Chapter II: Section 1 (1)

Socrates begins the Timaeus with a summary of the Republic. He
lightly touches upon a few points,—the division of labour and
distribution of the citizens into classes, the double nature and
training of the guardians, the community of property and of women
and children. But he makes no mention of the second education, or
of the government of philosophers.

And now he desires to see the ideal State set in motion; he would
like to know how she behaved in some great struggle. But he is
unable to invent such a narrative himself; and he is afraid that
the poets are equally incapable; for, although he pretends to
have nothing to say against them, he remarks that they are a
tribe of imitators, who can only describe what they have seen.
And he fears that the Sophists, who are plentifully supplied with
graces of speech, in their erratic way of life having never had a
city or house of their own, may through want of experience err in
their conception of philosophers and statesmen. ‘And therefore to
you I turn, Timaeus, citizen of Locris, who are at once a
philosopher and a statesman, and to you, Critias, whom all
Athenians know to be similarly accomplished, and to Hermocrates,
who is also fitted by nature and education to share in our
discourse.’

HERMOCRATES: ‘We will do our best, and have been already
preparing; for on our way home, Critias told us of an ancient
tradition, which I wish, Critias, that you would repeat to
Socrates.’ ‘I will, if Timaeus approves.’ ‘I approve.’ Listen
then, Socrates, to a tale of Solon’s, who, being the friend of
Dropidas my great-grandfather, told it to my grandfather Critias,
and he told me. The narrative related to ancient famous actions
of the Athenian people, and to one especially, which I will
rehearse in honour of you and of the goddess. Critias when he
told this tale of the olden time, was ninety years old, I being
not more than ten. The occasion of the rehearsal was the day of
the Apaturia called the Registration of Youth, at which our
parents gave prizes for recitation. Some poems of Solon were
recited by the boys. They had not at that time gone out of
fashion, and the recital of them led some one to say, perhaps in
compliment to Critias, that Solon was not only the wisest of men
but also the best of poets. The old man brightened up at hearing
this, and said: Had Solon only had the leisure which was required
to complete the famous legend which he brought with him from
Egypt he would have been as distinguished as Homer and Hesiod.
‘And what was the subject of the poem?’ said the person who made
the remark. The subject was a very noble one; he described the
most famous action in which the Athenian people were ever
engaged. But the memory of their exploits has passed away owing
to the lapse of time and the extinction of the actors. ‘Tell us,’
said the other, ‘the whole story, and where Solon heard the
story.’ He replied—There is at the head of the Egyptian Delta,
where the river Nile divides, a city and district called Sais;
the city was the birthplace of King Amasis, and is under the
protection of the goddess Neith or Athene. The citizens have a
friendly feeling towards the Athenians, believing themselves to
be related to them. Hither came Solon, and was received with
honour; and here he first learnt, by conversing with the Egyptian
priests, how ignorant he and his countrymen were of antiquity.
Perceiving this, and with the view of eliciting information from
them, he told them the tales of Phoroneus and Niobe, and also of
Deucalion and Pyrrha, and he endeavoured to count the generations
which had since passed. Thereupon an aged priest said to him: ‘O
Solon, Solon, you Hellenes are ever young, and there is no old
man who is a Hellene.’ ‘What do you mean?’ he asked. ‘In mind,’
replied the priest, ‘I mean to say that you are children; there
is no opinion or tradition of knowledge among you which is white
with age; and I will tell you why. Like the rest of mankind you
have suffered from convulsions of nature, which are chiefly
brought about by the two great agencies of fire and water. The
former is symbolized in the Hellenic tale of young Phaethon who
drove his father’s horses the wrong way, and having burnt up the
earth was himself burnt up by a thunderbolt. For there occurs at
long intervals a derangement of the heavenly bodies, and then the
earth is destroyed by fire. At such times, and when fire is the
agent, those who dwell by rivers or on the seashore are safer
than those who dwell upon high and dry places, who in their turn
are safer when the danger is from water. Now the Nile is our
saviour from fire, and as there is little rain in Egypt, we are
not harmed by water; whereas in other countries, when a deluge
comes, the inhabitants are swept by the rivers into the sea. The
memorials which your own and other nations have once had of the
famous actions of mankind perish in the waters at certain
periods; and the rude survivors in the mountains begin again,
knowing nothing of the world before the flood. But in Egypt the
traditions of our own and other lands are by us registered for
ever in our temples. The genealogies which you have recited to us
out of your own annals, Solon, are a mere children’s story. For
in the first place, you remember one deluge only, and there were
many of them, and you know nothing of that fairest and noblest
race of which you are a seed or remnant. The memory of them was
lost, because there was no written voice among you. For in the
times before the great flood Athens was the greatest and best of
cities and did the noblest deeds and had the best constitution of
any under the face of heaven.’ Solon marvelled, and desired to be
informed of the particulars. ‘You are welcome to hear them,’ said
the priest, ‘both for your own sake and for that of the city, and
above all for the sake of the goddess who is the common foundress
of both our cities. Nine thousand years have elapsed since she
founded yours, and eight thousand since she founded ours, as our
annals record. Many laws exist among us which are the counterpart
of yours as they were in the olden time. I will briefly describe
them to you, and you shall read the account of them at your
leisure in the sacred registers. In the first place, there was a
caste of priests among the ancient Athenians, and another of
artisans; also castes of shepherds, hunters, and husbandmen, and
lastly of warriors, who, like the warriors of Egypt, were
separated from the rest, and carried shields and spears, a custom
which the goddess first taught you, and then the Asiatics, and we
among Asiatics first received from her. Observe again, what care
the law took in the pursuit of wisdom, searching out the deep
things of the world, and applying them to the use of man. The
spot of earth which the goddess chose had the best of climates,
and produced the wisest men; in no other was she herself, the
philosopher and warrior goddess, so likely to have votaries. And
there you dwelt as became the children of the gods, excelling all
men in virtue, and many famous actions are recorded of you. The
most famous of them all was the overthrow of the island of
Atlantis. This great island lay over against the Pillars of
Heracles, in extent greater than Libya and Asia put together, and
was the passage to other islands and to a great ocean of which
the Mediterranean sea was only the harbour; and within the
Pillars the empire of Atlantis reached in Europe to Tyrrhenia and
in Libya to Egypt. This mighty power was arrayed against Egypt
and Hellas and all the countries bordering on the Mediterranean.
Then your city did bravely, and won renown over the whole earth.
For at the peril of her own existence, and when the other
Hellenes had deserted her, she repelled the invader, and of her
own accord gave liberty to all the nations within the Pillars. A
little while afterwards there were great earthquakes and floods,
and your warrior race all sank into the earth; and the great
island of Atlantis also disappeared in the sea. This is the
explanation of the shallows which are found in that part of the
Atlantic ocean.’

