SECTION III.

It is now requisite that we should direct our attention to

Iamblichus, the celebrated disciple of Porphyry, who, on account

of the sublimity of his genius, and his admirable proficiency in

theological learning, was surnamed, _the divine_. This extraordinary

man who appears to have been born for the advancement of theology,

though zealously attached to the Platonic philosophy, yet explored the

wisdom of other sects, particularly of the Pythagoreans, Egyptians, and

Chaldeans; and formed one beautiful system of recondite knowledge, from

their harmonious conjunction. There is a short life of this philosophic

hero extant, by Eunapius, the substance of which is as follows;

Iamblicus was descended of a family equally illustrious, fortunate, and

rich. His country was Chalcis, a city of Syria, which they denominate

Cælen. He associated with Anatolius, who was the second to Porphyry,

but he far excelled him in his attainments, and ascended to the very

summit of philosophy. But after he had been for some time connected

with Anatolius, and most probably found him insufficient to satisfy

the vast desires of his soul, he applied himself to Porphyry, to whom

(says Eunapuis) he was nothing inferior, except in the structure and

power of composition. For his writings were not so elegant and graceful

as those of Porphyry: they were neither agreeable, nor conspicuous;

nor free from impurity of diction. And though they were not entirely

involved in obscurity, and perfectly faulty; yet, as Plato formerly

said of Zenocrates, he did not sacrifice to the _mercurial Graces_.

Hence he is far from detaining the reader with delight, or inviting

him to a perusal of his works; but he rather seems to avert and dull

the attention, and frustrate the reader’s expectation. However, though

the surface of his conceptions is not covered with the flowers of

elocution, yet his thoughts contain a most admirable depth, and his

imagination is truly divine. He shared in an eminent degree the favour

of divinity on account of his cultivation of justice; and obtained a

multitude of associates and disciples, who came from all parts of the

world, for the purpose of participating the streams of wisdom, which

so plentifully flowed from the sacred fountain of his wonderful mind.

Among these was Sopater[96] the Syrian, of the greatest eloquence, both

in composition and discourse; Eustathius the Cappadocian; and of the

Greeks, Theodorus and Euphrasius. All these were excellent for their

virtues and attainments, as well as many others of his disciples,

who were not much inferior to the former in eloquence; so that it

seems wonderful, how Iamblichus, could attend to them all, with such

gentleness of manners and benignity of disposition.

He performed some few particulars relative to the veneration of

divinity, by himself, without his associates and disciples; but was

inseparable from his familiars in most of his operations. He imitated

in his diet the frugal simplicity of the most ancient times; and during

his repast exhilerated those who were present by his behaviour, and

filled them as with nectar by the sweetness of his discourse. Some

of these inflamed with an unwearied desire of hearing his wisdom,

and incapable of being satiated with its pleasure, were his constant

guests, and once addressed him as follows: “Why, O divine master, do

you thus act alone, without communicating to us your most consummate

wisdom? Yet it has been reported to us by your servants, that you have

been seen, while engaged in prayer, elevated more than ten cubits from

the ground, your body and garments at the same time being changed into

a golden colour; and that when your prayers have been finished, your

body has returned to its pristine form, and descending to the earth you

have associated and discoursed with us as before.” Upon this Iamblichus

laughed (though he was not addicted to laughter) and replied: “He

who invented this false relation, was not unpleasant; but in future,

nothing shall be transacted without you.”

The two following circumstances, relative to the theurgical powers

of this wonderful man, are related by Eunapius, which the reader may

credit or reject as he pleases. At that season of the year, when the

sun rises in conjunction with the dog-star, Iamblichus went with his

disciples to sacrifice, in one of the suburbs of the city; and after

the sacrifice was performed they returned to town, gently walking

along, and discoursing concerning the gods, as a subject very proper

for the occasion. Then Iamblichus, who was perfectly lost in thought

in the midst of the discourse, whose voice was fallen, and eyes

immoveably fixed on the earth, turned to his companions and exclaimed:

“Let us take another road, for not far from hence there is a funeral

procession”. Iamblichus accordingly chose a purer way, and was

accompanied by some who were ashamed to forsake their master: but the

greater part, among whom was Aedesius, obstinately persisted in the

former road, ascribing the affair to the vanity and superstition of the

man, and tracing the event with avidity and caution. In the mean time,

those whose office consists in burying the dead approached, contrary

to the expectation of his disciples; and upon enquiring whether they

had taken that road from the first, they answered in the affirmative,

and that no other path led to the place of their destination. But the

second relation is far more wonderful than the present: for in the

first (says Eunapius) perhaps the sight and smell of Iamblichus was

more powerful than that of his disciples. His associates therefore,

not satisfied with this testimony of his extraordinary powers,

were desirous to try him in a greater affair, and upon solliciting

Iamblichus for this purpose, he replied that a proof of this kind

was not dependant on his own will, but must be referred to a proper

opportunity. In a short time after this, they all went to Gadara in

Syria, a place so famous for baths, that, after Baiæ in Campania, it is

the second in the Roman empire. Here a dispute concerning baths arising

while they were bathing, Iamblichus smiling, said to them: “Though what

I am about to disclose is not pious, yet for your sakes it shall be

undertaken;” and at the same time he ordered his disciples to enquire

of the natives, what appellations had been formerly given to two of

the hot fountains, which were indeed less than the others, but more

elegant and graceful. Upon enquiry, they found themselves unable to

discover the cause of their nomination; but were informed that the one

was called ἔρως, _eros_, or _love_, and the other ἀντέρως, _anteros_,

or _the god who avenges the injuries of lovers_. Iamblichus immediately

touching the water with his hand (for he sat perhaps on the margin of

the fountain) and murmuring a few words, raised from the bottom of the

fountain, a fair boy, of a moderate stature, whose hair seemed to be

tinged with gold, and the upper part of whose breast was of a luminous

appearance. His companions being astonished at the novelty of the

affair, let us pass on says he, to the next fountain; and at the same

time he arose, fixed in thought, and performing the same ceremonies as

before, called forth the other love, who was in all respects similar to

the former, except that his hair, scattered in his neck was blacker,

and was like the sun in refulgence. At the same time both the boys,

eagerly embraced Iamblichus, as if he had been their natural parent:

but he immediately restored them to their proper seats, and when he had

washed departed from the place. After this affair, the astonishment

of his familiars and disciples was so great, that they submitted to

the doctrines of Iamblichus with implicit assent. Eunapius observes

that other extraordinary particulars were related of Iamblichus,

but that they had too much the appearance of fables to be combined

with historical veracity. He adds that he should fear the preceding

relations, were delusive and fictitious, if they had not been confirmed

by men who were eye-witnesses of their reality.

A celebrated philosopher named Alypius, lived at the same time as

Iamblichus, who was deeply skilled in dialectic; but was of such a

short stature, and so slender in body, that he exhibited the appearance

of a pygmy. However his great abilities amply compensated for this

trifling defect; and he might be said to have emigrated into soul

alone, by which he was possessed as by some inspiring god. This Alypius

had many followers, but his mode of philosophising, was confined to

private conference and disputation, without committing any of his

dogmata to writing. Hence his disciples gladly applied themselves to

Iamblichus, desirous to draw abundantly from his copious mind, as

from a perennial and overflowing fountain. The same therefore of each

continually increasing, they once accidentally met like two refulgent

stars, and were surrounded by so great a croud of auditors, that it

represented some mighty musæum. While Iamblichus on this occasion

waited rather to be interrogated than to propose a question himself,

Alypius, contrary to the expectation of every one, relinquishing

philosophical discussions, and seeing himself surrounded with a

theatre of men, turned to Iamblichus, and said to him: _tell me O

philosopher, is the rich man unjust, or the heir of the unjust? For in

this case there is no medium._ But Iamblichus hating the acuteness

of the question, replied, “This kind of disputation, O illustrious man,

relative to external concerns, is foreign from our philosophical mode;

since we alone propose as subjects of speculation, characters replete

with philosophic virtue.” After he had said this he departed, and at

the same time all the surrounding multitude was immediately dispersed.

But Iamblichus collecting himself when alone, and admiring the

acuteness of the question, often privately resorted to Alypius, whom he

vehemently extolled for the subtility of his judgment, and the sagacity

of his genius; and whose life he historically and copiously delineated.

This Alypius was an Alexandrian by birth, and died in his own country,

worn out with age: and after him Iamblichus[97], leaving behind him

many roots and fountains of philosophy; which, through the cultivation

of succeeding Platonists, produced a fair variety of vigorous branches

and copious streams.

The writings of this extraordinary man, though inestimably valuable,

are not numerous; and the greater part are unfortunately lost. The

only one which is preserved, relative to the Platonic theology, is the

following:

_On the mysteries of the Egyptians, Chaldæans, and Assyrians_:

or an answer to the epistle of Porphyry to the prophet Anebo. This

admirable book contains many of the greatest arcana, of the ancient

theology; respecting gods and dæmons, their cultivation and commerce,

and the conjunction of the soul with divinity. It fully solves all the

doubts concerning the impassivity of a divine nature; demonstrates its

omnipresence, and never-failing energy; shews that we are continually

surrounded with its light; and that all the divinities subsist in

indivisible union, and indissoluble consent. There is an excellent

Greek and Latin edition of this work, published, with copious notes, by

the learned Gale: and it is greatly to be wished, though but little to

be expected, that it was once translated into English, accompanied with

a philosophical comment, which might both disclose its beauties, and

reveal the sacred mysteries it contains.

Among the lost writings of Iamblichus, respecting theology, we

may reckon in the first place, _three books, concerning the

physics, ethics, and theology of arithmetic_: or φυσικὰ ἠθικὰ και

Θεολογούμενα Ἀριθμητικῆς. These three books, form the fifth, sixth,

and seventh, of a great work by Iamblichus, in ten books, entitled,

_a collection of the Pythagoric dogmata_. And the seventh book,

Fabricius thinks is still extant.

2. _Concerning the gods._ From this work the emperor Julian derived

most of the dogmata contained in his elegant oration to the sun.

3. _Commentaries on the Parmenides, Timæus and Phædo of Plato._

The inestimable value of the first and second of these commentaries is

sufficiently evident from the frequent mention made of them by Proclus,

in his writings on these dialogues; and from the admirable passages

contained in them, which he has fortunately preserved.

4. _Concerning the perfection of the Chaldaic philosophy._ The

twenty-seventh book of this great work, is cited by Damascius, in his

MS. treatise περὶ ἀρχῶν: and this whole discourse was studied with

avidity by Proclus, and enabled him as we are informed by Marinus, to

ascend to the very summit of theurgic virtue. And thus much for the

works of Iamblichus relative to the Platonic theology.

