Moral Letters to Lucilius

​Even now, there is something higher than body. For we say that some things are corporeal, and some are incorporeal. What then will it be, from which these are derived? That to which we just now applied a not very proper name, ‘that which is.’ For it will be divided into species in such a way that we say: ‘that which is’ is either corporeal or incorporeal.

​This therefore is the first and oldest and, so to speak, most general genus. Other things are indeed genera, but special ones. Just as ‘man’ is a genus. For it contains within itself the species of nations: Greeks, Romans, Parthians. Of colors: white, black, yellow. It contains individuals: Cato, Cicero, Lucretius. Thus, in so far as (qua) it contains many things, it falls under genus; in so far as it is under another, under species. That most general genus, ‘that which is,’ has nothing above itself; it is the beginning of things; all things are under it.

​The Stoics want to place still another, more primary genus above this; of which I shall speak immediately, if I first show that that genus of which I have spoken is deservedly placed first, since it is capable of containing all things.

​I divide ‘that which is’ into these species, so that they are either corporeal or incorporeal. There is no third. How do I divide ‘body’? So as to say: they are either animate or inanimate. Again, how do I divide animate things? So as to say: some have a mind, some only a soul/life. Or thus: some have impulse, they walk, they move about; some, fixed to the ground by roots, are nourished and grow. Again, into what species do I cut ‘animals’? They are either mortal or immortal.

​The first genus seems to certain Stoics to be ‘something.’ I will subjoin why it so seems: ‘In the nature of things,’ they say, ‘some things exist, some do not exist. And yet nature comprises even these which do not exist, which occur to the mind, such as Centaurs, Giants, and whatever else, formed by false thought, has begun to have some image, although it has no substance.’

​Now I return to what I promised you, how Plato partitions whatever exists into six modes. First, that ‘that which is’ is comprehended neither by sight, nor by touch, nor by any sense; it is object of thought. What exists generally, such as a general ‘man’, does not come before the eyes; but a special one does, such as Cicero and Cato. ‘Animal’ is not seen; it is thought of. But its species, ‘horse’ and ‘dog’, are seen.

​The second of these which exist, Plato places that which stands out and surpasses all things. He says that this exists by way of excellence. ‘Poet’ is commonly said, for all who make verses have this name, but already among the Greeks it has passed into the designation of one person; you understand Homer when you hear ‘the poet’. What then is this? God, of course, greater and more powerful than all.

​The third genus is of those things which properly exist; these are innumerable, but placed outside of our sight. What are they, you ask? They are Plato’s own equipment; he calls them ‘ideas’, from which all things, whatever we see, are made, and according to which all things are formed.

​These are immortal, immutable, inviolable. Hear what an ‘idea’ is, that is, what it seems to Plato to be: ‘An idea is the eternal exemplar of those things which are made by nature.’ I will add an interpretation to the definition, so that the matter may become clearer to you: I want to make your portrait. I have you as the exemplar of the painting, from which our mind takes some form, which it may impose on its work. Thus, that face which teaches and instructs me, from which the imitation is sought, is the ‘idea’. Therefore, the nature of things has infinite such exemplars, of men, of fish, of trees, according to which whatever must be made by it is expressed.