Such was the tale, Socrates, which Critias heard from Solon; and
I noticed when listening to you yesterday, how close the
resemblance was between your city and citizens and the ancient
Athenian State. But I would not speak at the time, because I
wanted to refresh my memory. I had heard the old man when I was a
child, and though I could not remember the whole of our
yesterday’s discourse, I was able to recall every word of this,
which is branded into my mind; and I am prepared, Socrates, to
rehearse to you the entire narrative. The imaginary State which
you were describing may be identified with the reality of Solon,
and our antediluvian ancestors may be your citizens. ‘That is
excellent, Critias, and very appropriate to a Panathenaic
festival; the truth of the story is a great advantage.’ Then now
let me explain to you the order of our entertainment; first,
Timaeus, who is a natural philosopher, will speak of the origin
of the world, going down to the creation of man, and then I shall
receive the men whom he has created, and some of whom will have
been educated by you, and introduce them to you as the lost
Athenian citizens of whom the Egyptian record spoke. As the law
of Solon prescribes, we will bring them into court and
acknowledge their claims to citizenship. ‘I see,’ replied
Socrates, ‘that I shall be well entertained; and do you, Timaeus,
offer up a prayer and begin.’

TIMAEUS: All men who have any right feeling, at the beginning of
any enterprise, call upon the Gods; and he who is about to speak
of the origin of the universe has a special need of their aid.
May my words be acceptable to them, and may I speak in the manner
which will be most intelligible to you and will best express my
own meaning!

First, I must distinguish between that which always is and never
becomes and which is apprehended by reason and reflection, and
that which always becomes and never is and is conceived by
opinion with the help of sense. All that becomes and is created
is the work of a cause, and that is fair which the artificer
makes after an eternal pattern, but whatever is fashioned after a
created pattern is not fair. Is the world created or
uncreated?—that is the first question. Created, I reply, being
visible and tangible and having a body, and therefore sensible;
and if sensible, then created; and if created, made by a cause,
and the cause is the ineffable father of all things, who had
before him an eternal archetype. For to imagine that the
archetype was created would be blasphemy, seeing that the world
is the noblest of creations, and God is the best of causes. And
the world being thus created according to the eternal pattern is
the copy of something; and we may assume that words are akin to
the matter of which they speak. What is spoken of the unchanging
or intelligible must be certain and true; but what is spoken of
the created image can only be probable; being is to becoming what
truth is to belief. And amid the variety of opinions which have
arisen about God and the nature of the world we must be content
to take probability for our rule, considering that I, who am the
speaker, and you, who are the judges, are only men; to
probability we may attain but no further.

SOCRATES: Excellent, Timaeus, I like your manner of approaching
the subject—proceed.

TIMAEUS: Why did the Creator make the world?...He was good, and
therefore not jealous, and being free from jealousy he desired
that all things should be like himself. Wherefore he set in order
the visible world, which he found in disorder. Now he who is the
best could only create the fairest; and reflecting that of
visible things the intelligent is superior to the unintelligent,
he put intelligence in soul and soul in body, and framed the
universe to be the best and fairest work in the order of nature,
and the world became a living soul through the providence of God.

