II
PLOTINUS
The problem of the origin of the universe is one with which every religion in a certain sense claims to deal; but it is a problem only of the most recondite sphere of metaphysics, while religions generally, in order to ensure their success, make appeal to popular sympathy and endeavour to bring down the truths which they enshrine to the intellectual level of the masses of mankind. To put abstruse truths into simple language is an impossibility. They can, however, be conveyed by a species of symbolism, or presented in an allegorical form which will be interpreted in one sense by the vulgar and in another by the philosopher or the religious initiate. The communication of these hidden truths has been represented in the case of most religions as a definite revelation from a higher plane; but whatever claim is made as to their origin, they are at least put before the rank and file of the faithful as dogmas to be accepted unhesitatingly as a vital element of the orthodox religion of the time or country. Such dogmas in their crude form, it is needless to say, have never made appeal to the high philosophical intelligence of the day. Under the autocratic regime of persecuting Christianity during the Middle Ages of Europe, Christian dogma was indeed accepted nominally by great intellects, but it was accepted under duress and with a reservation, and subject to such interpretations of its inner meaning as might commend themselves to the mental standpoint of their professor. The men of highest intellect were compelled to express the faith that was in them in the most guarded language, and if they failed to do so they were only too liable to share the fate of Galileo, or—worse still—of Giordano Bruno. The sole exception to this rule is to be found in Oriental countries, such as India, where religion, whether Brahmin or Buddhist, has assumed a less dogmatic form, and has found it possible accordingly to assimilate and identify itself with philosophical speculations of the profoundest and most abstruse character, without any sense of incongruity or doing violence to its own specific tenets. It is true that Mohammedanism appears to contradict this, but it must be remembered that the religion of Mohammed was in the nature of a foreign importation and not indigenous to Indian soil.
Thus it came about that the philosophers of early Greece and Rome were almost invariably avowed sceptics as regards the popular religious beliefs of their time, though in spite of this, with the sole exception of Socrates, they were allowed to preach their doctrines openly in the market place without let or hindrance. Thus, too, the triumph of Christianity brought it eventually into open antagonism with philosophic thought. In this case, however, the dogmatic and intolerant character of the creed suffered no rival schools of opinion, and accordingly, within 200 years of the date at which it was established by Constantine as the recognised religion of the Roman Empire, the Athenian schools of philosophy were forcibly suppressed by Justinian.[4] For some two and a half centuries before this latter date Neoplatonism in one form or another had dominated the intellectual world of philosophy. It had superseded the materialistic philosophies of earlier Rome and Greece, and even before the time of Constantine, the Stoic and Epicurean schools of thought had already ceased to appeal to the inquiring spirit of the time. When, after a thousand years of intervening barbarism, under the influence of the Renaissance movement, men began to turn their attention once more to classic scholarship and classic philosophy, it was to Plato, mainly as interpreted by his successor and follower, Plotinus, that the leading spirits of the day turned in search of a solution of those problems of life which were once more pressing for interpretation, after the intellectual death in life of the Dark Ages, following the break-up of the Roman Empire. Christianity, indeed, had its metaphysics—for every religion is bound, in a sense, to explain its Divinity to its devotees—but they were the bastard metaphysics of the Athanasian Creed, the expression of a political compromise drawn up to satisfy the warring sects of Christendom. Far different was the effort of Plotinus, who sought not only to solve the riddle of the sphinx, but to express in language intelligible to his hearers the solution of the profoundest mysteries of the universe. How far he succeeded in doing so is yet in dispute to the present day. At least the basis of his philosophy still remains as an attempted approximation to the truth which forms the groundwork for the efforts of every new seeker after spiritual enlightenment.
At the date of the birth of Plotinus, Alexandria was the intellectual capital of the world. There met East and West, in spite of Mr Rudyard Kipling’s dictum to the contrary. There the philosophical and intellectual speculations of the entire civilised world enjoyed a common forum where the most diverse views found a ready audience. There Philo interpreted Judaism in terms of current Greek thought. There Gnostics and Christians contended for the supremacy of their various religious doctrines. There, among others, Ammonius Saccas lectured on his philosophical interpretation of the universal life, first from a standpoint akin to that of the new Christian religion, which was already obtaining so many converts, and later from an independent platform of his own. To him, after listening to many different philosophers, in whose views he found neither satisfaction nor illumination, came the most illustrious of his pupils, Plotinus. Plotinus was at this time about twenty-eight (he was born probably at Lycopolis in Egypt, in the year 205 or 206 A.D.), and he continued to remain at Alexandria and to elaborate his theories under the auspices of his master, Ammonius, for some eleven years. At the expiration of this period the similarity of the philosophy of Ammonius to that taught by the Brahmins of India, and doubtless also the interest in these Oriental conceptions which had been stimulated by the travels of Apollonius of Tyana, led to a decision on the part of Plotinus to emulate the Tyanian sage and himself embark on a similar mission. The expedition of the Emperor Gordian against the Persians appeared to supply a favourable opportunity for carrying out this project. This expedition was, however, destined to disaster, and Gordian met with an untimely end. Plotinus himself barely escaped with his life, but eventually reached Antioch in safety. Our philosopher did not remain long in the Syrian capital, but at the earliest opportunity sailed for Rome, where the remainder of his life was spent in lecturing and in philosophic study and discussion.