But here we may observe with wonder how the deepest mysteries of this

theology, became more and more explicitly unveiled, in proportion as

the Roman empire was hastening to its dissolution; and Christianity to

an universal establishment. Though the works of Plotinus and Porphyry

contain all the arcana of theology, yet they contain them occultly

and concisely. Their depth is in a great measure latent, and their

fire condensed. But in Iamblichus we find greater copiousness and

precision: theology is rendered more easy of access, and her light is

more widely diffused. The profundity of barbarian theology is more

accurately explored, and its consent with that of Pythagoras and Plato

more abundantly and distinctly evinced. We find in his works, mystery

united with bright evidence, religion with sublime philosophy, and

science with divine illumination. Now this difference in the mode of

unveiling the Platonic theology, is perfectly agreeable to the state of

the Roman empire, and the new religion, at the periods when these modes

were adopted. In the times of Plotinus and Porphyry, when Galienus,

and Dioclesian swayed the sceptre of the world, Rome was in the middle

of her course to destruction and Christianity had nearly accomplished

one half of her journey to ecclesiastical empire. However as neither

the fall of Rome, nor the establishment of Christianity, were then

absolutely certain, these philosophers were cautious in disclosing all,

that a baser period might require. This period Iamblichus was destined

to see approach under the reign of the emperor Constantine; when the

new religion was established, and the old treated with ridicule and

contempt. Indeed the new religion had no sooner ascended the throne,

and assumed the reins of arbitrary power, but she was surrounded with

myriads of unphilosophic converts, and in her progress to despotism,

drew after her the capital of Rome; and at once fixed the destruction

of its ancient empire. And thus we may see that the writings of

Iamblichus were perfectly correspondent to the depravity of the times.

The most celebrated disciple of Iamblichus, appears to have been one

Œdesius a Cappadocian, who was of noble birth; but, as is generally the

case with philosophers, possessed but a slender estate. According to

Eunapius who wrote his life, he was not much inferior to Iamblichus,

except in a divine afflatus, which seems to have been peculiar to

that illustrious hero. To Œdesius we may add Maximus and Dexippus,

both disciples of Iamblichus; and frequently cited by Simplicius in

his elaborate commentary on the predicaments of Aristotle. But here

we must regret, that none of the immediate successors of Iamblichus,

contributed any thing to the advancement of the ancient theology. They

reverenced indeed the arduous flights, and divine genius of their

master; but never attempted even to imitate, what they could not equal,

and were content to gravel without presuming to soar. The iniquitous

times indeed of the emperor Constantine, may afford a reasonable

apology for the decay of genius, and the langour of philosophy. The

destructive rod of ecclesiastical empire was already extended; and

its lethargic influence was already felt on the active spirit of

liberal investigation. Religious faction had now started from the

bosom of delusion; and _holy_ persecution, was hastening from the

infernal seats, to massacre the nations, and deluge Europe and Asia

in blood. The peaceful and instructive disputes of philosophers, were

now beginning to be exchanged for the jargon of orthodox and heterodox

sectaries; and the calm voice of ancient theology, was silenced by the

barbarous and tumultuous sounds, of Arian and Trinitarian clamours.

This alarming change however, checked only for a short period, the

generous ardour of the philosophic genius: for the æra was now at

hand in which theology was destined to display the full blaze of

her celestial light. _Sacred_ zeal indeed presumed to hurl the

darts of _faith_, against her venerable person: but her arm was

destitute of vigour, and her weapons fell innocent to the ground. The

buckler of _true_ theology was not to be transpierced, by such

imbecil darts; and the attempt was like that of weak old Priam, against

the strong and youthful Pyrrhus.

---- ----telumque imbelle fine ictu

Conjecit; rauco quod protenus ære repulsum,

Et summo clypei necquicquam umbone pependit.

But the order of discourse now brings us to a survey of the last

branch of the _theological tree_, in which we may discover amidst

numerous ramifications, and elegant foliage, exhaustless vigour, and

luxuriant fruit. The source of this illustrious branch was the great

Athenian Plutarch, of whom such honourable mention has been made, in

the preceding life of Proclus[98]. To Plutarch succeeded Syrianus

and Olympiodorus; and to these Hermeas and Proclus. It was by the

labours of this last philosophical hero, that theology received the

consummation of excellence, and exhibited diffused elegance, combined

with majesty and strength. This will be evident from perusing his life,

and studying his more abstruse writings, among which the following

elements may be deservedly ranked. Though Marinus as we have observed

in the life of Proclus, was his immediate successor, yet Asclepiodotus

the master of Damascius, was his best disciple; and was most capable

of receiving the exuberant streams of wisdom, which vigorously flowed

from his philosophic mind. After Asclepiodotus an illustrious series of

philosophers succeeded, who terminated the golden chain of Platonists,

and were the last advocates for the dignity of ancient wisdom and

theology. These great men were Zenodotus, Severianus, Ammonius Hermias,

Hierius, Asclepius, Simplicius, Isidorus, Damascius, Diogenes, Eulalius

and Priscian. But of all these, none except Damascius, appears to have

contributed any thing to the perfection of theology: for the works

of the rest consist for the most part in excellent commentaries on

Aristotle; but Damascius, in his book, on principles, has preserved

a most valuable store of recondite wisdom, and unfolded some of the

sublimest mysteries of ancient theology. This inestimable work is

however still in manuscript, and is not likely in the present age to

emerge from its shameful concealment.

Seven of the preceding illustrious heroes, who were united by

friendship as well as philosophy, Damascius the Syrian, Simplicius

of Cilicia, Eulalius the Phrygian, Priscian the Lydian, Hermias

and Diogenes of Phœnicia, and Isidorus of Gaza, disgusted with the

religion of their sovereign Justinian, determined to seek from

Chosroes the Persian king, that liberty of conduct which their native

country denied. Chosroes though a barbarian, was deeply skilled in

the philosophy of Plato and Aristotle; and was so imbued with the

dogmata of Plato, that not one of his abstruse dialogues escaped his

penetrating genius. The ill success however of these philosophers

in their journey to Persia, gives us reason to suspect that the

philosophic attainments of Chosroes, were influenced more by pride than

the love of truth: and that he affected the name without possessing the

requisites of a sage. The return of these philosophers was precipitate,

and their disappointment extreme. They derived however a considerable

advantage from their expedition; and the conduct of Chosroes in this

particular will confer immortal honour on his character and name. He

was the means of procuring for the seven sages, an exemption from the

barbarous penal laws of Justinian against the Pagans; and thus enabled

them to end their days in security and peace, and in the enjoyment of

that liberty of conscience which no religion before the Christian, ever

attempted to destroy.

The reign of Justinian, indeed, as it firmly established the Christian

religion, terminated the glorious empire of philosophy, by suppressing

the schools of Athens, and suspending the ecclesiastical sword over the

heads of heathen theologists. But the fall of philosophy was naturally

succeeded by the darkness of delusion and ignorance; by the spirit

of wild fanaticism, and intolerant zeal; by the loss of courage and

virtue; and by the final dissolution of the empire of the world, She

was ruined indeed but not without revenge. War, pestilence, and famine,

were the scourges of a prince who had presumed to demolish her schools,

and intercept the diffusion of her sacred light: and his reign was

disgraced by an irreparable decrease of mankind, in the most fertile

regions of the earth. We may add too that his dominions were alarmed

with the dreadful blaze of two mighty comets, whose malignant light

foretold approaching calamities and war; and signified perhaps the

establishment of religious anarchy, and the commencement of _barbarous

impiety_ and folly. And to complete this catalogue of prodigies and

desolation, every year of his reign was marked with violent earthquakes

of uncommon duration, and incredible extent. The whole surface of

the Roman empire was agitated with horrid internal convulsions; and

enormous chasms were formed by the earth’s strong vibrations. Large

bodies were discharged into the air, and the sea concurring in the

general ruin, overflowed or deserted its natural bounds, by alternately

advancing and retreating with accumulated majesty and strength: and

a mountain was torn from Libanus, and hurled into the waves, amidst

the dreadful tossings of the deep. History after this period exhibits

nothing but religious dissensions, despicable _councils_, and bigoted

sects; the enmity of _saints_, and the discord of Nestorians and

Jacobites, Maronites and Armenians, Copts and Abyssinians. _Religious_

war, and _pious_ rebellion succeeded to philosophical theory; and

Nestor and Cyril led the confused and clamorous dance of ecclesiastical

disputation.

It would neither be consistent with the design of this history,

pleasing to the author, nor entertaining to the Platonic reader

to trace the rapid increase of barbarism and ignorance, after the

abolition of the Athenian and Alexandrian schools. It will be

sufficient to observe that the jargon of innumerable sects, established

a tyranny unknown to the Pagan world, the tyranny of religious

despotism; and finally extirpated from the earth, the dominion of

ancient wisdom and virtue. From the incredible multitude of different

persuasions, Christianity lost all appearance of a _revelation_;

and by the conduct of its professors, seemed rather calculated to

confound than illuminate mankind. The same infatuated spirit has indeed

marked its progress to the present day; and we find that in proportion

as this baneful zeal prevails, knowledge retires, virtue droops,

and magnanimity is destroyed: hypocrisy becomes the substitute for

generosity; and whining cant succeeds the decent confidence, inspired

by genuine dignity and worth. As the rapidity of a river is increased

by the contraction of its channel; so its vigour is diminished by the

multiplication of its streams. In a similar manner, the influence of

any religion is lessened, when it is divided into various streams

of opinion, by the discord of party, and the zeal of profession.

The energy of the whole is lost by diffusion; and the river of the

_Church_ is weakened by the numerous and narrow rivulets of

_Dissenters_. Experience unfortunately shews, that the professors

of a national religion, are generally men of greater integrity, than

those who compose the dissenting sects; and the fact may be supported

by a rational theory. The trifling employments, groveling cares, and

contemptible fame which are necessarily connected with religious

dissension, unavoidably debilitate the mind, and contract the heart.

The whole attention is engrossed in regarding the little concerns,

and supporting the narrow opinions of a party; and that strength of

understanding, and integrity of character, which are requisite to

acquire eminence in science and virtue, are lost in imbecile exertions

and hypocritical cant. It is on this account that I should prefer a

dissenter in Scotland, and a papist in France, to a dissenter and

catholic in England: for in those countries they cease to be sectaries,

and may consequently in some degree become virtuous and wise.

It seems at first sight surprising that there should be no sects

among the Grecian polytheists: they were unanimous in their belief of

a multitude of gods subordinate to one supreme: their mode of worship

was uniformly the same; and they appear to have had no conception

of religious innovation. Shall we say that a religion is false in

proportion to its unity; that truth may be branched out into an endless

variety of discordant streams; and that error alone resists the power

of copious and confused division? Such a speculation is indeed curious,

but not safe; and its result would perhaps be more logical than

_orthodox_, and more informing than discreet! Let us therefore direct

our attention, to a more important subject, and consider the excellence

of the Christian religion with respect to the commercial interests of

mankind. That Christianity is not favourable to philosophy (I mean

that of the ancients) is evident from its causing the destruction

of the ancient schools; which it has not yet restored, though more

than a thousand years have elapsed since their dissolution. Indeed

the wisdom of a _sage_, is not likely to coincide with the doctrine

of a _fisherman_; and implicit faith, ills suits with liberal doubt,

and severe investigation. However, the spirit of _meekness_, which

Christianity so admirably inculcates, though opposite to the _dignity_

of philosophy, promotes the humility of merchandize, and facilitates

the emoluments of trade. It enables men to suppress their passions

from considerations of interest; teaches them to refer every thing

to private advantage; and to consider magnanimity as a dangerous and

arrogant virtue. It is to this spirit, that we must ascribe the great

extent of commerce, in all the civilized parts of the world; and that

Europe is much richer, though less wise than of old. The spirit of

meekness by gradually suppressing the noble ardour of ancient heroism,

and withdrawing the attention from abstract investigations, as daring

and presumptuous, has given birth to innumerable discoveries in the

arts, unknown to the speculative genius of antiquity. Hence the

luxuries of life have received an immense improvement; and the spirit

of meekness though not calculated to soar, has wandered over the

surface of the earth, and diffused its _humble_ blessings even to the

remote regions of the poles. Penetrating and smooth, it has crept like

oil, through the communities of mankind; and increased the activity,

by lubricating the joints of the flexible body of Commerce. As oil too

allays the fury of the sea, and calms its agitated waves; so meekness

suppresses the effervescence of desire, restrains the restless spirit

of enquiry, and calms the impetuosity of genius. Hence though we are no

longer surprised with the daring exploits, and prodigious talents which

distinguished the ancient world, yet we can boast a greater uniformity

of character, a more general equality in moderate attainments, and a

more interested spirit. In consequence of this universal mediocrity,

our capacity for commerce increased, and our abilities enlarged, for

accumulating wealth by groveling pursuits. But the most important

advantage acquired by the spirit of meekness, is that mentioned by the

great apostle of the Gentiles, “of becoming all things to all men.”

