SECTION IV.

We are informed by Proclus, in the ensuing Commentaries, that the end

of geometry, and, indeed, of mathematics in general, is to be referred

to the energies of intellect; and that it is degraded when made

subservient to the common utilities of a mere animal life. But as the

very opposite to this is the prevailing opinion of the present age,

let us examine the truth of this doctrine, and attend to the arguments

which the Platonic philosophy affords in its defence. For if we can

prove that this assertion of Proclus is supported by the strongest

evidence, we shall vindicate the dignity of true geometry, restore it

to its ancient esteem in the minds of the liberal, and shew how much it

is perverted by applying it to contrary purposes.

In order to this, I shall endeavour to prove the following position,

that things valuable for their own sakes, are preferable to such as

refer to something else. Now, this may be demonstrated, by considering

that every natural production was made with reference to some end, as

is evident from an induction of particulars; and if this be the case,

it may be safely inferred, that every thing exists for the sake of the

end. But that for the sake of which any being subsists is the best

of all; and the end, according to nature, is that which is perfected

the last of all, from the birth of any being. Hence the human body

receives its end or perfection first, but the soul last. And hence the

soul is posterior to the body, in the accomplishment of its nature;

and its ultimate perfection is wisdom. It is on this account that old

age alone pursues and desires the goods of prudence and wisdom. Hence,

wisdom is a certain end to us according to nature; and to be wise,

is the extreme or final cause for which we were produced. It was,

therefore, beautifully said by Pythagoras, that man was constituted

by divinity, that he might know, and contemplate. If then wisdom be

the end of our nature, to be endued with wisdom must be the best of

all. So that other things are to be performed for the sake of the good

which this contains. But to enquire in every science something besides

this, and to require that it should be useful, is alone the employment

of one ignorant of the great difference between the most illustrious

goods, and things necessary. For they differ, indeed, widely; since

things are to be called necessaries, which are the objects of desire

for the sake of others, and without which it is impossible to live. But

those concerns alone are properly good, which are loved by themselves,

though nothing else should fall to the lot of their possessor; for one

thing is not to be desired for the sake of another infinitely, but it

is requisite to stop at some limited object of desire, of which it

would be ridiculous to require any utility abstracted from itself.

But you will ask, What is the emolument of contemplative wisdom, what

the good it confers on its possessor? What if we should say (for such

is the truth of the case) that it transports us by intellect and

cogitation, to regions similar to the fortunate islands; for utility

and necessity are strangers to those happy and liberal realms. And

if this be admitted, ought we not to blush, that having it in our

power to become inhabitants of the fortunate islands, we neglect the

pursuit, through a sordid enquiry after what is useful and profitable

according to vulgar estimation? The rewards of science, therefore, are

not to be reprehended, nor is it a trifling good which results from

its acquisition. Besides, as men travel to the mountain Olympus for

its spectacle alone, preferring a view of its lofty summit to much

wealth; and as many other spectacles are desired for their own sakes,

and valued beyond gold, in like manner the speculation of the universe

is to be prized above every thing which appears useful to the purposes

of life: for it is surely shameful that we should eagerly frequent

the theatre, and the race, for the sake of the delight afforded to

our corporeal sight, and should look for no farther utility in these

than the pleasure they produce; and yet should be so sordidly stupid

as to think that the nature of things, and truth itself are not to be

speculated without some farther reward than the sincere delight their

contemplation affords.

It is on this account that the apprehension of truth is compared to

corporeal vision; for the sight is the most liberal of all the senses,

as is confirmed by the general testimony of mankind. Hence, the sight

of the sun and moon, and the glorious spectacle of the stars is desired

by the most illiterate as well as the most knowing, for the delight

such visions afford; while, on the contrary, the desires of the other

senses are for the most part directed to something farther than the

mere objects of their energy. Thus, even the sense of hearing, which

is the next in dignity to the sight, is not always desirable for its

own sake; for light is the general object of sight, and sound that of

hearing; but it is evident that light is more universally desired than

sound, since all light, when not excessive, is always pleasing, but

this is by no means the case with every kind of sound. Hence it is,

that all contemplation is so delightful, and this in proportion as it

becomes abstracted from sensible objects; for the most beautiful forms

do not produce genuine delight, until they are strongly represented in

the phantasy, as is evident in the passion of love; since the fairest

face then alone causes love when it presents itself clearly to the

inward eye of thought, in the mirror of imagination, accompanied with

living elegance, and a resistless energy of form.

Indeed, so liberal and so exalted an employment is contemplation,

that Plotinus, with his usual profundity, proves that the universe

subsists for its sake; that all the productions of nature originate

from this; and that even actions themselves are undertaken with a

view to the enjoyment of after-speculation. May we not, therefore,

say that the sportsman follows the chace for the sake of a subsequent

review of his favourite pursuit? That the glutton for this rejoices in

the meal; and even the miser in his wealth? And that conversation is

alone sollicited, that it may recal past images to the soul? In short,

contemplation is the first spring of action, and its only end; since we

are first incited to any external object by speculating its image in

the phantasy: and our subsequent conduct tends, without ceasing, to the

energy of reflection; for destroy prior and posterior contemplation,

and action is no more.