It was not until he had lived in Rome for ten years that, at the urgent request of his followers, he commenced writing what subsequently became known as The Enneads of Plotinus. Twenty-one of these books were completed when, at the age of fifty-nine, he first met Porphyry, who is our principal source of information with regard to his manner of life and the main facts of his career. To Porphyry was eventually allotted the task of editing his writings, which he divided into six volumes of nine books each, the number of books in each volume being thus used to give a name to his whole system of philosophy (Enneads, Greek ἐννεα, nine).
That his treatises were in urgent need of a competent editor is apparent from the observations which Porphyry makes with regard to his methods of composition. He was in the habit of writing down his thoughts just as they occurred to him, and “could not (says his biographer) by any means endure to review twice what he had written, nor even to read his own composition,” mainly on account of his defective eyesight. Nor, indeed, was he by any means a perfect master of the Greek language, in which his lectures were delivered and his books written. Porphyry in fact observes, let us hope with some exaggeration, that he “neither formed the letters with accuracy, nor exactly distinguished the syllables, nor bestowed any diligent attention on the orthography, but neglecting all these as trifles, he was alone attentive to the intellection of his wonderful mind, and, to the admiration of all his disciples, persevered in this custom to the end of his life.”
One is, indeed, not a little impressed how entirely, in the later days of the Roman Empire, “captive Greece led captive her conquerors.” Greek philosophy and Greek ideas had, in truth, permeated the whole civilised world. Not only was this the case, but when the Western or Roman Empire fell eventually into decrepitude and ruin, its Eastern partner, though threatened and harassed by barbarian foes on all its borders, continued to survive the extinction of the erstwhile mistress of the world by something like a thousand years. Alexandria was, however, destined to destruction by an Arab invasion long ere this, and never recovered from its sack by the Mohammedan Amru in A.D. 640. The survival of the Eastern Empire was doubtless due in great part to the superior vitality of the Greek race; but it does not admit of doubt that it would have fallen a victim to the Moslem invader at least 500 years before the date of its final doom, had it not been for Constantine’s choice of an Eastern capital and the almost impregnable position enjoyed by the imperial city. It is open to conjecture that had the British Government of the present day been better acquainted with the history of Constantinople and the many sieges which it had successfully sustained, they would have thought twice, and indeed thrice, before launching without adequate preparation, the ill-fated expedition to the Dardanelles.
The dialectical disquisitions of Plotinus were delivered in Greek, and his whole trend of thought was essentially Greek in character. One is inclined to ask oneself indeed whether the Latin language would have been capable of expressing the subtleties of his philosophical speculation. In this connection the similarity of his ideas to those enunciated in the great Vedantic system of Indian philosophy must not blind us to the fact that his method of treating his subject, and the closely reasoned arguments which he adduces in the defence of his scheme of the universe, are purely and entirely Greek. This appears to me to be the real truth in relation to a much disputed point, as to what Plotinus owed to Indian thought on the one hand, and to Greek culture and Greek philosophy on the other.
When Milton appealed to the Divine Muse to enable him to “soar above the Aonian Mount” and achieve “things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme,” he was in truth taking on a small order compared with the tremendous task which Plotinus set himself in his attempted solution of the riddle of the universe. To say that his exposition of his system lends itself to criticism in more than one vital point is merely to state that he was human. Whoever attempts to go behind phenomena and postulate a First Cause, whether we denominate that Cause The One, like Plotinus, or The Good, like Plato, or The Absolute, like Herbert Spencer, is manifestly passing into realms of thought with which the human mind is incompetent to deal. It stands to reason, indeed, that the finite mind cannot comprehend the infinite, and logic, therefore, inevitably fails us. But there is in truth another side to this most recondite problem. Though logic cannot fathom it, and though the finite cannot comprehend the infinite, yet the infinite spirit may contact infinity. In other words, the infinite in man, that is, the divine spark, which is part and parcel of infinity, may realise the infinite within itself, not, indeed, by any logical process, but by the immediate experience implicit in spiritual union. Hence the possibility of that form of mystical ecstasy which has been denominated Cosmic Consciousness, and which it is narrated that Plotinus experienced no less than four times during the six years, 262-268, when Porphyry was his companion in Rome. The effect of these experiences on Plotinus is very evident in his philosophy. They led to his emphasising the unity of all creation, and its oneness with the Divine, and the natural corollary of this, the illusory nature of separate individuality. Hence that which causes individuality, the principle of limitation inherent in matter, appears to him itself also of an illusory nature, that is, essentially incapable of acquiring or participating in real existence. From this negative character of matter arise, according to Plotinus, the imperfections of the material universe, and its inability to conform to the ideal or intelligible order.