In the likeness of what animal was the world made?—that is the
third question...The form of the perfect animal was a whole, and
contained all intelligible beings, and the visible animal, made
after the pattern of this, included all visible creatures.

Are there many worlds or one only?—that is the fourth
question...One only. For if in the original there had been more
than one they would have been the parts of a third, which would
have been the true pattern of the world; and therefore there is,
and will ever be, but one created world. Now that which is
created is of necessity corporeal and visible and
tangible,—visible and therefore made of fire,—tangible and
therefore solid and made of earth. But two terms must be united
by a third, which is a mean between them; and had the earth been
a surface only, one mean would have sufficed, but two means are
required to unite solid bodies. And as the world was composed of
solids, between the elements of fire and earth God placed two
other elements of air and water, and arranged them in a
continuous proportion—

fire:air::air:water, and air:water::water:earth,

and so put together a visible and palpable heaven, having harmony
and friendship in the union of the four elements; and being at
unity with itself it was indissoluble except by the hand of the
framer. Each of the elements was taken into the universe whole
and entire; for he considered that the animal should be perfect
and one, leaving no remnants out of which another animal could be
created, and should also be free from old age and disease, which
are produced by the action of external forces. And as he was to
contain all things, he was made in the all-containing form of a
sphere, round as from a lathe and every way equidistant from the
centre, as was natural and suitable to him. He was finished and
smooth, having neither eyes nor ears, for there was nothing
without him which he could see or hear; and he had no need to
carry food to his mouth, nor was there air for him to breathe;
and he did not require hands, for there was nothing of which he
could take hold, nor feet, with which to walk. All that he did
was done rationally in and by himself, and he moved in a circle
turning within himself, which is the most intellectual of
motions; but the other six motions were wanting to him; wherefore
the universe had no feet or legs.

And so the thought of God made a God in the image of a perfect
body, having intercourse with himself and needing no other, but
in every part harmonious and self-contained and truly blessed.
The soul was first made by him—the elder to rule the younger; not
in the order in which our wayward fancy has led us to describe
them, but the soul first and afterwards the body. God took of the
unchangeable and indivisible and also of the divisible and
corporeal, and out of the two he made a third nature, essence,
which was in a mean between them, and partook of the same and the
other, the intractable nature of the other being compressed into
the same. Having made a compound of all the three, he proceeded
to divide the entire mass into portions related to one another in
the ratios of 1, 2, 3, 4, 9, 8, 27, and proceeded to fill up the
double and triple intervals thus—

- over 1, 4/3, 3/2, - over 2, 8/3, 3, - over 4, 16/3, 6, - over 8:
- over 1, 3/2, 2, - over 3, 9/2, 6, - over 9, 27/2, 18, - over 27;

in which double series of numbers are two kinds of means; the one
exceeds and is exceeded by equal parts of the extremes, e.g. 1,
4/3, 2; the other kind of mean is one which is equidistant from
the extremes—2, 4, 6. In this manner there were formed intervals
of thirds, 3:2, of fourths, 4:3, and of ninths, 9:8. And next he
filled up the intervals of a fourth with ninths, leaving a
remnant which is in the ratio of 256:243. The entire compound was
divided by him lengthways into two parts, which he united at the
centre like the letter X, and bent into an inner and outer circle
or sphere, cutting one another again at a point over against the
point at which they cross. The outer circle or sphere was named
the sphere of the same—the inner, the sphere of the other or
diverse; and the one revolved horizontally to the right, the
other diagonally to the left. To the sphere of the same which was
undivided he gave dominion, but the sphere of the other or
diverse was distributed into seven unequal orbits, having
intervals in ratios of twos and threes, three of either sort, and
he bade the orbits move in opposite directions to one
another—three of them, the Sun, Mercury, Venus, with equal
swiftness, and the remaining four—the Moon, Saturn, Mars,
Jupiter, with unequal swiftness to the three and to one another,
but all in due proportion.

When the Creator had made the soul he made the body within her;
and the soul interfused everywhere from the centre to the
circumference of heaven, herself turning in herself, began a
divine life of rational and everlasting motion. The body of
heaven is visible, but the soul is invisible, and partakes of
reason and harmony, and is the best of creations, being the work
of the best. And being composed of the same, the other, and the
essence, these three, and also divided and bound in harmonical
proportion, and revolving within herself—the soul when touching
anything which has essence, whether divided or undivided, is
stirred to utter the sameness or diversity of that and some other
thing, and to tell how and when and where individuals are
affected or related, whether in the world of change or of
essence. When reason is in the neighbourhood of sense, and the
circle of the other or diverse is moving truly, then arise true
opinions and beliefs; when reason is in the sphere of thought,
and the circle of the same runs smoothly, then intelligence is
perfected.