The benefits indeed which such a pliability of temper confers on a

commercial kingdom, compose so great a part of the arcana of traffic,

that revelation alone could have made mankind sensible of their

importance. Meekness like Proteus assumes every possible appearance

which the interest of concealment may require; and philosophy alone can

trace it, through its multiform shapes, and vanquish its transforming

power.

But though we excel the ancients in the virtue of meekness, and its

attendant arts, we are infinitely below them in the cultivation of

intellectual philosophy. By the invention of the microscope and

telescope, we have indeed discovered the structure of the subtile parts

of body, and beheld stars invisible to the ancient world. Hence our

knowledge of particulars has received, and is continually receiving an

immense increase: but we forget that particulars are infinite, and that

while they produce the fleeting fabric of opinion, they are incapable

of forming the steady and permanent basis of science. The doctrine

of causes, was the object of ancient investigation: the enumeration

of effects is the busy employment of the moderns. Experimental

inquiries have enabled the philosopher of the present day to solve

partial phænomena, and to deceive the importunities of doubt by the

intervention of secondary causes. However, arguments derived from the

modifications of matter, can only satisfy superficial enquirers; and

will be indignantly rejected, by the profound and contemplative genius.

So far from deriving any illumination by accumulated experiments, the

professors of this philosophy confess their ignorance of principles;

and neglect their investigation under the specious pretext of declining

hypotheses. On the contrary the philosophers of antiquity impelled

by intellectual dignity and strength, ascended to principles, as the

pillars of the universe, and the sources of conviction and repose.

Hence they glorified in asserting and vindicating the capacious powers

of the soul: and by severe investigation, experienced the serene

splendours of knowledge, and banished the anxieties of doubt. The

intellectual philosophy refines the morals while it enlightens the

mind, and improves the heart while it exalts the powers of imagination

and thought. On the contrary the mechanical philosophy produces

opposite consequences, by introducing the darkness of ignorance, and

debasing the energies of the soul.

But there cannot I think be a more egregious instance of the barren

state of philosophy at present, than the prevailing opinion that the

most valuable knowledge is derived from common life, and the general

conduct of mankind. The manners of the multitude, so far from affording

any really valuable information, exhibit nothing but specimens of

folly and vice, astonishingly various, and differently combined. A

knowledge of this kind may indeed be necessary to the man who wishes

to accumulate wealth, and acquire popular honours; but is infinitely

remote from the possession of true wisdom, and the true cultivation of

human understanding. The best, as well as the most exalted knowledge,

is as we have already proved[99], that which is desirable for its

own sake; which confers felicity on its possessor, and gives a final

respite to the arduous labour of mental investigation. The knowledge of

common things, is alone the province of common, or uncultivated minds;

and men of great genius in every age, have been distinguished by their

happy ignorance of the trifling pursuits, and empty attainments of

the vulgar. Indeed he who mixes much with the multitude, necessarily

imbibes false opinions and engages in puerile occupations: the strength

and activity of his mind, is continually weakened, or unworthily

exerted, by a general diffusion; and he at length loses all that

intellectual energy, which nature first implants, but retirement calls

forth into the blossoms of elegance, and the perfection of vigor.

The late Dr. Johnson is a striking instance of the truth of these

observations; and a lasting example of the wretchedness of a mind

unenlightened by philosophy. His talents were indeed vast and uncommon,

but degraded by false cultivation and ruined through neglect. Hence he

employed himself solely on subjects of vulgar speculation and thought

deeply on nothing but the vices and follies of the illiterate and the

base. Like a giant in the dark, his strokes were indeed powerful, but

often ineffectual; and were never directed by the hand of wisdom, or

assisted by the irradiations of truth. Thus he constantly displayed

strength without skill, and exertion without knowledge, abilities

without genius, and grandeur without a grace. He appears to resemble

indeed nothing so much as the eyeless Polypheme. Deprived of the

cheering light of science and philosophy, he wandered in the caverns

of sense, wretched through the want of sight, and avoided by the timid

multitude who trembled at his strength. To approach him too near was

generally destructive of the order of society, and often fatal to the

peace of bold but ignorant individuals.

His piety too as well as his literary talents shews how little of

felicity is to be expected where philosophy is wanting. For though

he professed to believe in the immortality of the soul, he was a

perpetual slave to the dread of death: and though he was continually

exercised in the externals of religion, he could find no consolation

when alone. There is nothing indeed whose certainty is so generally

admitted in discourse as the soul’s immortality; and yet nothing at

present is so generally disbelieved. For I will not disgrace the word

belief, by supposing it possible that a man can be firmly assured of

this important truth, and yet continually seek for arguments in defence

of its reality. This is however the case with modern believers. They

profess reverence for the decisions, and faith in the doctrines of

revelation; but are glad to seek for conviction in the arguments of

philosophy. Faith is found sufficient to support the mind, while it

reclines on the bosom of the church, or clings round the pillars of

orthodox opinion. But when it is once shaken by enquiry and staggered

by doubt; when it leaves the enchanted enclosure of faith, and ventures

on the wide ocean of enquiry; it can alone find security in the harbour

of reason, and rest in the embraces of philosophy.

Dr. Johnson is however celebrated by his female biographer as “a man

good beyond the imitation of mortals.” As if goodness could ever reside

in a soul perpetually harassed with fears, and agitated with passion;

distracted with the prospects of futurity, and afraid of retiring into

itself. Is it not ridiculous to suppose that a consciousness of virtue

and worth can ever be combined with misery and fear; or that the steady

and serene light of truth can ever dwell enshrined in the gloom of

despondence, or beam through a mind disturbed and clouded with care?

“The good man says Plotinus is ever tranquil and serene, undisturbed

by passion, and superior to grief:” and that religion is but of

little worth, which confers on its votary nothing but the torments of

anxiety from consciousness of inward folly or vice; and the dread of

dissolution from the uncertainty of its result. We may rest assured

that no one can be truly worthy who is wretched in himself: for to be

truly good is to resemble the divinity: and to suppose that misery

can be combined with such a character, is to ascribe imperfection to

deity, and unhappiness to the fountain of good. For the exemplar cannot

be contrary to its image, though it may be infinitely superior in

excellence and dignity of nature.

And thus much for a history of the restoration of the Platonic

theology by the latter Platonists. I only add, that I am in no respect

a debtor to the gratitude of the public: for my writings hitherto,

have neither been attentively studied, nor liberally received. Solely

influenced by the love of truth, I have endeavoured to disseminate

the wisdom of Greece, and to draw aside the mystic veil of recondite

theology: but experience has convinced me that the period of philosophy

is past; and that some fortunate revolution can alone restore its

fallen honours, and establish its original sway. Should the present

work survive the literary wreck, which will probably precede the

revival of philosophy, I shall consider myself amply rewarded for

the toil of its execution: and I am not ashamed of owning, that the

pleasing hopes of such an event have inspired me with the patience and

vigour requisite to so laborious an undertaking. In short whatever may

be its immediate or future success, my views have been liberal in the

publication, and my mental advantages considerable from the study of

ancient philosophy. Amidst the various storms of a life distinguished

by outrage and disease, it has been a never-failing support, and an

inviolable retreat. It has smoothed the brow of care, and dispelled

the gloom of despondence; sweetened the bitterness of grief, and

lulled agony to rest. After reaping such valuable advantages from

its acquisition, I am already rewarded, though my labours should be

unnoticed by the present and future generation. The lyre of true

philosophy is no less tuneful in the desert than in the city; and he

who knows how to call forth its latent harmony in solitude, will not

want the testimony of the multitude to convince him that its melody is

extatic and divine.

ELEMENTS

OF

THEOLOGY[100].

ON THE ONE.

PROPOSITION I.

All multitude participates in a certain respect of _the one_.

For if it in no respect participates of _the one_, neither will the

whole be one whole, nor each of the many from which the multitude is

composed: but each of these will also be multitude, and this will

be the case in infinitum; and each of these infinites will again be

infinite multitude. For if it in no respect participates of _the one_,

neither according to its whole self, nor according to each of its

parts, every where, and throughout there will be infinite multitude.

For each of these _manys_, which ever you assume, will either be _one_

or _not one_, will either be multitude or nothing. But if each of

these manys be nothing, that which is composed from them shall also be

nothing. But if each be many, then each shall consist from infinite

infinites. But these consequencies are impossible. Since no being is

composed from infinite infinities[101]. For there is nothing greater

than infinite. But that which is constituted from all is greater than

each particular. Nor can any thing be composed from nothing. All

multitude therefore participates in a certain respect of _the one_.

PROPOSITION II.

Every thing which participates of the one, is both _one_ and

_not one_.

For if it be not _the one itself_ (αὐτοὲν) (since it participates

_of the one_) because it is something different from _the one_, it

suffers _the one_, by participation, and sustains itself to become

one. If then it be nothing else besides _the one_, it is one alone,

and does not participate of _the one_, but is _the one itself_. But

if it be something different from _the one_, which is not _the one_,

but its participant, it is both _not one_ and _one_, not indeed the

self-subsisting _one_, but _one being_, as participating of the _one

itself_. This then is neither _one_, nor does it subsist as _the one_,

but it is _one being_, at the same time participating of _the one_, and

on this account, since it is not the self-subsisting one, it is both

_one_ and _not one_, because it is something different from _the one_.

For so far as it abounds it is _not one_; but so far as it is passive

from participation, it becomes _one_. Every thing therefore which

participates of _one_, is both _one_, and _not one_.

PROPOSITION III.

Every thing which becomes one, becomes so through the

participation of one; and is one, so far as it suffers the

participation of one.

For if things which are not one, become one, it must be by a

conjunction, and communication with each other: and they will sustain

the presence of one, without being _one itself_. Hence they will

participate one, so far as they suffer themselves to become one. For if

they are already one, they will not become one: since that which is,

does not become that which it already is. But if they are formed from

non-one, and privation, they will in the first place possess one, from

some _one_, being ingenerated in their nature.

PROPOSITION IV.

Every thing united, is different from the _one itself_.

