ πάντα· αὐτὴ δὲ οὐκέτι τὰ πάντα οὐδέ τι τῶν πάντων, ἵνα γεννήσῃ τὰ πάντα, καὶ ἵνα μὴ πλῆθος ᾖ, ἀλλὰ τοῦ πλήθους ἀρχή· τοῦ γὰρ γεννηθέντος πανταχοῦ τὸ γεννῶν ἁπλούστερον. εἰ οὖν τοῦτο νοῦν ἐγέννησεν, ἁπλούστερον νοῦ δεῖ αὐτὸ εἶναι. εἰ δέ τις οἴοιτο αὐτὸ τὸ ἓν καὶ τὰ πάντα εἶναι, ἤτοι καθ’ ἓν ἕκαστον τῶν πάντων ἐκεῖνο ἔσται ἢ ὁμοῦ πάντα. εἰ μὲν οὖν ὁμοῦ πάντα συνηθροισμένα, ὕστερον ἔσται τῶν πάντων· εἰ δὲ πρότερον τῶν πάντων, ἄλλα μὲν τὰ πάντα, ἄλλο δὲ αὐτὸ ἔσται τῶν πάντων· εἰ δὲ ἅμα καὶ αὐτὸ καὶ τὰ πάντα, οὐκ ἀρχὴ ἔσται. δεῖ δὲ αὐτὸ ἀρχὴν εἶναι καὶ εἶναι πρὸ πάντων, ἵνα ᾖ μετ’ αὐτὸ καὶ τὰ πάντα.
For all things are not a principle; all things come from a principle. And the principle itself is no longer all things, nor any one of them, so that it may generate all things, and so that it may not be multiplicity but the principle of multiplicity; for everywhere what generates is simpler than what is generated. If, then, this generated Intellect, it must be simpler than Intellect. And if someone thinks that the One itself is also all things, then it will be either each of all things one by one, or all of them together. If it is all of them together, gathered into one, it will come after all things; if it is prior to all things, all things will be one thing and it another; and if it and all things exist at the same time, it will not be a principle. But it must be a principle and exist before all things, so that all things may come after it.
τὸ δὲ καθ’ ἕκαστον τῶν πάντων πρῶτον μὲν τὸ αὐτὸ ἔσται ὁτιοῦν ὁτῳοῦν, ἔπειτα ὁμοῦ πάντα, καὶ οὐδὲν διακρινεῖ. καὶ οὕτως οὐδὲν τῶν πάντων, ἀλλὰ πρὸ τῶν πάντων.
As for its being each of all things one by one: first, anything will be the same as anything else; then all will be together, and nothing will be distinguished. And so it is none of all things, but before all things.
The spring and the root
The One is like a spring feeding every river, or the root that gives a great plant its life.
τί δὴ ὄν; δύναμις τῶν πάντων· ἧς μὴ οὔσης οὐδ’ ἂν τὰ πάντα, οὐδ’ ἂν νοῦς ζωὴ ἡ πρώτη καὶ πᾶσα. τὸ δὲ ὑπὲρ τὴν ζωὴν αἴτιον ζωῆς· οὐ γὰρ ἡ τῆς ζωῆς ἐνέργεια τὰ πάντα οὖσα πρώτη, ἀλλ’ ὥσπερ προχυθεῖσα αὐτὴ οἷον ἐκ πηγῆς. νόησον γὰρ πηγὴν ἀρχὴν ἄλλην οὐκ ἔχουσαν, δοῦσαν δὲ ποταμοῖς πᾶσιν αὑτήν, οὐκ ἀναλωθεῖσαν τοῖς ποταμοῖς, ἀλλὰ μένουσαν αὐτὴν ἡσύχως, τοὺς δὲ ἐξ αὐτῆς προεληλυθότας πρὶν ἄλλον ἄλλῃ ῥεῖν ὁμοῦ συνιόντας ἔτι, ἤδη δὲ οἷον ἑκάστους εἰδότας οἷ ἀφήσουσιν αὑτῶν τὰ ῥεύματα· ἢ ζωὴν φυτοῦ μεγίστου διὰ παντὸς ἐλθοῦσαν ἀρχῆς μενούσης καὶ οὐ σκεδασθείσης περὶ πᾶν αὐτῆς οἷον ἐν ῥίζῃ ἱδρυμένης.