When the Father who begat the world saw the image which he had
made of the Eternal Gods moving and living, he rejoiced; and in
his joy resolved, since the archetype was eternal, to make the
creature eternal as far as this was possible. Wherefore he made
an image of eternity which is time, having an uniform motion
according to number, parted into months and days and years, and
also having greater divisions of past, present, and future. These
all apply to becoming in time, and have no meaning in relation to
the eternal nature, which ever is and never was or will be; for
the unchangeable is never older or younger, and when we say that
he ‘was’ or ‘will be,’ we are mistaken, for these words are
applicable only to becoming, and not to true being; and equally
wrong are we in saying that what has become IS become and that
what becomes IS becoming, and that the non-existent IS
non-existent...These are the forms of time which imitate eternity
and move in a circle measured by number.

Thus was time made in the image of the eternal nature; and it was
created together with the heavens, in order that if they were
dissolved, it might perish with them. And God made the sun and
moon and five other wanderers, as they are called, seven in all,
and to each of them he gave a body moving in an orbit, being one
of the seven orbits into which the circle of the other was
divided. He put the moon in the orbit which was nearest to the
earth, the sun in that next, the morning star and Mercury in the
orbits which move opposite to the sun but with equal
swiftness—this being the reason why they overtake and are
overtaken by one another. All these bodies became living
creatures, and learnt their appointed tasks, and began to move,
the nearer more swiftly, the remoter more slowly, according to
the diagonal movement of the other. And since this was controlled
by the movement of the same, the seven planets in their courses
appeared to describe spirals; and that appeared fastest which was
slowest, and that which overtook others appeared to be overtaken
by them. And God lighted a fire in the second orbit from the
earth which is called the sun, to give light over the whole
heaven, and to teach intelligent beings that knowledge of number
which is derived from the revolution of the same. Thus arose day
and night, which are the periods of the most intelligent nature;
a month is created by the revolution of the moon, a year by that
of the sun. Other periods of wonderful length and complexity are
not observed by men in general; there is moreover a cycle or
perfect year at the completion of which they all meet and
coincide...To this end the stars came into being, that the
created heaven might imitate the eternal nature.

Thus far the universal animal was made in the divine image, but
the other animals were not as yet included in him. And God
created them according to the patterns or species of them which
existed in the divine original. There are four of them: one of
gods, another of birds, a third of fishes, and a fourth of
animals. The gods were made in the form of a circle, which is the
most perfect figure and the figure of the universe. They were
created chiefly of fire, that they might be bright, and were made
to know and follow the best, and to be scattered over the
heavens, of which they were to be the glory. Two kinds of motion
were assigned to them—first, the revolution in the same and
around the same, in peaceful unchanging thought of the same; and
to this was added a forward motion which was under the control of
the same. Thus then the fixed stars were created, being divine
and eternal animals, revolving on the same spot, and the
wandering stars, in their courses, were created in the manner
already described. The earth, which is our nurse, clinging around
the pole extended through the universe, he made to be the
guardian and artificer of night and day, first and eldest of gods
that are in the interior of heaven. Vain would be the labour of
telling all the figures of them, moving as in dance, and their
juxta-positions and approximations, and when and where and behind
what other stars they appear to disappear—to tell of all this
without looking at a plan of them would be labour in vain.

The knowledge of the other gods is beyond us, and we can only
accept the traditions of the ancients, who were the children of
the gods, as they said; for surely they must have known their own
ancestors. Although they give no proof, we must believe them as
is customary. They tell us that Oceanus and Tethys were the
children of Earth and Heaven; that Phoreys, Cronos, and Rhea came
in the next generation, and were followed by Zeus and Here, whose
brothers and children are known to everybody.

When all of them, both those who show themselves in the sky, and
those who retire from view, had come into being, the Creator
addressed them thus:—‘Gods, sons of gods, my works, if I will,
are indissoluble. That which is bound may be dissolved, but only
an evil being would dissolve that which is harmonious and happy.
And although you are not immortal you shall not die, for I will
hold you together. Hear me, then:—Three tribes of mortal beings
have still to be created, but if created by me they would be like
gods. Do ye therefore make them; I will implant in them the seed
of immortality, and you shall weave together the mortal and
immortal, and provide food for them, and receive them again in
death.’ Thus he spake, and poured the remains of the elements
into the cup in which he had mingled the soul of the universe.
They were no longer pure as before, but diluted; and the mixture
he distributed into souls equal in number to the stars, and
assigned each to a star—then having mounted them, as in a
chariot, he showed them the nature of the universe, and told them
of their future birth and human lot. They were to be sown in the
planets, and out of them was to come forth the most religious of
animals, which would hereafter be called man. The souls were to
be implanted in bodies, which were in a perpetual flux, whence,
he said, would arise, first, sensation; secondly, love, which is
a mixture of pleasure and pain; thirdly, fear and anger, and the
opposite affections: and if they conquered these, they would live
righteously, but if they were conquered by them, unrighteously.
He who lived well would return to his native star, and would
there have a blessed existence; but, if he lived ill, he would
pass into the nature of a woman, and if he did not then alter his
evil ways, into the likeness of some animal, until the reason
which was in him reasserted her sway over the elements of fire,
air, earth, water, which had engrossed her, and he regained his
first and better nature. Having given this law to his creatures,
that he might be guiltless of their future evil, he sowed them,
some in the earth, some in the moon, and some in the other
planets; and he ordered the younger gods to frame human bodies
for them and to make the necessary additions to them, and to
avert from them all but self-inflicted evil.