For if it is united it will participate of one, so far as it is called

united. And that which participates of one is both one, and non-one.

But _one itself_, is by no means one and non-one. For if this also

was both one and non-one, the one which it contains will also possess

both, and this in infinitum; since there is no _one itself_ in which

the progression can stop; but every thing will be both one and non-one.

That which is united therefore is something different from one. For

if that which is united was the same with one, one would be infinite

multitude; and in like manner each of the parts from which the united

nature is composed.

PROPOSITION V.

All multitude is posterior to the one itself.

For if multitude is prior to the one, the one indeed will participate

of multitude, but the multitude which is prior to the one, will not

participate of the one: since it is multitude prior to the subsistence

of the one. For it cannot participate that which is not: because that

which participates of the one, is both one and non-one. But the one

does not yet subsist, since multitude is the first. It is however

impossible, that there should be any multitude, which in no respect

participates of the one. Multitude therefore is not prior to the one.

But if multitude subsists together with the one, it will be of the

same order with the one: for time cannot hinder such a conjunction.

Hence neither the one can be essentially many, nor multitude one,

because they are at the same time contra-distinguished; since neither

is prior, or posterior to the other. Multitude therefore will not be

essentially one, and every thing it contains will be a non-one, and

this in infinitum, which is impossible. Hence it naturally participates

of the one, nor can any part of it be assumed which is not one: for if

any part is not one, it will be an infinite composed from infinites,

as we have demonstrated. And hence it entirely participates of the

one. But if the one which is one itself, in no respect participates

of multitude, multitude will be perfectly posterior to the one;

participating indeed of the one, but not participated by the one. But

if the one should participate of multitude in such a manner as to

exist as one according to subsistence, but as not one according to

participation; the one itself will be multiplied, in the same manner

as multitude is united by the one. Hence the one will communicate with

multitude, and multitude with the one. But things which coalesce, and

communicate after a manner with each other, if they are congregated

by something else, that something must have a prior existence. But

if they connect themselves, they are not opposed to each other: for

opposites do not hasten to a mutual conjunction. But if the one, and

multitude have a contrary division, and multitude, so far as multitude,

is not one, and the one so far as one, is not multitude; hence the one

cannot subsist in the other: for they would be at the same time both

one and two. But if there be any thing prior to the one, and multitude

which collects them into one, this will either be one, or non-one. And

if non-one, it will either be many, or nothing. But it is not many;

lest multitude should be prior to the one. Nor is it nothing: for

how can that congregate which is nothing? Hence it is the one alone.

For this one is not also many, lest we should advance in an infinite

progression. It is therefore the one itself; and all multitude proceeds

from the one.

CONCERNING UNITY.

PROPOSITION VI.

Every multitude is either composed from things united, or from unities.

For that every one of things many is not multitude alone, is evident;

and it is likewise clear that each part of this multitude again, is not

multitude alone. But if it be not multitude alone, it is either united,

or unities. And indeed if it participates of unity it is united: but

if it be composed from things primarily united, it is unities. For if

there be one itself, there is also that which primarily participates

the one, and is primarily united. But this is composed from unities.

For if it is composed from things united, these are again united from

certain others, and this will take place in infinitum. But it is

requisite that a nature which is primarily united, should be composed

from unities. And thus we have discovered what we proposed in the

beginning.

Concerning PRODUCING CAUSES, and THINGS PRODUCED.

PROPOSITION VII.

Every thing productive of another, is more excellent than the nature of

the thing produced.

For it is either more excellent, or worse, or equal. Let it be in the

first place, equal.

That which is produced from this therefore, will itself also, either

possess a power productive of some other, or it will be entirely

barren. But if it be barren, it will on this account be worse than its

producing cause: and because of its inefficacy, it will be unequal

to that which is prolific, and possesses a productive power. But if

it be productive of other natures, it will either produce that which

is equal to itself (and this will be the case in all things, and all

beings will be equal to each other, and nothing will be more excellent

than another, since the productive nature always constitutes the thing

produced equal to itself), or that which is unequal. But in this case,

it will not be equal to its producing cause: for it is the property of

equal powers to fabricate equal effects. But the productions of these

are unequal to each other, since on this hypothesis the producing

cause, is equal to that which is prior to itself, but that which is

posterior is unequal to it. It is requisite, therefore, that the thing

produced should not be equal to its producing cause.

But neither can the producing cause be over worse than the thing

produced. For if the producing cause, confers essence on the thing

produced, it bestows power also, according to essence. And if it is

productive of all the power which that posterior to itself possesses,

it can also make itself such as its production. But if it can do this,

it will also make itself more powerful: for impotence cannot hinder,

since a fabricative power is present, nor a defect of will: for all

things, naturally desire good. Hence if it can form any thing else more

prefect, it will also perfect itself, before it perfects that which is

posterior to itself. The thing produced, therefore, is neither equal

to, no more excellent than its producing cause: and hence the producing

cause is entirely more excellent than the nature of the thing produced.

On the FIRST GOOD, which is called THE GOOD ITSELF.

PROPOSITION VIII.

The first good which is no other than good itself, precedes all the

participants of good.

For if all beings desire good, it is evident that the first good is

above beings. For if he is the same with any one being, either being is

the same with the good, and so this particular being, will no longer be

desirous of good, since it is the good itself; for that which desires

any thing, is indigent of that which it desires, and by its desire is

different and foreign: or being and the good are different; and the

good, will indeed participate of being, and being of the good. It is,

therefore, a particular good resident in some particular participant,

but not good simple and universal, and which all beings desire: for

this is the common object of desire to all beings. But that which

is generated in another, participates alone of that, in which it is

generated. The first good therefore is nothing besides good. For if you

add any thing else, by addition you diminish the good itself; effecting

a particular good, instead of good simple and universal. For that which

is added, since it is not good itself, but something less, diminishes

by its essence the good itself.

Concerning that which is SUFFICIENT TO ITSELF.

PROPOSITION IX.

Every thing sufficient to itself, either according to essence,

or according to energy, is more excellent than that which is

insufficient, and the cause of whose perfection depends on

another cause.

For if all beings, naturally desire good, and one thing supplies

itself with good, but another is indigent of something else; the

former, will indeed have the cause of good present, but the latter

separate and apart. By how much the nearer, therefore, that is which

affords the object of desire, by so much the more excellent will it be

than that which requires a separate cause, and externally receives the

perfection of its being or energy. Besides, that which is sufficient,

is both similar and diminished, and more similar to the good itself.

It is diminished, because it participates good, and because it is not

the first good. Yet it is in some respect allied to the good, because

it can possess good from itself. But that which participates, and

participates through another, is more distant from the first good,

which is nothing else than good.

PROPOSITION X.

Every thing sufficient to itself is worse than that which is simply

good.

For what is that which is sufficient, than that which from itself, and

in itself, possesses good? But this is now full of good, which also

it participates: but it is not the simply good. For that, as has been

demonstrated, is more excellent than the participation and repletion

of good. If then that which is sufficient fills itself with good, that

from which it fills itself will be more excellent than that which is

sufficient, and will be superior to sufficiency: for that which is

simply good is not indigent of any thing. For it does not desire any

other; since by desire it would be imperfect; and thus would be full of

good, and not the first good.

CONCERNING CAUSE.

PROPOSITION XI.

All beings proceed from one first cause.

For either there is no cause of beings, or the causes of all

terminated beings revolve in a circle, or there is an infinite ascent

of causes; so that one thing is the cause of another, and the prior

subsistence (προυπόϛασις) of essence, no where stops its progression.

But if there be no cause of beings, neither will there be an order

of things second and first; of the perfecting, and perfect; of the

adorning, and adorned; of the generating, and generated; of the active

and passive: nor will there be any science of beings. For the knowledge

of causes is the employment of science: and we then assert that we

know, when we know the causes of beings. But if causes revolve in a

circle, the same causes will be both prior and posterior, more powerful

and more debile. For every thing which produces is more excellent than

the nature of the thing produced. But there is no difference, whether

we conjoin the cause with the thing caused by many, or fewer mediums,

and place the thing caused as subordinate. For the cause is more

excellent than all the intervening natures of which it is the cause:

and by how much the greater the number of mediums, by so much the more

is it a cause. But if there be an addition of causes in infinitum, and

one always proceeds from another; on this hypothesis likewise science

cannot subsist: for there is no knowledge of infinites. But causes

being unknown, neither can there be any science of things subsequent to

causes. If, therefore, it is requisite that there should be a cause of

beings, and causes are distinct from things caused, and there can be

no infinite ascent; there will be a first cause of beings, from which

as a root particulars proceed, some of which exist in propinquity, and

others at a distance from his nature. For that it is necessary there

should be one principle, is demonstrated; because all multitude is

secondary to the one.

PROPOSITION XII.

The principle and first cause of all beings is the good.

For if all things proceed from one cause, it is requisite to call

that cause, either the good, or more excellent than the good. But if

it be more excellent than the good, we ask whether _any thing_

emanates from this cause into beings, and into the nature of beings,

or _nothing_? And indeed if nothing, it will be absurd: for we

cannot, on this hypothesis, any longer preserve it in the order of

a cause; since it is every where requisite that something should be

present from the cause to the things caused, and especially from the

first cause, from which all things depend, and through which every

being exists. But if there is a participation of this first cause in

beings, in the same manner as there is of the good, there will be

something _more excellent_ than goodness, penetrating into beings

from the first cause. For since it is more excellent, and superior to

the good, it cannot bestow on secondary natures any thing worse than

the benefits distributed by that which is posterior to itself. But what

can be more excellent than goodness itself? Since we apply the term

more excellent to that which participates more of the good. If then

that which is non-good, is not more excellent, it must be posterior to

the good. But if, likewise, all beings desire good, how can any thing

be prior to this cause? For if good also desires, how can it be good

in the most eminent degree? But if it does not desire, must not all

beings desire that cause of all, from which they proceed? And if it is

the good itself, from which all beings depend, the good must be the

principle and first cause of all.

PROPOSITION XIII.

Every Good is endued with a power of uniting its participants,

and every union is good; and _the good itself_, is the same

with _the one_.

For if the good itself is the preserver of all beings, and on this

account is desirable by all, but the one itself, preserves and contains

the essence of each: (for all things are preserved by the one, and

dispersion removes every thing from essence) hence the good causes

those things to be one, to which it is present, and contains them by

union. But if the one is endued with a congregating and containing

power, it perfects every being by its presence: and hence it is good to

all things to be united. But if union is essentially good, and good is

unific (or unifying), the simply good, and the simply one is the same:

at the same time uniting, and benefiting beings. Hence it is, that

things which in a certain respect fall from good, are also deprived

of the participation of one: and that things which are destitute of

the one, because they are replete with separation, are after the same

manner likewise deprived of good.

COROLLARY.

Hence both goodness is union, and union is goodness; and the good is

the one, and the one is the first good.

Concerning an IMMOVEABLE, and SELF-MOTIVE PRINCIPLE

or CAUSE.

PROPOSITION XIV.

Every being is either immoveable, or moved; and if moved, it is either

moved by itself, or by another.

In the first place if it is moved by itself, it is self-motive, but if

by another, it is alter-motive (ἑτεροκίνητον.) Every being therefore,

is either immoveable, or self-motive, or alter-motive. For it is

necessary, that since there are alter-motive natures, there should

be something immoveable, and between these, a self-motive nature.