At the basis of the system of Plotinus there is postulated then an ideal universe which constitutes an archetype or pattern of the phenomenal order which our senses apprehend. Plotinus assumes three root principles which he denominates the Three Divine Hypostases, and which have been since designated the Alexandrian Trinity, though it would be a mistake to confuse this triad with the Trinity of the Christian Creed. The First Divine Hypostasis is the Prime Source of Being, denominated, as already stated, the One or the Good. This corresponds to the Absolute of the Spencerian philosophy, and Plotinus tells us that it transcends all known attributes—so much so, in fact, that even existence itself cannot be predicated of it. Every being, according to the Plotinian system, tends to produce an image of itself. Hence we have the Second and Third of these Divine Principles, emanating in their turn from the First. The Second Divine Hypostasis our philosopher designates the Intelligible Universe or Universal Intelligence. This is the sphere of Absolute Reality or Essence, and constitutes a manifestation of the creative power of the One. The Third Divine Hypostasis is the Universal Soul, and this again is the image of the Second; but it differs from its principal in the fact that life in its sphere is no longer inert or motionless, but revolves about and within the Universal Intelligence. By way of explanation, Plotinus offers the parallel of one circle enclosed within another and larger but concentric circle which revolves about it, the common centre of both being represented by the One or First Hypostasis, the motionless inner circle by the Universal Intelligence, and the revolving outer circle by the Universal Soul; though it is recognised that this form of symbolism can be pressed too far, as the expressions “external” and “internal” in this connection have no real validity.
Matter, as already stated, is regarded as possessing no definite attributes of its own; but it is capable of receiving a semblance of life by reflecting the forms derived by the Universal Soul from the Second Divine Principle or Intelligible Universe. Matter, then, serves as a mirror upon which the Universal Soul projects the images or reflections of its creations, and thus gives rise to the phenomena of the sensible universe. This universe, which we are accustomed to term the Phenomenal World, holds an intermediate position between Reality and Negation owing to its participation in matter, which Plotinus identifies with Evil as being the negation of the Spiritual or Real. The existence of the Universal Soul is an eternal contemplation of the One as revealed in the sphere of Intelligence or Beauty (the Second Divine Hypostasis) and is itself an indivisible noncorporeal essence, possessing omnipresent consciousness. While, then, one part of the Universal Soul inhabits the sphere of Intelligence, its inferior part has relation with the Sensible World, or Material Universe. The Universal Soul by this relation with the Material Universe gives birth to the phenomena of Nature in all their varied manifestation. But whereas the object of contemplation of the Universal Soul is the One as revealed in terms of Beauty or the Intelligible Order, the object of the contemplation of Nature is Nature itself. Nature, in short, contemplates the forms of its own creation, and hence arise the imperfections of its manifestation.
“The character of the material universe [following Dr Whitby,[5] in his summary of the doctrine of Plotinus] is thus due to the irradiation of matter or chaos by the complex unity of forms or reasons (logoi) derived by the Universal Soul from its contemplation of the sphere of essential reality and Absolute Perfection. By reason of the inability of matter to participate fully in the real qualities of existence, it follows that the perfection of the material universe is inferior to that of the Universal Soul, and still more so to that of the Intelligible Universe.” In writing “on the nature and origin of evil,” our philosopher observes, “Whatever is deficient of good in a small degree is not yet evil, since it is capable from its nature of becoming perfect. But whatever is perfectly destitute of good, and such is matter, is evil in reality, possessing no portion of good. For, indeed, matter does not, properly speaking, possess being, by means of which it might be invested with good. But the attribute of being is only equivocally affirmed of matter.”