Having given these commands, the Creator remained in his own
nature. And his children, receiving from him the immortal
principle, borrowed from the world portions of earth, air, fire,
water, hereafter to be returned, which they fastened together,
not with the adamantine bonds which bound themselves, but by
little invisible pegs, making each separate body out of all the
elements, subject to influx and efflux, and containing the
courses of the soul. These swelling and surging as in a river
moved irregularly and irrationally in all the six possible ways,
forwards, backwards, right, left, up and down. But violent as
were the internal and alimentary fluids, the tide became still
more violent when the body came into contact with flaming fire,
or the solid earth, or gliding waters, or the stormy wind; the
motions produced by these impulses pass through the body to the
soul and have the name of sensations. Uniting with the
ever-flowing current, they shake the courses of the soul,
stopping the revolution of the same and twisting in all sorts of
ways the nature of the other, and the harmonical ratios of twos
and threes and the mean terms which connect them, until the
circles are bent and disordered and their motion becomes
irregular. You may imagine a position of the body in which the
head is resting upon the ground, and the legs are in the air, and
the top is bottom and the left right. And something similar
happens when the disordered motions of the soul come into contact
with any external thing; they say the same or the other in a
manner which is the very opposite of the truth, and they are
false and foolish, and have no guiding principle in them. And
when external impressions enter in, they are really conquered,
though they seem to conquer.

By reason of these affections the soul is at first without
intelligence, but as time goes on the stream of nutriment abates,
and the courses of the soul regain their proper motion, and
apprehend the same and the other rightly, and become rational.
The soul of him who has education is whole and perfect and
escapes the worst disease, but, if a man’s education be
neglected, he walks lamely through life and returns good for
nothing to the world below. This, however, is an after-stage—at
present, we are only concerned with the creation of the body and
soul.

The two divine courses were encased by the gods in a sphere which
is called the head, and is the god and lord of us. And to this
they gave the body to be a vehicle, and the members to be
instruments, having the power of flexion and extension. Such was
the origin of legs and arms. In the next place, the gods gave a
forward motion to the human body, because the front part of man
was the more honourable and had authority. And they put in a face
in which they inserted organs to minister in all things to the
providence of the soul. They first contrived the eyes, into which
they conveyed a light akin to the light of day, making it flow
through the pupils. When the light of the eye is surrounded by
the light of day, then like falls upon like, and they unite and
form one body which conveys to the soul the motions of visible
objects. But when the visual ray goes forth into the darkness,
then unlike falls upon unlike—the eye no longer sees, and we go
to sleep. The fire or light, when kept in by the eyelids,
equalizes the inward motions, and there is rest accompanied by
few dreams; only when the greater motions remain they engender in
us corresponding visions of the night. And now we shall be able
to understand the nature of reflections in mirrors. The fires
from within and from without meet about the smooth and bright
surface of the mirror; and because they meet in a manner contrary
to the usual mode, the right and left sides of the object are
transposed. In a concave mirror the top and bottom are inverted,
but this is no transposition.

These are the second causes which God used as his ministers in
fashioning the world. They are thought by many to be the prime
causes, but they are not so; for they are destitute of mind and
reason, and the lover of mind will not allow that there are any
prime causes other than the rational and invisible ones—these he
investigates first, and afterwards the causes of things which are
moved by others, and which work by chance and without order. Of
the second or concurrent causes of sight I have already spoken,
and I will now speak of the higher purpose of God in giving us
eyes. Sight is the source of the greatest benefits to us; for if
our eyes had never seen the sun, stars, and heavens, the words
which we have spoken would not have been uttered. The sight of
them and their revolutions has given us the knowledge of number
and time, the power of enquiry, and philosophy, which is the
great blessing of human life; not to speak of the lesser benefits
which even the vulgar can appreciate. God gave us the faculty of
sight that we might behold the order of the heavens and create a
corresponding order in our own erring minds. To the like end the
gifts of speech and hearing were bestowed upon us; not for the
sake of irrational pleasure, but in order that we might harmonize
the courses of the soul by sympathy with the harmony of sound,
and cure ourselves of our irregular and graceless ways.

Thus far we have spoken of the works of mind; and there are other
works done from necessity, which we must now place beside them;
for the creation is made up of both, mind persuading necessity as
far as possible to work out good. Before the heavens there
existed fire, air, water, earth, which we suppose men to know,
though no one has explained their nature, and we erroneously
maintain them to be the letters or elements of the whole,
although they cannot reasonably be compared even to syllables or
first compounds. I am not now speaking of the first principles of
things, because I cannot discover them by our present mode of
enquiry. But as I observed the rule of probability at first, I
will begin anew, seeking by the grace of God to observe it still.