For if every thing alter-motive, when in motion is moved by another,

motions are either performed in a circle, or in infinitum. But they can

neither subsist in a circle, nor in infinitum, since all beings are

terminated by a principle, and the motive nature, is more excellent

than the thing moved. Something immoveable therefore will be the first

mover. But if this be the case, it is necessary that there should be

something self-motive. For should all things stand still, what will

that be which is first moved? It cannot be the immoveable itself, for

motion is not natural to this. Nor the alter-motive, for it is moved by

another. It remains therefore that the self-motive, must be that which

is first moved; since it is this which unites the alter-motive to the

immoveable, existing as a medium, moving, and at the same time moved.

For of those, the one moves alone, and the other is alone moved. Every

being therefore, is either immoveable, or self-motive, or alter-motive.

COROLLARY.

From hence also it is evident, that of things which are moved, a

self-motive nature is the first, but of things motive, an immoveable

nature.

Concerning an INCORPOREAL ESSENCE, and its PROPERTIES.

PROPOSITION XV.

Every thing which is converted to itself, is incorporeal.

For no body is naturally adapted to be converted to itself. For if that

which is converted to any thing, is conjoined to that to which it is

converted, it is evident that all the parts of a body must be conjoined

with all the parts of that which is converted to itself: since

self-conversion then takes place, when that which is converted becomes

one with that to which it is converted. But this is impossible in body,

and in all partible natures. For the whole of that which is partible,

is not conjoined with the whole, on account of the separation of the

parts which are differently situated. No body therefore is naturally

adapted to self-conversion, so that the whole may be converted to

the whole. And hence whatever is self-convertive is incorporeal and

impartible.

PROPOSITION XVI.

Every thing which is converted to itself, has an essence separate

from all body.

For if it be inseparable from any body, it will not possess some action

separable from body. For if essence is inseparable from body, it is

impossible that an essential energy should be separable: since in this

case energy would be more excellent than essence; because the latter

would be indigent of bodies, but the former would be sufficient to

itself, without requiring the assistance of body. If then any thing

be inseparable according to essence, it must be so likewise according

to energy, or indeed more inseparable. But if this be the case, it is

not converted to itself. For that which is converted to itself, as

it is different from body, has an energy separate from body, neither

subsisting through body, nor in conjunction with its nature: since

action, and that to which action is directed, is not indigent of body.

Hence that which is converted to itself, is entirely separable from

bodies.

PROPOSITION XVII.

Every thing which moves itself primarily, is endued with a

self-convertive power.

For if it moves itself its motive energy also is resident in its

nature, and the thing moving is at the same time one with the thing

moved. For either it moves with a part, but is moved in a part, or

the contrary. But if one part is motive, and another part is moved,

it will not be essentially self-motive, because it will subsist from

non-self-motive natures: and it will appear indeed self-motive,

but will not be so essentially. But if the whole moves, and a part

is moved, or the contrary, there will be some part in each, which,

according to one, will be at the same time both moving and moved[102]:

and this will be primarily self-motive. But if one and the same moves

and is moved, it will possess with itself the energy of moving, because

it is self-motive; but it will be converted to that in which it

energises. Every thing therefore primarily self-motive is converted to

itself.

PROPOSITION XVIII.

Every thing which supplies being to others, is that primarily which it

bestows on the things supplied.

For if it gives being, it procures the communication from its own

essence. But that which it gives is worse than its own essence: and

that which it is, is more excellent and perfect. For every artificer of

any thing, is more excellent than the nature of the thing fabricated:

and hence that which pre-exists in the donor, is more sublime than the

gift; for the one is primary, but the other secondary and subordinate.

For it is necessary, either that both should be the same, and that

there should be one reason of both; or that nothing should be common,

or the same in both; or that this should be first, but that the second.

But if there be, one and the same reason, or definition, the one will

no longer be cause, and the other effect; nor this in itself, but

that in the thing given; nor will this be the efficient, but that the

effect. But if they have nothing the same, the remainder will not

subsist, in consequence of the existence of the other, because it will

communicate nothing to its being. It remains therefore, that this which

bestows is first; but that which is bestowed is second; among which

the being of the one is supplied from the other.

PROPOSITION XIX.

Every thing which is primarily inherent in any of the natures

among beings, is present to all the beings distributed according

to that nature, in one reason, and after the same manner.

For if it be not present to all after the same manner, but to these,

and not to those; it is evident that it will not be primarily inherent

in that nature. But it will be present with some primarily, and in

others which participate sometimes but not always, secondarily. For

that which sometimes subsists, and sometimes not, does not exist

primarily, nor essentially, but is adventitious, and extrinsically

accedes to the natures in which it resides.

Concerning the GRADATION OF BEINGS.

PROPOSITION XX.

The essence of soul is superior to all bodies; and an

intellectual nature is superior to all souls: and the one itself

is superior to all intellectual essences.

For every body is moved by another, but is naturally incapable of

moving itself. But it is moved by itself, through the participation of

soul: it likewise lives through soul, and by means of its presence, is

after a manner self-motive; but when soul is absent it is alter-motive;

because it is essentially endued with this nature, but soul is allotted

a self-motive essence. For it imparts self-mobility to whatever it

supervenes. But soul is much prior to that which it essentially

imparts. It is therefore above bodies, as a self-motive essence: since

these become self-motive through participation. Again, soul which is

moved from itself has the second order from an immoveable nature,

existing immoveable in energy; because a self-motive nature precedes

all things that are moved, but an immoveable essence, all moving

natures. If therefore soul which is self-motive, moves others, it

is requisite that an immoveable mover, should be prior to soul. But

intellect moves, existing immoveable, and always energising according

to the same. For soul participates through intellect of eternal

intelligence; in the same manner as body participates through soul of a

self-motive nature. For if eternal intelligence, was primarily resident

in soul, it would be inherent in all souls; in the same manner as a

self-motive nature. And hence this is not primarily inherent in soul.

It is therefore requisite, that a first-intellective nature should be

prior to soul. Intellect therefore is prior to souls. But the one is

prior to intellect. For intellect though immoveable, is not the one:

since it understands, and energises about itself. But all beings of

whatever kind, participate of the one, but all do not participate of

intellect. For it is necessary that those natures should participate

of knowledge, to whom a portion of intellect is present; because

intellectual cognition, is the principle, and first cause of knowledge.

Hence the one is superior to intellect; nor is there any thing superior

to the one: for the one is the same with the good. But the good is the

principle of all things, as we have demonstrated.

That INTELLECT is not the FIRST CAUSE.

PROPOSITION XXI.

Every order beginning from unity proceeds into some multitude

co-ordinate to unity: and multitude of every order is reduced to

one unity.

For unity possessing the relation of a principle, generates a

multitude proper to itself. Hence one series, and one universal order

descends from unity into multitude. For there would neither be any

order, nor series, if unity was essentially barren. But multitude is

again reduced into one common cause of all co-ordinates. For that

which is the same in every multitude, does not proceed from one of

the things which multitude contains: since that which emanates from

one out of many; is not common to all, but is alone peculiar to the

property of that one. Since therefore according to every order, there

is both a certain communion, coherence, and identity, on account of

which _these_ are said to be co-ordinate, and _those_ of another order,

it is evident that the sameness of every order proceeds from one

principle[103]. There is therefore in every order an unity prior to

multitude, affording one reason, and series to the things ordered in

itself, as well with respect to each other, as likewise to the whole.

For admitting that among things contained under the same series, one

thing is the cause of another, yet it is necessary that before all

things, there should be a cause that the series is one, and that from

it all things should be generated as co-ordinates; not that every thing

may be a particular something, but may exist of this particular order.

COROLLARY.

From hence it is evident that both one and multitude, is inherent in

the nature of body, and that one nature has many coherent natures, and

that many natures depend on the one nature of the universe. And this

property belongs to the order of souls, to begin from one first soul,

and to descend into a multitude of souls, and to reduce multitude

into one. And to an intellectual essence it is peculiar to possess

an intellectual unity, and a multitude of intellects proceeding from

one intellect, and intimately converted to its nature. And to the one

prior to all things, a multitude of unities is present, and to unities

themselves a return to the one. Hence after the first one, unities[104]

subsists; intellects after the first intellect; souls after the first

soul; and natures after universal nature.

PROPOSITION XXII.

Every thing which subsists primarily, and according to the

nature of a principle, is in every order one; and is neither

two, nor more than two, but is universally self-begotten.

For if possible let it be two; since the same absurdity will ensue

should more than two be admitted. Then if it be two, it is either that

which is composed from both unities; and in this case the first will be

one and not two: or it is each of the unities. But in this case, either

one of each, and not both, will be the first; or both will be equally

the first. But if equally, neither of them will be the first: for if

the one is first, but this one is not the same with the other, what

order will it possess? For that subsists primarily, which is nothing

else than what it is denominated. But each of these being different,

the one from the other, each at the same time is, and is not that

which it is said to be. But if these differ from each other, yet not

with respect to that which is called first (for this primarily suffers

identity), both will not be first; but that through the participation

of which, both are said to be first.

COROLLARY.

From hence it is evident that the first being is one alone, and that

there are not two, or more first beings. And that the first intellect

is one alone, but that there are not two first intellects. And that

the first soul is one; and in every particular species, the same

conclusion will result: as for instance the first beautiful, first

equal, and similarly in all the rest. In like manner there is the same

demonstration, with respect to one first form of animal and man.

Concerning the imparticipable[105] (or that which is without

participation), and that which participates.

PROPOSITION XXIII.

Every imparticipable produces from itself participants, and

all participated hypostases, or subsistencies, are reduced to

imparticipable essences.

For an imparticipable possessing the relation of unity, as depending

on itself, and not on another, and as separated from participants,

generates things able to participate. For either it remains in itself

barren, and possesses nothing honourable; or it gives something from

itself. And that which receives from this imparticipable participates,

and that which is given subsists in a participated manner. But every

thing participating of another by which it is generated, is posterior

to that nature which is similarly present to all things, and which

fills all things from itself. For that which subsists in one thing

is not in others: and that which is similarly present to all things,

that it may illustrate all is not in one thing, but before all. For it

either subsists in all, or in one of all, or before all. But that which

subsists in all, because distributed into all, again requires another,

which may unite its divided nature: and all things will no longer

participate of the same, but this will participate one thing, and

that another, if the one is distributed into many. But if it subsists

in one of all, it will no longer be common to all, but to one. If

therefore it is common to things capable of participating powers, and

is likewise common to all, it will be prior to all things. But this is

imparticipable.

PROPOSITION XXIV.

Every participant is inferior to that which it participates, and that

which is participated is subordinate to an imparticipable.

For the participant being imperfect prior to participation, but

becoming perfect through participation, is entirely posterior to that

which it participates; so far as it is perfect through participation.

For so far as it was imperfect, it is inferior to that which it

participates and which is the cause of its perfection. But that which

is participated because common to some one, and not to all, is on this

account allotted a subsistence inferior to that which is common to all,

and not to some particular one: for the latter is more allied, but the

former, less, to the cause of all things. Hence an imparticipable,

precedes things participated; and these last precede participants. And

in short that which is imparticipable is one prior to many; that which

is participated is one in many; and every participant is at the same

time non-one, and one.