What, then, is it? The power of all things. If it did not exist, neither would all things, nor would Intellect be the first and universal life. What is above life is the cause of life; for the activity of life, which is all things, is not first, but itself pours forth, as it were, from a spring. Think of a spring that has no other source, but gives itself to all the rivers without being used up by the rivers, remaining quietly itself; while the rivers that have come out of it, before each flows off in its own direction, still run together, though each already knows, as it were, where it will let its streams go. Or think of the life of a huge plant, which goes through the whole of it while its principle remains and is not scattered over the whole, being seated, as it were, in the root.
αὕτη τοίνυν παρέσχε μὲν τὴν πᾶσαν ζωὴν τῷ φυτῷ τὴν πολλήν, ἔμεινε δὲ αὐτὴ οὐ πολλὴ οὖσα, ἀλλ’ ἀρχὴ τῆς πολλῆς. καὶ θαῦμα οὐδέν.
This principle, then, provided the plant with all its manifold life, but itself remained, not manifold but the principle of the manifold life. And there is nothing to wonder at in that.
ἢ καὶ θαῦμα, πῶς τὸ πλῆθος τῆς ζωῆς ἐξ οὐ πλήθους ἦν, καὶ οὐκ ἦν τὸ πλῆθος, εἰ μὴ πρὸ τοῦ πλήθους ἦν ὃ μὴ πλῆθος ἦν. οὐ γὰρ μερίζεται εἰς τὸ πᾶν ἡ ἀρχή· μερισθεῖσα γὰρ ἀπώλεσεν ἂν καὶ τὸ πᾶν, καὶ οὐδ’ ἂν ἔτι ἐγένετο μὴ μενούσης τῆς ἀρχῆς ἐφ’ ἑαυτῆς ἑτέρας οὔσης. διὸ καὶ ἡ ἀναγωγὴ πανταχοῦ ἐφ’ ἕν. καὶ ἐφ’ ἑκάστου μέν τι ἕν, εἰς ὃ ἀνάξεις, καὶ τὸ δὲ πᾶν εἰς ἓν τὸ πρὸ αὐτοῦ, οὐχ ἁπλῶς ἕν, ἕως [ἄν] τις ἐπὶ τὸ ἁπλῶς ἓν ἔλθῃ· τοῦτο δὲ οὐκέτι ἐπ’ ἄλλο.
Or rather, it is a wonder: how the multiplicity of life came from what is not a multiplicity, and how there would be no multiplicity unless, before the multiplicity, there were what is not a multiplicity. For the principle is not divided up into the All. Divided, it would have destroyed the All as well, and the All would not even have come into being, unless the principle remained by itself, being different from it. That is why the leading back is everywhere to one. In each case there is some one to which you will lead it back. The All, too, is led back to the one before it, though not to what is simply one, until one arrives at what is simply One; and this can no longer be led back to anything else.
ἀλλ’ εἰ μὲν τὸ τοῦ φυτοῦ ἕν — τοῦτο δὲ ἡ ἀρχὴ ἡ μένουσα — καὶ τὸ ζῴου ἓν καὶ τὸ ψυχῆς ἓν καὶ τὸ παντὸς ἓν λαμβάνοι, λαμβάνει ἑκασταχοῦ τὸ δυνατώτατον καὶ τὸ τίμιον· εἰ δὲ τὸ τῶν κατὰ ἀλήθειαν ὄντων ἕν, τὴν ἀρχὴν καὶ πηγὴν καὶ δύναμιν, λαμβάνοι, ἀπιστήσωμεν καὶ τὸ μηδὲν ὑπονοήσωμεν; ἢ ἔστι μὲν μηδὲν τούτων ὧν ἐστιν ἀρχή, τοιοῦτο μέντοι, οἷον μηδενὸς αὐτοῦ κατηγορεῖσθαι δυναμένου, μὴ ὄντος, μὴ οὐσίας, μὴ ζωῆς, τὸ ὑπὲρ πάντα ταῦτα εἶναι. εἰ δὲ ἀφελὼν τὸ εἶναι λαμβάνοις, θαῦμα ἕξεις. καὶ βαλὼν πρὸς αὐτὸ καὶ τυχὼν ἐν τοῖς αὐτοῦ ἀναπαυσάμενος συννόει μᾶλλον τῇ προσβολῇ συνείς, συνορῶν δὲ τὸ μέγα αὐτοῦ τοῖς μετ’ αὐτὸ δι’ αὐτὸ οὖσιν.