In our former discussion I distinguished two kinds of being—the
unchanging or invisible, and the visible or changing. But now a
third kind is required, which I shall call the receptacle or
nurse of generation. There is a difficulty in arriving at an
exact notion of this third kind, because the four elements
themselves are of inexact natures and easily pass into one
another, and are too transient to be detained by any one name;
wherefore we are compelled to speak of water or fire, not as
substances, but as qualities. They may be compared to images made
of gold, which are continually assuming new forms. Somebody asks
what they are; if you do not know, the safest answer is to reply
that they are gold. In like manner there is a universal nature
out of which all things are made, and which is like none of them;
but they enter into and pass out of her, and are made after
patterns of the true in a wonderful and inexplicable manner. The
containing principle may be likened to a mother, the source or
spring to a father, the intermediate nature to a child; and we
may also remark that the matter which receives every variety of
form must be formless, like the inodorous liquids which are
prepared to receive scents, or the smooth and soft materials on
which figures are impressed. In the same way space or matter is
neither earth nor fire nor air nor water, but an invisible and
formless being which receives all things, and in an
incomprehensible manner partakes of the intelligible. But we may
say, speaking generally, that fire is that part of this nature
which is inflamed, water that which is moistened, and the like.

Let me ask a question in which a great principle is involved: Is
there an essence of fire and the other elements, or are there
only fires visible to sense? I answer in a word: If mind is one
thing and true opinion another, then there are self-existent
essences; but if mind is the same with opinion, then the visible
and corporeal is most real. But they are not the same, and they
have a different origin and nature. The one comes to us by
instruction, the other by persuasion, the one is rational, the
other is irrational; the one is movable by persuasion, the other
immovable; the one is possessed by every man, the other by the
gods and by very few men. And we must acknowledge that as there
are two kinds of knowledge, so there are two kinds of being
corresponding to them; the one uncreated, indestructible,
immovable, which is seen by intelligence only; the other created,
which is always becoming in place and vanishing out of place, and
is apprehended by opinion and sense. There is also a third
nature—that of space, which is indestructible, and is perceived
by a kind of spurious reason without the help of sense. This is
presented to us in a dreamy manner, and yet is said to be
necessary, for we say that all things must be somewhere in space.
For they are the images of other things and must therefore have a
separate existence and exist in something (i.e. in space). But
true reason assures us that while two things (i.e. the idea and
the image) are different they cannot inhere in one another, so as
to be one and two at the same time.

To sum up: Being and generation and space, these three, existed
before the heavens, and the nurse or vessel of generation,
moistened by water and inflamed by fire, and taking the forms of
air and earth, assumed various shapes. By the motion of the
vessel, the elements were divided, and like grain winnowed by
fans, the close and heavy particles settled in one place, the
light and airy ones in another. At first they were without reason
and measure, and had only certain faint traces of themselves,
until God fashioned them by figure and number. In this, as in
every other part of creation, I suppose God to have made things,
as far as was possible, fair and good, out of things not fair and
good.

And now I will explain to you the generation of the world by a
method with which your scientific training will have made you
familiar. Fire, air, earth, and water are bodies and therefore
solids, and solids are contained in planes, and plane rectilinear
figures are made up of triangles. Of triangles there are two
kinds; one having the opposite sides equal (isosceles), the other
with unequal sides (scalene). These we may fairly assume to be
the original elements of fire and the other bodies; what
principles are prior to these God only knows, and he of men whom
God loves. Next, we must determine what are the four most
beautiful figures which are unlike one another and yet sometimes
capable of resolution into one another...Of the two kinds of
triangles the equal-sided has but one form, the unequal-sided has
an infinite variety of forms; and there is none more beautiful
than that which forms the half of an equilateral triangle. Let us
then choose two triangles; one, the isosceles, the other, that
form of scalene which has the square of the longer side three
times as great as the square of the lesser side; and affirm that,
out of these, fire and the other elements have been constructed.

I was wrong in imagining that all the four elements could be
generated into and out of one another. For as they are formed,
three of them from the triangle which has the sides unequal, the
fourth from the triangle which has equal sides, three can be
resolved into one another, but the fourth cannot be resolved into
them nor they into it. So much for their passage into one
another: I must now speak of their construction. From the
triangle of which the hypotenuse is twice the lesser side the
three first regular solids are formed—first, the equilateral
pyramid or tetrahedron; secondly, the octahedron; thirdly, the
icosahedron; and from the isosceles triangle is formed the cube.
And there is a fifth figure (which is made out of twelve
pentagons), the dodecahedron—this God used as a model for the
twelvefold division of the Zodiac.

Let us now assign the geometrical forms to their respective
elements. The cube is the most stable of them because resting on
a quadrangular plane surface, and composed of isosceles
triangles. To the earth then, which is the most stable of bodies
and the most easily modelled of them, may be assigned the form of
a cube; and the remaining forms to the other elements,—to fire
the pyramid, to air the octahedron, and to water the
icosahedron,—according to their degrees of lightness or heaviness
or power, or want of power, of penetration. The single particles
of any of the elements are not seen by reason of their smallness;
they only become visible when collected. The ratios of their
motions, numbers, and other properties, are ordered by the God,
who harmonized them as far as necessity permitted.