CONCERNING THE PERFECT.

PROPOSITION XXV.

Every thing perfect proceeds to the procreation of such offspring as it

is able to produce, imitating the one principle of the universe.

For as the principle of the universe, on account of his goodness is

uniformly constitutive of all beings (for the good is the same with the

one, and on this account that which is endued with the form of good,

is the same with that which is uniform); so things posterior to the

principle, on account of their proper perfection hasten to generate

other things subordinate to their own essence: and this perfection is a

certain portion of the good; and the perfect so far as perfect imitates

the good. But this is constitutive of all things. Hence the perfect

also is naturally productive of things within its power; and that which

is more perfect, by how much the more perfect it is, by so much the

more is it the cause of more numerous productions: for that which is

more perfect, participates more of the good. But this is nearer to the

good, is more allied to the cause of the universe, and is the cause

of more numerous productions. But the imperfect, by how much the more

imperfect it is, by so much the more is it the cause of less numerous

effects: for existing more remote from the producer of all things, it

becomes the cause of fewer effects. For to constitute and adorn, or

perfect, or contain, or vivify, or fabricate all things, and to effect

each of these in many, is allied to the principle of all. But if this

is accomplished in a few it becomes more foreign from the principle.

COROLLARY.

From hence it is evident that matter which is most distant from the

principle of the universe, is barren, and the cause of nothing. For

if it should generate any thing, it would have something posterior

to itself, and it would not be the most remote. But that which it

produces, would be more distant than itself, and because it produces

and imitates the productive cause of all beings, it would be nearer to

the principle of the universe.

CONCERNING THAT WHICH PRODUCES.

PROPOSITION XXVI.

Every cause productive of other things, abiding in itself produces

natures posterior and subsequent to itself.

For if it imitates the one itself, but that immoveably generates

natures posterior to itself, hence every productive nature will in a

similar manner possess the cause of producing. But that the one itself

immoveable generates, is evident from hence. For if he generates

through motion, either motion will be resident or non-resident in his

nature, and that which is moved will be no longer one; because it will

be changed and moved from one. Hence the one will either produce in

infinitum[106], or immoveably. And every producing nature will imitate

the one productive cause of the universe. For from that which is first,

that which is not first every where emanates. And hence from that which

is productive of all things, that which is productive of some things

will proceed. Every producing cause, therefore, produces subsequent

natures, abiding in itself: and while productive natures abide in

themselves undiminished, secondary natures are produced from them. For

that which is in any respect diminished, cannot abide such as it is.

PROPOSITION XXVII.

Every producing nature, on account of its perfection, and abundance of

power is productive of secondary natures.

For if it produces, not on account of its perfection, but through a

defect of power, it cannot preserve its own proper order immovable.

For that which affords being to another, through its defect and

imbecillity, confers on it essence by a mutation and alteration of

itself: but every producing nature abides such as it is, and while

it abides, that which is posterior to itself proceeds into being.

Hence existing full and perfect, it procreates secondary natures

immovably, and without diminution: at the same time existing such as

it is, neither changing itself into its progeny, nor diminishing its

nature. For the thing produced is not a dissection of the parts of the

producing cause: since this is neither proper to generated natures,

nor to generating causes. Nor is it a transition; since it is not

the matter of that which proceeds to generation. For the producing

cause abides such as it is, and the production is different from

itself. That which generates therefore abides without alteration, and

without diminution, multiplying itself through its prolific power, and

supplying from itself secondary subsistencies.

PROPOSITION XXVIII.

Every producing nature generates things similar to itself, prior to

such as are dissimilar.

For since the producing cause is necessarily more excellent than the

thing produced, these can never be mutually the same simply considered,

or equal according to power. But if they are not the same and equal,

but different and unequal; they are either entirely separated from each

other, or they are both united and separate. But if they are entirely

separate, they cannot be conciliated with each other, and the thing

produced will not sympathize with its cause. Hence the one will not

participate of the other, because they are entirely different. For that

which is participated, imparts a communication to its participant,

with respect to that of which it participates. But it is necessary

that the thing caused should participate of the cause, as that from

which its essence is derived. But if that which is produced is in

one respect separated, and in another united to its producing cause;

if it equally suffers both, it equally participates and does not

participate of its producing cause. It will therefore both possess and

not possess an essence from it, after the same manner. But if it should

be more separated, the thing generated will be more foreign from its

generating cause than is proper, and will be to itself more inelegant

than elegant, and more deprived than endued with sympathy of nature.

If then generated natures, are both allied according to essence, and

in sympathy with their causes, naturally depending upon, and desiring

a contact with them, pursuing good and obtaining the object of desire

through cause, it is evident that things produced are more united with

their producing causes than separated from them. And things which are

more united are more similar than dissimilar to the natures with which

they are especially united. Every productive cause therefore generates

things similar prior to such as are dissimilar.

PROPOSITION XXIX.

Every progression is accomplished by a similitude of things secondary

to such as are first.

For if a producing cause generates similars prior to dissimilars,

similitude generates things produced from their producing causes.

For similars become similar through similitude, and not through

dissimilitude. If, therefore, progression in its diminution preserves

the identity of the thing generated to its generator, and exhibits that

which is posterior to itself secondarily, such as itself is primarily,

it will possess its essence through similitude.

PROPOSITION XXX.

Every thing immediately produced from another, both abides in its

producing cause, and proceeds from it.

For if every progression is effected while things first abide, and

is perfected through similitude, things similar subsisting prior to

the dissimilar, the thing produced will abide in a certain respect

in its producing cause: since that which has entirely proceeded from

its cause, possesses nothing the same with that which abides, but is

perfectly separated. But if it possesses any thing in common, and

united with its abiding cause, it will also abide in its cause, in the

same manner as that abides in itself. But if it abides only without

proceeding, it differs nothing from its cause, nor will it while that

abides, be effected something different: for if it is something else,

it will be distinct and separate. But if separate, and its cause

abides, it proceeds from its cause that it may be separated from its

abiding generator. So far, therefore, as the thing produced possesses

any thing the same with its producing cause, it abides in this cause:

but so far as it possesses something different, it proceeds from its

cause. But on account of its similitude, it is at the same time in a

certain respect both the same with, and different from its producing

cause. It abides therefore, and at the same time proceeds with its

cause, and neither is separate from the other.

PROPOSITION XXXI.

Every thing proceeding from another essentially, is converted to that

from which it proceeds.

For if it should indeed proceed, without being converted to the

cause of its progression, it will not desire this cause: since every

desiderative nature (τὸ ὀρεγόμενον) is converted to the object of

its desire. But every being desires good; and its acquisition takes

place through a cause proximate to particulars. Hence particulars

desire their cause. For well-being is distributed to any particular

being, through the same cause as being itself. But desire is primarily

directed to that cause from which well-being proceeds: and conversion

is directed to that, to which desire primarily tends.

PROPOSITION XXXII.

Every conversion is effected by a similitude of the converted natures

to the object of their conversion.

For every thing converting itself to another, hastens to conjoin itself

with the object of its conversion, and desires its communion and

conjunction. But similitude collects all things, in the same manner as

dissimilitude separates and divides. Conversion therefore is a certain

communion and contact. But every communion and every contract is caused

by similitude. And hence every conversion is effected by similitude.

PROPOSITION XXXIII.

[107]Every thing proceeding from, and returning to another, has a

circular energy.

For if it is converted to that from which it proceeds, it conjoins the

beginning with the end. And there is one and a continued motion: this

commencing from, and that proceeding to the abiding nature. Hence all

things proceed circularly, from causes to causes. But these circles

of regression are greater and less: since some conversions proceed

to things proximately placed above them, but others to things more

superior, and so on to the principle of all. For all things proceed

from this, and to this finally return.

PROPOSITION XXXIV.

Every thing which is naturally converted, converts itself to

that from which it derives the progression of its peculiar

subsistence.

For if it is naturally converted, it possesses an essential desire

towards that to which it is converted, and it directs all its being

towards that to which it makes an essential conversion. And it is

also essentially similar to the object of its conversion; and on this

account, is in sympathy with it according to nature, because allied

to it by essence. But if this be the case; either the essence of both

is the same; or the one proceeds from the other; or both derive their

similitude from some other one. But if the essence of both is the

same, how can the one be naturally converted to the other? And if both

proceed from one; both will be naturally converted to this one. It

remains therefore that the one must derive its essence from the other.

But if this be the case, progression also must originate from that to

which there is a conversion according to nature.

COROLLARY.

From hence it is evident that intellect is the object of desire to all

things: that all things proceed from intellect; and that the whole

world, though eternal, derives its essence from intellect. For it is

not because eternal excluded from proceeding from intellect. Nor is

it because established in perpetual order, excluded from conversion.

But it both perpetually advances and is eternal according to essence;

and it is perpetually converted and indissoluble according to its

invariable order.

PROPOSITION XXXV.

Every thing caused (or produced by a cause), both abides in its cause,

proceeds from, and is converted to it.

For if it alone abides, it will differ in nothing from its cause;

from which it will be indistinct. For progression subsists together

with distinction. But if it alone proceeds, it will be unconjoined

with its cause, and in no respect communicate with it according to a

sympathetic affection. But if it is alone converted, how can that which

does not derive its essence from its cause, be naturally converted to

that which is foreign from its nature? But if it abides and proceeds,

and is not converted, how can the natural desire of every thing to

well-being, and to good, and an excitation to its generator, arise?

But if it proceeds indeed, and is converted, but does not abide, how,

since it is distant from its cause, can it hasten to be conjoined with

it? Since it would be unconjoined prior to its departure. For if it was

conjoined, according to this conjunction it would entirely abide. But

if it should abide and be converted, but should not proceed, how, since

not separated, can it be converted? For every thing returning to its

cause, in the act of returning is assimilated to that from which it is

essentially divided. But it is necessary that the thing caused, should

either alone abide, or be alone converted, or alone proceed; or that

the extremes should be conjoined with each other; or that the medium

between these, should be united with each extreme; or that all these

should take place together. It remains, therefore, that every thing

caused must abide in, proceed from, and be converted to its cause.

PROPOSITION XXXVI.

Of all things which are multiplied in progression, such as are

first are more perfect than such as are second, and such as are

second than those of a posterior order, and so on in continual

succession.

For if progressions distinguish things produced from their causes, and

are the subordinations of secondary natures to such as are first; first

progressions will be more conjoined with their causes, from which they

are produced, and of which they may be considered as the blossoms. But

secondary progressions are more remote from their causes; and this will

be the case in a continual succession. But things nearer, and more

allied to their causes, are more perfect: for causes are more perfect

than things caused. But such as are more remote are more imperfect,

because on this account dissimilar to their causes.

PROPOSITION XXXVII.

Of all things which subsist according to conversion, the first

are more imperfect than the second; and the second than those in

succession. But the last are the most perfect.

For if conversions are produced in a circle, and conversion tends to

that from which the progression began; but progression is from the

most perfect, conversion also will tend to the most perfect. And if

that to which progression tends is the last, the first conversion will

originate from this. But progression to the last is the most imperfect;

and conversion commences from the most imperfect. In things, therefore,

subsisting according to conversion, the first are the most imperfect,

but the last the most perfect.