Now if one takes the one of the plant (this is the principle that remains), and the one of the animal, the one of soul, and the one of the All, one is taking in each case what is most powerful and most valuable. But if one takes the One of the things that truly are, their principle and source and power, shall we lose faith and suspect it is nothing? Or rather: it is none of the things of which it is the principle. Yet it is such that nothing can be predicated of it, not being, not substance, not life, so that it is what is above all these. If you grasp it by taking being away, you will be filled with wonder. Cast yourself toward it, reach it, come to rest within what is its own, and understand it better, grasping it by direct contact, and seeing its greatness all at once through the things that come after it and exist because of it.
ἔτι δὲ καὶ ὧδε· ἐπεὶ γὰρ ὁ νοῦς ἐστιν ὄψις τις καὶ ὄψις ὁρῶσα, δύναμις ἔσται εἰς ἐνέργειαν ἐλθοῦσα. ἔσται τοίνυν τὸ μὲν ὕλη, τὸ δὲ εἶδος αὐτοῦ, οἷον καὶ ἡ κατ’ ἐνέργειαν ὅρασις ὕλη δὲ [ἡ] ἐν νοητοῖς. ἐπεὶ καὶ ἡ ὅρασις ἡ κατ’ ἐνέργειαν διττὸν ἔχει· πρὶν γοῦν ἰδεῖν ἓν ἦν. τὸ οὖν ἓν δύο γέγονε καὶ τὰ δύο ἕν. τῇ μὲν οὖν ὁράσει ἡ πλήρωσις παρὰ τοῦ αἰσθητοῦ καὶ ἡ οἷον τελείωσις, τῇ δὲ τοῦ νοῦ ὄψει τὸ ἀγαθὸν τὸ πληροῦν. εἰ γὰρ αὐτὸς τὸ ἀγαθόν, τί ἔδει ὁρᾶν ἢ ἐνεργεῖν ὅλως; τὰ μὲν γὰρ ἄλλα περὶ τὸ ἀγαθὸν καὶ διὰ τὸ ἀγαθὸν ἔχει τὴν ἐνέργειαν, τὸ δὲ ἀγαθὸν οὐδενὸς δεῖται· διὸ οὐδὲν ἔσται αὐτῷ ἢ αὐτό.
Look at it this way, too. Since Intellect is a kind of sight, and a sight that sees, it will be a power that has come into activity. So there will be in it matter and form, as in actual seeing, but matter in the intelligibles. For actual seeing, too, has a doubleness: before seeing, at any rate, it was one. So the one has become two, and the two one. For seeing, then, the filling and the completion, as it were, come from the perceptible object. For the sight of Intellect, it is the Good that fills it. For if Intellect itself were the Good, what need would it have to see, or to be active at all? The other things have their activity around the Good and because of the Good, but the Good needs nothing. So there will be nothing for it except itself.
φθεγξάμενος οὖν τὸ ἀγαθὸν μηδὲν ἔτι προσνόει· ἐὰν γάρ τι προσθῇς, ὅσῳ προσέθηκας ὁτιοῦν, ἐνδεὲς ποιήσεις. διὸ οὐδὲ τὸ νοεῖν, ἵνα καὶ μὴ ἄλλο, καὶ ποιήσῃς δύο, νοῦν καὶ ἀγαθόν. ὁ μὲν γὰρ νοῦς τοῦ ἀγαθοῦ, τὸ δ’ ἀγαθὸν οὐ δεῖται ἐκείνου· ὅθεν καὶ τυγχάνων τοῦ ἀγαθοῦ ἀγαθοειδὲς γίνεται καὶ τελειοῦται παρὰ τοῦ ἀγαθοῦ, τοῦ μὲν εἴδους τοῦ ἐπ’ αὐτῷ παρὰ τοῦ ἀγαθοῦ ἥκοντος ἀγαθοειδῆ ποιοῦντος. οἷον δὲ ἐνορᾶται ἐπ’ αὐτῷ ἴχνος τοῦ ἀγαθοῦ, τοιοῦτον τὸ ἀρχέτυπον ἐννοεῖν προσήκει τὸ ἀληθινὸν ἐκείνου ἐνθυμηθέντα ἐκ τοῦ ἐπὶ τῷ νῷ ἐπιθέοντος ἴχνους.
So when you have said “the Good,” add nothing more in thought. If you add anything, then by whatever you have added you will make it deficient. That is why you must not even add thinking, so that you don’t add something else and make two, Intellect and Good. For Intellect belongs to the Good, but the Good does not need Intellect. That is also why, when Intellect attains the Good, it becomes Good-like and is perfected by the Good: the form that comes upon it from the Good makes it Good-like. And as the trace of the Good is seen in it, so one should conceive the archetype, forming an idea of its true nature from the trace that plays over Intellect.