The probable conclusion is as follows:—Earth, when dissolved by
the more penetrating element of fire, whether acting immediately
or through the medium of air or water, is decomposed but not
transformed. Water, when divided by fire or air, becomes one part
fire, and two parts air. A volume of air divided becomes two of
fire. On the other hand, when condensed, two volumes of fire make
a volume of air; and two and a half parts of air condense into
one of water. Any element which is fastened upon by fire is cut
by the sharpness of the triangles, until at length, coalescing
with the fire, it is at rest; for similars are not affected by
similars. When two kinds of bodies quarrel with one another, then
the tendency to decomposition continues until the smaller either
escapes to its kindred element or becomes one with its conqueror.
And this tendency in bodies to condense or escape is a source of
motion...Where there is motion there must be a mover, and where
there is a mover there must be something to move. These cannot
exist in what is uniform, and therefore motion is due to want of
uniformity. But then why, when things are divided after their
kinds, do they not cease from motion? The answer is, that the
circular motion of all things compresses them, and as ‘nature
abhors a vacuum,’ the finer and more subtle particles of the
lighter elements, such as fire and air, are thrust into the
interstices of the larger, each of them penetrating according to
their rarity, and thus all the elements are on their way up and
down everywhere and always into their own places. Hence there is
a principle of inequality, and therefore of motion, in all time.

In the next place, we may observe that there are different kinds
of fire—(1) flame, (2) light that burns not, (3) the red heat of
the embers of fire. And there are varieties of air, as for
example, the pure aether, the opaque mist, and other nameless
forms. Water, again, is of two kinds, liquid and fusile. The
liquid is composed of small and unequal particles, the fusile of
large and uniform particles and is more solid, but nevertheless
melts at the approach of fire, and then spreads upon the earth.
When the substance cools, the fire passes into the air, which is
displaced, and forces together and condenses the liquid mass.
This process is called cooling and congealment. Of the fusile
kinds the fairest and heaviest is gold; this is hardened by
filtration through rock, and is of a bright yellow colour. A
shoot of gold which is darker and denser than the rest is called
adamant. Another kind is called copper, which is harder and yet
lighter because the interstices are larger than in gold. There is
mingled with it a fine and small portion of earth which comes out
in the form of rust. These are a few of the conjectures which
philosophy forms, when, leaving the eternal nature, she turns for
innocent recreation to consider the truths of generation.

Water which is mingled with fire is called liquid because it
rolls upon the earth, and soft because its bases give way. This
becomes more equable when separated from fire and air, and then
congeals into hail or ice, or the looser forms of hoar frost or
snow. There are other waters which are called juices and are
distilled through plants. Of these we may mention, first, wine,
which warms the soul as well as the body; secondly, oily
substances, as for example, oil or pitch; thirdly, honey, which
relaxes the contracted parts of the mouth and so produces
sweetness; fourthly, vegetable acid, which is frothy and has a
burning quality and dissolves the flesh. Of the kinds of earth,
that which is filtered through water passes into stone; the water
is broken up by the earth and escapes in the form of air—this in
turn presses upon the mass of earth, and the earth, compressed
into an indissoluble union with the remaining water, becomes
rock. Rock, when it is made up of equal particles, is fair and
transparent, but the reverse when of unequal. Earth is converted
into pottery when the watery part is suddenly drawn away; or if
moisture remains, the earth, when fused by fire, becomes, on
cooling, a stone of a black colour. When the earth is finer and
of a briny nature then two half-solid bodies are formed by
separating the water,—soda and salt. The strong compounds of
earth and water are not soluble by water, but only by fire. Earth
itself, when not consolidated, is dissolved by water; when
consolidated, by fire only. The cohesion of water, when strong,
is dissolved by fire only; when weak, either by air or fire, the
former entering the interstices, the latter penetrating even the
triangles. Air when strongly condensed is indissoluble by any
power which does not reach the triangles, and even when not
strongly condensed is only resolved by fire. Compounds of earth
and water are unaffected by water while the water occupies the
interstices in them, but begin to liquefy when fire enters into
the interstices of the water. They are of two kinds, some of
them, like glass, having more earth, others, like wax, having
more water in them.

Having considered objects of sense, we now pass on to sensation.
But we cannot explain sensation without explaining the nature of
flesh and of the mortal soul; and as we cannot treat of both
together, in order that we may proceed at once to the sensations
we must assume the existence of body and soul.