PROPOSITION XXXVIII.

Every thing proceeding from a certain number of causes, is

converted to them by the same number as it proceeds from

them; and every conversion subsists through the same cause as

progression.

For since both are produced through similitude, that which immediately

proceeds from any cause, is immediately converted to it: for the

similitude was immediate. But that which requires a medium in its

progression, requires also a medium in its conversion. For it is

requisite that both progression and conversion should subsist about

the same. It will, therefore, be first converted to the medium, and

afterwards to that which is more excellent than the medium. Hence

well-being is distributed to every thing through the same number of

causes as being; and the contrary of this is likewise true.

PROPOSITION XXXIX.

Every being is either alone essentially converted, or vitally, or

according to a gnostic mode (γνωϛικῶς).

For it either possesses being alone from its cause, or life together

with being, or it receives from thence a gnostic power. So far,

therefore, as it is _being_ alone, it makes an essential conversion.

But so far as it likewise _lives_, a vital conversion. And so far as

it _knows_, a gnostic conversion. For according to its progression,

such is its conversion; and the measures of its conversion are defined

by the measures of its progression. Hence some are endued with

desire according to being alone; this desire being adapted to the

participation of causes. But others according to life; and this vital

desire is a motion to more excellent natures. And others according to

cognition, which desire is a perception of the goodness of causes.

PROPOSITION XL.

Self-subsistent natures antecede all things proceeding from another

cause.

For if every thing sufficient, is more excellent, either according to

essence, or according to energy, than that which depends on another

cause, but that which produces itself, because productive of its own

being, is sufficient to itself. But that which is alone produced from

another is not sufficient. Likewise since that which is sufficient is

more allied to good; and things more allied and similar to causes,

subsist from cause prior to dissimilars: hence things self-productive,

and self-subsistent, are more ancient, than such as proceed to being

from another alone. For either nothing is self-subsistent; or the

good itself is such; or things which are the first subsistents from

the good. But if nothing is self-subsistent, there will not be a

true sufficiency in any thing. For this cannot reside in the good,

since that is more excellent than sufficiency, subsisting as the one;

and being _the good_, but not possessing good. But neither on this

hypothesis can sufficiency reside in natures posterior to the good. For

all things will be indigent of that which is prior to their nature. But

if the good is self-subsistent, because it produces itself, it will

not be one. For that which proceeds from one, is not one: and it will

proceed from itself, if it subsists by itself. And hence the one itself

will be at the same time one, and not one. It is necessary, therefore,

that a self-subsistent nature should be posterior to the first: and it

is evident, that it must likewise be prior to things alone proceeding

from another cause. For it is more principal than these, and, as we

have demonstrated, is more allied to the good.

PROPOSITION XLI.

Every thing residing in another is alone produced by another. But every

thing residing in itself, is self-subsistent.

For that which abides in another, and is indigent of a subject, can

never be generative of itself. For that which naturally generates

itself, does not require a foreign seat, since it is contained by

itself, and is preserved in itself separate from a superior. But that

which is capable of abiding, and of being established in itself, is

productive of itself: since it proceeds into itself, and contains its

own nature; and abides in itself; as a thing caused in its cause.

For it does not abide as in place, nor as in a subject. For place is

different from that which subsists in place, and that which resides

in a subject is different from its subject. But this is the same with

itself. For it is self-subsistent, and abides in itself, as the thing

caused in its cause.

PROPOSITION XLII.

Every thing self-subsistent is converted to itself.

For if it proceeds from itself, it will also return to itself. For

that which is the source of progression to particulars, is likewise the

end of a conversion co-ordinate to the progression. For if it should

alone proceed from itself, but should not be converted by a progression

into itself, it will never desire its own proper good, and that which

it is able to afford itself. But every cause is capable of conferring

on its progeny, together with the essence it affords, well-being,

which is conjoined to the essence which it distributes. Hence it can

confer this on itself. And, therefore, this is the proper good of a

self-subsistent nature. But this, according to the hypothesis, will

not be desired by that which is converted to itself: and because it

does not desire this, neither will it pursue it; and in consequence

of not pursuing, it will be imperfect and insufficient. But if

sufficiency and perfection belong to any thing, they must be proper to

a self-subsistent nature. And hence it will pursue and desire its own

proper good, and will be converted to itself.

PROPOSITION XLIII.

Every thing converted to itself, is self-subsistent.

For if it be naturally converted to itself, and is perfect in its

self-conversion, it will also possess essence from itself. For that

to which conversion according to nature tends; from this also the

essential progression of every thing proceeds. If, therefore, it

affords to itself _well-being_, it will also indeed afford to

itself _being_; and it will be the lord of its own subsistence.

Hence that which is capable of being converted to itself, is

self-subsistent.

PROPOSITION XLIV.

Every thing converted to itself according to energy, is also converted

to itself according to essence.

For if it can be converted to itself according to energy, but is not

converted essentially, it will be more excellent according to energy

than according to essence; since the former is convertible, and not

the latter. For that which depends on itself, is more excellent than

that which depends on another. And that which preserves itself, is more

perfect than that which is only preserved by another. If, therefore, it

is converted to itself, according to that energy which proceeds from

essence, it will likewise be allotted a convertive essence; so that it

will not only energize to itself, but will likewise depend on itself,

and will be contained and perfected by itself.

PROPOSITION XLV.

Every thing self-subsistent is without generation.

For if it be generated, because generated it will be essentially

imperfect, and indigent of that perfection which proceeds from another.

But because it produces itself, it is perfect and sufficient. For every

thing generated is perfected by another, which brings it into existence

from a non-existent state. Since generation is the passage from that

which is imperfect to its contrary, the perfect. But if any thing

produces itself, it is always perfect; because it always coheres to its

own cause, or rather inheres in that which is perfective of its essence.

PROPOSITION XLVI.

Every thing self-subsistent, is incorruptible.

For if it may be corrupted, it may desert itself, and exist separate

from itself. But this is impossible. For, on account of the unity of

its nature, it is at the same time both a cause and the thing caused.

But every thing which is corrupted, is corrupted by a departure from

its cause. For so far as any thing depends on that which contains and

preserves it, so far it is contained and preserved. But that which is

self-subsistent will never desert its cause, because it will not desert

itself. For it is its own cause. And hence every thing self-subsistent

is incorruptible.

PROPOSITION XLVII.

Every thing self-subsistent is impartible (i.e. without parts) and

simple.

For if that which is self-subsistent is partible, it will constitute

itself partible, and the whole will be converted to itself[108], and

all will be in all itself. But this is impossible. Hence that which

is self-subsistent is impartible. But it is likewise simple. For if

composite, it will contain both that which is excellent, and that

which is base[109]; and the more excellent will proceed from the more

base, and the more base from the more excellent, since, according

to hypothesis, the whole proceeds from the whole itself. Besides it

will not be sufficient to itself, because it requires the elements

of itself, from which it is composed. Every thing therefore which is

self-subsistent is simple.

Concerning that which is Eternal, for the Purpose of

demonstrating the Eternity of the World.

PROPOSITION XLVIII.

Every thing not eternal, is either a composite, or subsists in another.

For it is either capable of being dissolved into its component parts,

and is entirely composed from the parts into which it is dissolved;

or being indigent of a subject, and deserting its subject, it passes

into non-entity. But if it is simple, and abides in itself, it will be

indissoluble and incapable of dissipation.

PROPOSITION XLIX.

Every thing self-subsistent is eternal.

For there are two modes according to which it is necessary, that any

thing should be non-eternal. The one flows from composition, and the

other from residing in a subject. But that which is self-subsistent,

is neither compound, but simple; nor does it abide in another, but in

itself. And hence it is eternal.

PROPOSITION L.

Every thing which is measured by time is _generation_,

either according to essence, or according to energy, so far as

it is measured according to time.

For if it is measured by time, essence or energy, according to time,

is proper to its nature. And it is likewise proper that the terms,

_it was_, and _it will be_, should be different from each other. For

if _it was_, and _it will be_, were numerically the same, that which

is measured by time would suffer nothing from time proceeding, and

always having something prior and posterior. If then _it was_, and _it

will be_ differ from each other, that which is measured by time is

_in generation_ (γινομενόν ἐϛὶ) and never truly is[110], but proceeds

together with time, by which it is measured, existing in a state of

tendency to being, or in becoming to be (ἐν τῷ γίνεσθαι ὂν). Nor does

it stop in the same state of being, but always receives different

being; so that its _now_ becomes perpetually different on account of

the progression of time, and prevents its existing totally at the same

period of time. For it subsists in a dispersion of temporal extension,

and is co-extended with time. But this is no other than to possess

being, in non-being. For that which is in generation, or a state of

becoming to be, is not generated. _Generation_, therefore, is that

which subsists in a flowing existence.

PROPOSITION LI.

Every thing self-subsistent is exempt from things measured by time

according to essence.

For if that which is self-subsistent is without generation, it cannot

be measured by time according to essence. For generation subsists about

a nature measured by time. Hence nothing self-subsistent subsists in

time.

PROPOSITION LII.

Every thing eternal, is at once total.

For whether it only possesses an external essence, it will possess

the whole at once present. Nor will it have one of its parts already

constituted, but another which remains to be constituted, because not

yet in existence; but as much as is possible it possesses the whole

without diminution, and without extension. Or whether it possesses

an energy with respect to essence, and this collected into one, and

abiding in the same measure of perfection, and established as it

were according to one and the same bound, immovably, and without

progression, it will still possess the whole at once present. For if it

be eternal, as its name denotes, it is a perpetual being (τὸ ἀεὶ ὄν).

But _to be_ sometimes, and to have an existence in _becoming to be_,

is different from that which always is. And hence it is requisite that

an eternal nature should not possess any thing prior and posterior:

for in this case it would become generation and non-entity. But where

neither prior, nor posterior, not _it was_, and _it will be_ have

any subsistence, but being alone, there an essence at once total

abides[111]. And every thing energizes according to its essence.

COROLLARY.

From hence it is evident that eternity is the cause of total

existence. Since every thing eternal, has either its essence or its

energy totally present with itself, either according to essence, or

according to energy.

PROPOSITION LIII.

Eternity _itself_ has an existence prior to all eternal natures,

and _time itself_ exists before all temporal natures.

For if every where participated natures are prior to their

participants, and imparticipables before such as are participated,

it is evident that an eternal being is different from the eternity

in an eternal nature, and different from eternity itself. For the

first of these subsists as a _participant_, the second as a thing

_participated_, and the third as an In like manner with respect to

time, one thing exists as a _participant_, and the time which it

contains, as a thing _participated_, and the time prior to this, as an

_imparticipable_[112]. And each of these consists from imparticipables

every where, and in all things the same. But participated time alone

exists in the natures by which it is participated. For there are many

eternal and temporal natures, in all of which eternity abides according

to participation. And since such a time is indivisible, there is also

a divided time. And there is one time prior to these. And _eternity

itself_ is _an eternity of eternities_, but _time itself_, is a _time

of times_; and they are sustainers of participated natures.

PROPOSITION LIV.

Every _eternity_ is the measure of eternal natures, and

every _time_ of temporal natures; and these are the only

two measures of life and motion in beings.