τὸ μὲν οὖν ἐπ’ αὐτῷ ἴχνος αὑτοῦ τῷ νῷ ἐνορῶντι ἔδωκεν ἔχειν· ὥστε ἐν μὲν τῷ νῷ ἡ ἔφεσις καὶ ἐφιέμενος ἀεὶ καὶ ἀεὶ τυγχάνων, ἐκεῖ δὲ οὔτε ἐφιέμενος· τίνος γάρ; οὔτε τυγχάνων· οὐδὲ γὰρ ἐφίετο. οὐ τοίνυν οὐδὲ νοῦς· ἔφεσις γὰρ καὶ ἐν τούτῳ καὶ σύννευσις πρὸς τὸ εἶδος αὐτοῦ. τοῦ δὴ νοῦ καλοῦ ὄντος καὶ πάντων καλλίστου, ἐν φωτὶ καθαρῷ καὶ αὐγῇ καθαρᾷ κειμένου καὶ τὴν τῶν ὄντων περιλαβόντος φύσιν, οὗ καὶ ὁ καλὸς οὗτος κόσμος σκιὰ καὶ εἰκών, καὶ ἐν πάσῃ ἀγλαίᾳ κειμένου, ὅτι μηδὲν ἀνόητον μηδὲ σκοτεινὸν μηδ’ ἄμετρον ἐν αὐτῷ, ζῶντος ζωὴν μακαρίαν, θάμβος μὲν ἂν ἔχοι τὸν ἰδόντα καὶ τοῦτον καὶ ὡς χρὴ εἰς αὐτὸν εἰσδύντα καὶ αὐτοῦ γενόμενον ἕνα.
So the Good has given Intellect, as it looks, its own trace upon it to have. In Intellect, then, there is aspiration: it is always aspiring and always attaining. But the Good neither aspires (to what?) nor attains, since it did not aspire. So it is not Intellect either; for in Intellect too there is aspiration and convergence toward its form. Intellect is beautiful, the most beautiful of all things. It is set in pure light and pure radiance and embraces the nature of the things that are, and this beautiful cosmos of ours is its shadow and image. It is set in all splendor, because there is nothing unintelligent or dark or without measure in it, and it lives a blessed life. Amazement would seize anyone who saw even this, and saw it as one should, sinking into it and becoming one with it.
ὡς δὴ ὁ ἀναβλέψας εἰς τὸν οὐρανὸν καὶ τὸ τῶν ἄστρων φέγγος ἰδὼν τὸν ποιήσαντα ἐνθυμεῖται καὶ ζητεῖ, οὕτω χρὴ καὶ τὸν νοητὸν κόσμον ὃς ἐθεάσατο καὶ ἐνεῖδε καὶ ἐθαύμασε τὸν κἀκείνου ποιητὴν τίς ἄρα ὁ τοιοῦτον ὑποστήσας ζητεῖν, ἢ ποῦ ἢ πῶς, ὁ τοιοῦτον παῖδα γεννήσας νοῦν, κόρον καλὸν καὶ παρ’ αὐτοῦ γενόμενον κόρον. πάντως τοι οὔτε νοῦς ἐκεῖνος οὔτε κόρος, ἀλλὰ καὶ πρὸ νοῦ καὶ κόρου· μετὰ γὰρ αὐτὸν νοῦς καὶ κόρος, δεηθέντα καὶ κεκορέσθαι καὶ νενοηκέναι· ἃ πλησίον μέν ἐστι τοῦ ἀνενδεοῦς καὶ τοῦ νοεῖν οὐδὲν δεομένου, πλήρωσιν δὲ ἀληθινὴν καὶ νόησιν ἔχει, ὅτι πρώτως ἔχει. τὸ δὲ πρὸ αὐτῶν οὔτε δεῖται οὔτε ἔχει· ἢ οὐκ ἂν τὸ ἀγαθὸν ἦν.
Someone who looks up at the heavens and sees the light of the stars thinks of their maker and looks for him. In the same way, whoever has contemplated the intelligible world, gazed into it and marveled at it, must look for its maker too: who it is that brought such a world into being, or where, or how, he who fathered such a child, Intellect, a beautiful boy, a boy who is fullness and comes from him. Certainly he is neither Intellect nor fullness, but before Intellect and fullness. For Intellect and fullness come after him, having needed both to be filled and to have thought. These are close to what is without need, to what has no need of thinking, yet they have true fullness and true thinking, because they have them first. But what is before them neither needs nor has. Otherwise it would not be the Good.