What makes fire burn? The fineness of the sides, the sharpness of
the angles, the smallness of the particles, the quickness of the
motion. Moreover, the pyramid, which is the figure of fire, is
more cutting than any other. The feeling of cold is produced by
the larger particles of moisture outside the body trying to eject
the smaller ones in the body which they compress. The struggle
which arises between elements thus unnaturally brought together
causes shivering. That is hard to which the flesh yields, and
soft which yields to the flesh, and these two terms are also
relative to one another. The yielding matter is that which has
the slenderest base, whereas that which has a rectangular base is
compact and repellent. Light and heavy are wrongly explained with
reference to a lower and higher in place. For in the universe,
which is a sphere, there is no opposition of above or below, and
that which is to us above would be below to a man standing at the
antipodes. The greater or less difficulty in detaching any
element from its like is the real cause of heaviness or of
lightness. If you draw the earth into the dissimilar air, the
particles of earth cling to their native element, and you more
easily detach a small portion than a large. There would be the
same difficulty in moving any of the upper elements towards the
lower. The smooth and the rough are severally produced by the
union of evenness with compactness, and of hardness with
inequality.

Pleasure and pain are the most important of the affections common
to the whole body. According to our general doctrine of
sensation, parts of the body which are easily moved readily
transmit the motion to the mind; but parts which are not easily
moved have no effect upon the patient. The bones and hair are of
the latter kind, sight and hearing of the former. Ordinary
affections are neither pleasant nor painful. The impressions of
sight afford an example of these, and are neither violent nor
sudden. But sudden replenishments of the body cause pleasure, and
sudden disturbances, as for example cuttings and burnings, have
the opposite effect.

>From sensations common to the whole body, we proceed to those of
particular parts. The affections of the tongue appear to be
caused by contraction and dilation, but they have more of
roughness or smoothness than is found in other affections. Earthy
particles, entering into the small veins of the tongue which
reach to the heart, when they melt into and dry up the little
veins are astringent if they are rough; or if not so rough, they
are only harsh, and if excessively abstergent, like potash and
soda, bitter. Purgatives of a weaker sort are called salt and,
having no bitterness, are rather agreeable. Inflammatory bodies,
which by their lightness are carried up into the head, cutting
all that comes in their way, are termed pungent. But when these
are refined by putrefaction, and enter the narrow veins of the
tongue, and meet there particles of earth and air, two kinds of
globules are formed—one of earthy and impure liquid, which boils
and ferments, the other of pure and transparent water, which are
called bubbles; of all these affections the cause is termed acid.
When, on the other hand, the composition of the deliquescent
particles is congenial to the tongue, and disposes the parts
according to their nature, this remedial power in them is called
sweet.

Smells are not divided into kinds; all of them are transitional,
and arise out of the decomposition of one element into another,
for the simple air or water is without smell. They are vapours or
mists, thinner than water and thicker than air: and hence in
drawing in the breath, when there is an obstruction, the air
passes, but there is no smell. They have no names, but are
distinguished as pleasant and unpleasant, and their influence
extends over the whole region from the head to the navel.

Hearing is the effect of a stroke which is transmitted through
the ears by means of the air, brain, and blood to the soul,
beginning at the head and extending to the liver. The sound which
moves swiftly is acute; that which moves slowly is grave; that
which is uniform is smooth, and the opposite is harsh. Loudness
depends on the quantity of the sound. Of the harmony of sounds I
will hereafter speak.

Colours are flames which emanate from all bodies, having
particles corresponding to the sense of sight. Some of the
particles are less and some larger, and some are equal to the
parts of the sight. The equal particles appear transparent; the
larger contract, and the lesser dilate the sight. White is
produced by the dilation, black by the contraction, of the
particles of sight. There is also a swifter motion of another
sort of fire which forces a way through the passages of the eyes,
and elicits from them a union of fire and water which we call
tears. The inner fire flashes forth, and the outer finds a way in
and is extinguished in the moisture, and all sorts of colours are
generated by the mixture. This affection is termed by us
dazzling, and the object which produces it is called bright.
There is yet another sort of fire which mingles with the moisture
of the eye without flashing, and produces a colour like blood—to
this we give the name of red. A bright element mingling with red
and white produces a colour which we call auburn. The law of
proportion, however, according to which compound colours are
formed, cannot be determined scientifically or even probably.
Red, when mingled with black and white, gives a purple hue, which
becomes umber when the colours are burnt and there is a larger
admixture of black. Flame-colour is a mixture of auburn and dun;
dun of white and black; yellow of white and auburn. White and
bright meeting, and falling upon a full black, become dark blue;
dark blue mingling with white becomes a light blue; the union of
flame-colour and black makes leek-green. There is no difficulty
in seeing how other colours are probably composed. But he who
should attempt to test the truth of this by experiment, would
forget the difference of the human and divine nature. God only is
able to compound and resolve substances; such experiments are
impossible to man.

These are the elements of necessity which the Creator received in
the world of generation when he made the all-sufficient and
perfect creature, using the secondary causes as his ministers,
but himself fashioning the good in all things. For there are two
sorts of causes, the one divine, the other necessary; and we
should seek to discover the divine above all, and, for their
sake, the necessary, because without them the higher cannot be
attained by us.