The association of matter with the soul arises from the voluntary determination of the individual consciousness towards the material plane. But it must not be supposed that this commingling of the soul and matter results in any actual union between the two in the same sense as in the chemical world hydrogen and oxygen combine to form water. For matter, as explained above, is in the nature of a mirror which the divine light of the soul illuminates but which is incapable of receiving into itself that light by which it is illuminated. “But [observes Plotinus][6] matter obscures by its sordid mixture and renders feeble the light which emanates from the soul and, by opposing the waters of generation, it occasions the soul’s entrance into the rapid stream, and by this means renders her light, which is in itself vigorous and pure, polluted and feeble, like the faint glimmerings from a watch tower beheld in a storm. For if matter were never present, the soul would never approach to generation; and this is the lapse of the soul, thus to descend into matter and become debilitated and impure, inasmuch as matter prohibits many of the soul’s powers from their natural activities, comprehending and as it were contracting the place which the soul contains, in her dark embrace.” Matter thus is the cause of the evil inherent in the material world, as without this the soul would have for ever remained “permanent and pure.”
Matter, in itself, possesses no form, being unable to sustain order or measure. The soul, however, by its union with matter, imposes form upon it, this form being the result of the combination of the limitation inherent in matter, in union with the archetypal idea of which the soul is the expression. We have, then, a conception of the universe, of which the One represents Infinity, and matter, the opposite pole, or zero. Owing, however, to the fact that no attributes or qualities can be predicated of the One, and that this is, in a negative sense, also the case with matter, which is the privation of being, we arrive at a certain confusion, the attempts of our philosopher to explain matter leading to phrases which are equally applicable to Infinity or the One. The two extremes of Absolute Being and Non-Being appear, in short, to meet, and a resulting bewilderment arises in the mind, which one is rather inclined to gather, was not entirely absent from the thought of Plotinus himself. It may be suggested, tentatively, that this impasse arises rather from the failure of Plotinus to describe the One in more positive terms, than in his defective description of the negative qualities of matter. The fact that the One of Plotinus is conceived of as such that no language is able to express it, does not, in reality, justify the philosopher in describing it in terms of negation, however much positive statements may fall short of portraying the Absolute Reality. Of matter itself, however, we ought perhaps to predicate a relative though inferior reality; even while we admit that the presence of spirit is in inverse proportion to the density of matter.
In the view of Plotinus the universe is a single vast conscious organism of which all the parts are similarly endowed with consciousness. He attributes a species of divinity to the Sun and the stars, and appears to accept the theory of planetary spirits. Thus also Origen observes: “As our body while consisting of human members is yet held together by one soul, so the universe is to be thought of as an immense living being which is held together by one soul, the power of the logos, God.”
According to Plotinus it is truer to state that the body is in the soul than that the soul is in the body, inasmuch as the soul is transcendent as well as immanent in the corporeal form. Thus, when a particular body acquires life the soul which is destined to animate it does not in reality descend into it and become identified with it, but rather the body comes within the sphere of its influence, thus attaining to the world of life. This explanation is, it seems to me, helpful in enabling us to understand the gradual process by which the individual consciousness becomes en rapport with the immature bodies of childhood. Following out the same theory we can understand the doctrine of early Gnostic sects, that Jesus of Nazareth was overshadowed by the Christ, and also we may believe, if we will, that the guardian angels of the little children who, as Jesus asserted, “do always behold the face of My Father which is in Heaven” are indeed their own higher spiritual selves, attracted on the one hand to those physical bodies of which they are the prospective tenants, and on the other looking regretfully back to their pre-natal home in the spiritual world.
Like the Deity, the soul is in the nature of a trinity, the occult axiom, “As above, so below” being implicit in Plotinus’s philosophy. Thus man consists, firstly, of the animal, or sensual soul, which is closely united with the body; secondly, of the logical, or reasoning soul; and thirdly, of that individualised portion of the divine essence whose proper habitation is the Intelligible Universe, of which it in its origin forms a part. The return of the soul to the One is accomplished by means of a gradual process of purification, which eventually, after an immeasurable period of time, releases the soul from its inclination towards the plane of sensibility; i.e. its attraction to the material world. The philosophy of Plotinus thus included the doctrine of metempsychosis, as regards the affirmation of the truth of which he is very emphatic. For he declares that “The gods bestow on each the destiny which appertains to him, and which harmonises with his antecedents in his successive existences. Every one who is not aware of this is grossly ignorant of divine matters.” He would even appear to admit that at times fallen human souls are imprisoned in the bodies of animals, but speaks less confidently on this head.