For every thing which measures, either measures according to a part,

or measures the whole, when it is accommodated to that which is

measured. But that which measures according to the whole is eternity;

and that which measures according to parts is time. There are therefore

only two measures, this of eternal, and that of temporal natures.

PROPOSITION LV.

Every thing subsisting according to time, either subsists in an eternal

time, or has its subsistence in some part of time.

For if all progressions subsist by similitude, and prior to things

perfectly dissimilar, things similar are more proximate to first

natures than such as are dissimilar: and if it is impossible to

conjoin with eternals, things formed in a part of time: (for as things

generated differ from such as are self-subsistent, and things which

have a partial, from such as have a perpetual existence, but the middle

of these and those, are partly similar to them, and partly dissimilar.)

Hence between things which are sometimes generated, and such as are

eternal, the medium must either be that which is always in generation,

or that which is sometimes, or that which is not truly, or does not

possess true being. But it is impossible that the medium should be that

which sometimes truly is. And that which is not true being, is the same

with that which is sometimes in generation. Hence the medium cannot be

that which _sometimes is_. It remains therefore that that which is

always in generation, or in becoming to be, must be the middle of both:

for on account of its passing, or flowing existence, it is conjoined

with the worse nature, but on account of its perpetuity it imitates an

eternal nature.

COROLLARY.

From hence it is evident that eternity is two-fold: for some things are

of themselves eternal, but others according to time. And the former of

these, is an _abiding_ eternity; but the other a _flowing_ eternity,

or such as exists in becoming to be. And the former of these has its

being united, and at once total; but the latter diffused, and unfolded

according to temporal extension. And the former of these is essentially

total; but the latter is composed from parts, each of which are

separated according to prior, and posterior.

PROPOSITION LVI.

Every thing which is produced from secondary causes, is also

produced from those prior and more principal causes, from which

secondary causes are produced.

For if that which is secondary possesses its whole essence from that

which is prior to itself, its power of producing emanates also from

thence. For productive powers reside in producing causes according to

essence, and replenish the essence of these. But if they are allotted

a productive power from a superior cause, they possess from this the

cause of being, measured from thence according to an hypostatic, or

fabricative power. But if this be the case, the productions of this

secondary cause, are caused on account of that which is prior to its

nature: for that which perfects a cause perfects also the thing caused.

And that the thing caused is more perfected from thence, is manifest.

For if that which is first gives to the second, the cause of producing,

it will primarily possess this cause; and on this account that which is

second generates, receiving from thence a secondary generative power.

But if the one becomes productive through participation, but the other

by communication; on this hypothesis likewise that will be the primary

and more principal cause, which bestows a power of generating on

another proximate to its nature.

PROPOSITION LVII.

Every cause both energizes prior to the thing caused, and is productive

of more effects posterior to the things caused.

For so far as it is cause, it is more perfect and powerful than that

which is posterior to its nature. And if this be the case it is the

cause of more effects. For it is the property of a greater power

to produce more, of that which is equal, equal, and of that which

is less, less effects. And that which in things similar can effect

greater things, can also accomplish such as are less. But that which

can accomplish less effects, cannot necessarily effect greater. If,

therefore, the cause is more powerful than the thing caused, it is

also productive of more effects. But whatever the thing caused can

accomplish, the cause is much more capable of effecting. For every

thing which is produced from secondary causes, is much more produced

from prior and more principal causes. Whatever, therefore, the thing

caused is naturally adapted to produce, co-exists with the cause. But

if the cause produces prior to the thing caused, it is evident that it

energizes before the thing caused, according to its productive energy.

Every cause therefore energizes prior to the thing caused; and in

conjunction with, and posterior to its nature constitutes other effects.

COROLLARY.

From hence it is manifest, that whatever is caused by soul, is also

caused by intellect, but whatever is caused by intellect, is not also

caused by soul. For intellect energizes prior to soul; and whatever the

soul confers on secondary natures, intellect also confers in a more

ample manner. And when soul no longer energizes, intellect illuminates

with its gifts, natures to which soul does not communicate its essence.

For that which is inanimate, so far as it participates of form,

participates of intellect, and the formation of intellect. Besides,

this likewise follows that whatever is caused by intellect is also

caused by the good, but not the contrary. For the privations of forms

emanate from the good: since all things flow from this. But intellect

since it is form, is not the fabricator of privation.

PROPOSITION LVIII.

Every thing produced from many causes, is more compounded, than that

which is produced from a few.

For if every cause confers something on that which proceeds from it,

many causes will confer many gifts, but fewer causes will bestow fewer

gifts. Of participants, therefore, some will consist from many, but

others from a few of the things which each participates; the former

indeed on account of their progression from many causes, but the latter

on account of their progression from a few. But the former proceeding

from many causes are more composite: and things proceeding from a

few, are more simple than those which proceed from many causes. Hence

every thing produced from many causes, is more compounded; but that

which proceeds from a few is more simple. For the more compounded

participates of that which the more simple participates, but the

contrary to this, is not true.

PROPOSITION LIX.

Every thing essentially simple, is either more excellent, or worse than

composite natures.

For if the _highest_ of beings are produced from things fewer and more

simple, but such as are in the _middle_, from a many, these will be

composite. And with respect to the _extremes_, some are more simple,

according to that which is more excellent, but others according to

that which is worse. But that the highest beings are produced from

fewer causes, is evident from their being superior, and originating

prior to inferiors, and extending themselves over beings, beyond the

progressions of subordinate natures, on account of their diminution of

power. For on this account the last of beings[113], is most simple, as

well as the first, because it proceeds from the first alone. But one

kind of simplicity subsists according to a nature more excellent, but

another kind, according to that which is more base than every compound;

and there will be the same proportion in all things.

PROPOSITION LX.

Every thing which is the cause of a multitude of effects, is

more excellent than that which is allotted a power productive of

a few; when the few are parts of the many.

For if this is the cause of a few, but that of a many, and the few

are parts of the many, that which forms the one, will also form the

rest, if fabricative of a many. It is, therefore, more powerful

and comprehensive of a greater multitude. For as production is to

production, so is one producing cause to another, according to a mutual

relation. But that which is capable of accomplishing more, possesses

a greater, and more universal power. And this is nearer to the cause

of all: but that which is nearer is a greater good: since the cause of

all, is the good itself. Hence that which is the cause of many effects,

is essentially more excellent than that which produces but a few.

PROPOSITION LXI.

Every power when impartible is greater, but when divided

becomes less.

For if it is divided, it passes into multitude. And if this is the

case, it becomes more distant from unity; and on this account is

diminished in power; since it departs from unity by which it is

contained, and acquires imperfection. Since the good of every thing

subsists through the benefit of union.

PROPOSITION LXII.

Every multitude which is near to unity, is less in quantity than things

farther distant, but is greater in power.

For that which is near is more similar to unity. But unity is

constitutive of all things without multiplication. The cause,

therefore, of many effects, is more similar to unity. Since the cause

of all is the most uniform and impartible of all things; if the cause

of all is _one_. As, therefore, that which is less multiplied is

more allied to the one; so that which is productive of a multitude of

effects, is more allied to the cause of all. But a nature of this kind

is more powerful.

COROLLARY.

From hence it is evident, that there are more corporeal natures than

souls; more souls than intellects; and more intellects than divine

unities. And in all other natures there is the same proportion.

PROPOSITION LXIII.

Every imparticipable produces two-fold orders of things

participated; one in things which sometimes participate; but the

other in such as participate always, and in a connate manner.

For that which is always participated, is more similar to an

imparticipable than that which is sometimes participated. Hence that

which is always participable, will subsist prior to that which is

sometimes participated. Because it is participated indeed, differing

from that which is posterior to itself, but because it is always more

allied, it is also more similar to an imparticipable. Nor are there

alone things, which are sometimes participated: for prior to these

are the natures which are always participated; through which they are

conjoined with imparticipables according to a certain well ordered

progression. Nor are there alone natures which are always participated:

for these, since they possess an unextinguishable power (on account

of their perpetuity), bear other natures in their essence, viz. the

natures which are sometimes participated. And as far as to these

diminution and subjection extends.

COROLLARY.

From hence it is manifest, that of the unions, which illustrate beings

from the one, some are always participated, but others sometimes: and

that intellectual participations are in the same manner two-fold; and

likewise the animations of souls, and of other forms. For beauty, and

similitude, and station, and identity, are imparticipable, but they are

participated, through things which always participate, and by things

which sometimes participate in a secondary manner, according to the

same order.

PROPOSITION LXIV.

Every principal unity produces a two-fold number; one indeed

of self-perfect substances; but the other of illuminations,

possessing their subsistence in others.

For if its progression takes place by subjection, and through things

proper to fabricative causes; and if perfect natures proceed orderly

from the perfect, and things imperfect through these as mediums:

hence some will be self-perfect substances, but others imperfect; and

these last will become the forms of participants. For since they are

imperfect, they will be indigent of subjects to their existence. But

the perfect natures will make themselves their own participants: for

since they are perfect, they will replenish and establish themselves.

But they will require nothing of inferior natures, to their proper

subsistence. Self-perfect substances, therefore, on account of their

distinction into multitude, are diminished from their principal unity;

but on account of their self-perfect essence, they are in a certain

respect assimilated to it. But imperfect substances because they reside

in others, are remote from that which is self-subsistent; and because

they are imperfect, they are distant from that which perfects all

things. But progressions are accomplished by things similar, as far as

to things perfectly dissimilar. Hence every principal unity produces a

two-fold number.

COROLLARY.

From hence it is evident, that with respect to unities, some are

self-perfect proceeding from _the one_: but that others are

illuminations of unities and intellect. And again, that some of these

are self-perfect essences, but others nothing more than resemblances

of souls which are animated. And hence, neither is every unity a god,

but this is peculiar to a self-perfect unity alone. Nor is every

intellectual property an intellect, but that which is essential alone.

Nor is every illustration of soul, a soul: but there are likewise

images of souls.

PROPOSITION LXV.

Every thing which subsists in any manner whatever, either

subsists according to cause, in a primary manner (or

possessing the form of a principle ἀρχοειδῶς) or according to

hyparxis[114], or according to participation, after the manner

of an image (ἐικονικῶς.)

For either the thing produced is beheld in its producing cause, as

in a pre-existent cause: (because every cause previously assumes in

itself, the thing caused, being that primarily, which its effect is

secondarily) or the producer, is beheld in the thing produced. For

since that which is produced participates of its producing cause, it

exhibits in itself, in a secondary manner, that which its producer is

primarily. Or every thing is to be considered in its own order, and is

not to be contemplated either in its cause, or in the thing caused.

For the one so far as it exists, subsists after a more excellent mode;

but the other, so far as it is, in a subordinate manner. But it is

requisite that this last also, should be such as it is. And every thing

subsists in its own order, according to hyparxis.

PROPOSITION LXVI.

All beings are to one another either wholes, or parts, and are either

_the same_, or _different_.

For either one comprehends, but the remainder are comprehended; or they

neither comprehend, nor are comprehended. And they either suffer that

which is the same, as participating one; or they are distinguished from

one another. But if they comprehend they are wholes: and if they are

comprehended they are parts. But if many things participate one, they

are the same according to one. But if they are many only; so far as

many they are different from each other.

PROPOSITION LXVII.