The conceptions of Plotinus explain many of those psychical phenomena which have so much puzzled our modern scientists, and offer a solution for the much-debated problems involved in the phenomena of telepathy, magic, and planetary influence. “The sensitivity of nature [writes Dr Whitby, summarising this side of Plotinus’s philosophy] is manifested as a vital nexus in virtue of which every minutest and remotest particle of the universe is intimately correlated and symbolically united to the rest. The universe as a whole, although thus endowed with a potential sensitivity, may nevertheless be considered as impassive, because the soul which animates and pervades it has no need of sensations for its own enlightenment and does not, in fact, regard them. Nevertheless, and for the simple reason that nature is a living organism, sympathetic throughout, individual parts of the universe have a quasi-sensitivity, and respond to impressions from without. When, for example, the stars, in answer to human invocations, confer benefits upon men, they do so, not by a voluntary action, but because their natural or unreasoning psychical faculties are unconsciously affected. Similarly demons may be charmed by spells or prayers acting upon the unreasoning part of their nature.” For, according to Plotinus, the universe is a vast chain, of which every being is a link.
Plotinus, like every one else who has attempted to solve the Riddle of the Sphinx, is up against the basic facts of existence. Boldly and perseveringly as we may attempt to face the problem, the Sphinx sits and smiles with the smile that will not come off, well knowing that however near we may seem to be to the solution of the mystery, the problem will still baffle us, and remain unsolved to the end. We may postulate a Deity who is all Perfection, but, if we do so, it rests with us to explain how it is that evil is present in the universe, if this Deity is in reality, as Plotinus and other philosophers have taught us, the All. We may postulate matter as inherently evil in nature, in opposition to the Good, but if so, whence comes that which is not included in the All? If matter is the mere privation of good, whence come its apparently very positive qualities? If the All is complete and perfect in itself, what need for the manifested universe? What need for the striving after a higher perfection, which gives the lie to the Absolute Perfection predicated of the One? Matthew Arnold has adopted the hypothesis of a “Power, not ourselves, which makes for righteousness”; but in this hypothesis he first abandons the conception of the unity of the All and subsequently throws over the idea of divine perfection. For his Deity is, after all, only striving after a perfection which he has not yet reached.
The dualistic conception offers in truth fewer difficulties to the ordinary mind. It is more in accordance with the obvious facts of existence, which are brought under our notice every day of our lives. Deceptive and illusory though the conception may be, we still appear to be confronted by the existence of a gigantic struggle between good and evil in which the two combatants are more nearly matched than we care to admit. We like to shut our eyes to this and postulate a Deity of infinite power and infinite beneficence, but, while we do so, we are for ever admitting into our intellectual sphere certain conceptions that run counter to this theory, and in order to acquit our Deity of responsibility for the evil which we see ever around us, we make of the Devil a scapegoat who, in practice, bears on his shoulders the sins of the whole world; or alternatively we accept a conception of God and the Devil which runs on parallel lines with that of Dickens’ Spenlow and Jawkins. If behind Good and Evil, the two forces which are everlastingly struggling for the mastery, we have, as Plotinus and other of the wisest philosophers assure us, some principle of Unity from which both alike flow, are we justified in postulating of that Unity Absolute Perfection and Absolute Power? Or are we not nearer the mark in describing it in the Nietzschean phrase as “beyond good and evil,” as possessed of attributes and qualities which finite brains are incapable of apprehending? Are we not indeed darkening counsel by attributing to this Unknown a perfection which, after all, the entire gamut of existence suggests to us has never yet been reached through all the æons even though we may be approaching nearer to it every day and every hour?
The creation of the universe, if we are to accept the system of Plotinus, did not actually take place in time. He argues this point out with much subtlety and ingenuity in his essay “on Providence,” rejecting the hypothesis of “a certain foresight and discursive consideration on the part of Deity, deliberating in what condition the world should be especially formed, and by what means it may be constituted as far as possible for the best”; and accepting in place of it the assumption that the universe always had a being, and that it was “formed according to intellect, and intellect not preceding in time but prior[7]; because the world is its offspring, and because intellect is the cause and the world its image, perpetually subsisting in the same manner and flowing from this as its source.” In other words, being faced with the alternative of assuming a definite date at which life began, or postulating existence from all eternity, he accepts the latter as presenting the lesser difficulty of the two; but in order to do so, he finds himself involved in the necessity of admitting a sequence of cause and effect which the finite mind is quite unable to dissociate from the conception of time. Failing this, his whole theory of the three Divine Hypostases falls to the ground. If we adopt the alternative which Plotinus rejected, we are plunged into still greater embarrassment; for if creation began in time, why did the All or the One wait through all the æons of eternity[8] for its commencement? And how, indeed, did time itself evolve from eternity, in view of the fact that the two ideas have no apparent relation to each other? The philosopher may
He may do this, indeed, but after all he will not have solved the Riddle of the Sphinx.