Now if this be the case, and if geometry is a speculative science (I

mean the geometry of the ancients), it is both desirable for its own

sake, and for still higher contemplations, the visions of intellect,

to which it is ultimately subservient. For, when studied with this

view, it opens the eye of the soul to spectacles of perfect reality,

and purifies it from the darkness of material oblivion. Away then,

ye sordid vulgar, who are perpetually demanding the utility of

abstract speculations, and who are impatient to bring down and debase

the noblest energies, to the most groveling purposes; ignorant of

that mighty principle of action, which influences every part of the

universe, and through which even division and discord tend as much as

possible to union and consent; ignorant that from the depravity of your

nature, and the blindness of your inward eye, you are incapable of

speculating the substance of reality, and are therefore eagerly gazing

on its shadow: and lastly, unconscious that this is the point about

which you are continually making excentric revolutions, mistaking the

circumference for the centre, motion for rest, and a departure from

good for a tendency to felicity.

It was for the sake of this most exalted and liberal contemplation that

Heraclitus yielded his right of succession to a throne, to his brother;

and that Anaxagoras neglected his patrimony, esteeming one drop of

genuine wisdom preferable to whole tuns of riches. Led by a desire of

this, as by some guiding star, Pythagoras travelled into Egypt, and

cheerfully encountered the greatest difficulties, and maintained the

most obstinate perseverance, until at length he happily penetrated

the depths of Egyptian wisdom, and brought into Greece a treasury of

truth for future speculation. But these were happy days; this was the

period destined to the reign of _true philosophy_, and to the

advancement of the human soul to the greatest perfection its union with

this terrene body can admit. For in our times, the voice of wisdom is

no longer heard in the silence of sacred solitude; but _folly_

usurping her place, has filled every quarter with the barbarous and

deafning clamours of despicable sectaries; while the brutal hand of

commerce has blinded the liberal eye of divine contemplation. For

unfortunately, the circle of time, as it produces continual variations,

at length reverses the objects of pursuit; and hence, that which was

once deservedly first, becomes at length, by a degraded revolution, the

last in the general esteem.

2. If geometry, therefore, be both valuable for its own sake, and

for its subserviency to the most exalted contemplations, there can

be no doubt but that the great perfection to which this science was

brought by the Greeks, was entirely owing to their deep conviction

of this important truth. Euclid, we are informed by Proclus, in

this work, was of the Platonic sect; and Archimedes is reported, by

Plutarch, in his Life of Marcellus, to have possessed such elevated

sentiments of the intrinsic dignity of geometry, that he considered

it perverted and degraded, when subservient to mechanical operations;

though, at the request of king Hiero, he fabricated such admirable

engines for the defence of Syracuse. From this source alone, the great

accuracy and elegance of their demonstrations was derived, which have

been so deservedly applauded by the greatest modern mathematicians,

and the warmest advocates for the farrago of algebraic calculation.

Algebra, indeed, or as it is called, _specious analysis_, is the

modern substitute for the perfect method adopted by the ancients in

geometrical demonstrations; and this solely, because it is capable of

being applied with greater facility to the common purposes of life.

Hence, hypotheses have been eagerly admitted in geometry, which the

ancients would have blushed to own: I mean the multiplications and

divisions of lines and spaces as if they were numbers, and considering

geometry and arithmetic as sciences perfectly the same. But we have

fortunately the testimony of the first mathematicians among the moderns

against the unlawfulness of this ungeometrical invasion. And to begin

with the great sir Isaac Newton, in his Universal Arithmetic[29]:

“Equations (says he) are expressions of arithmetical computation, and

properly have no place in geometry, except so far as quantities truly

geometrical (that is, lines, surfaces, solids, and proportions), may

be said to be some equal to others. _Multiplications, divisions,

and such sort of computations, are newly received into geometry, and

that unwarily, and contrary to the first design of this science._

For whoever considers the construction of problems by a right-line and

a circle, found out by the first geometricians, will easily perceive

that geometry was invented that we might expeditiously avoid, by

drawing lines, the _tediousness of computation_. _Therefore,

these two sciences ought not to be confounded._ The ancients so

industriously distinguished them from one another, that they never

introduced arithmetical terms into geometry. _And the moderns, by

confounding both, have lost the simplicity in which all the elegancy

of geometry consists._” And in another part[30] of the same work he

observes, that “_the modern geometers are too fond of the speculation

of equations_.” To this very high authority we may add that of Dr.

Halley, in the preface to his translation of Apollonius de Sectione

Rationis; for which work he conceived so great an esteem, that he was

at the pains to learn Arabic in order to accomplish its translation

into Latin[31]: “This method, says he, (of Apollonius) contends with

specious algebra in facility, but far excels it in evidence and

elegance of demonstrations; as will be abundantly manifest if any one

compares this doctrine of Apollonius de Sectione Rationis, with the

algebraic analysis of the same problem, which the most illustrious

Wallis exhibits in the second volume of his mathematical works, cap.

liv. p. 220.” And in the conclusion of his preface, he observes[32],

“that it is one thing to give the resolution of a problem some how

or other, which may be accomplished by various ways, but another to

effect this by the most elegant method; by an analysis the shortest,

and at the same time perspicuous; by a synthesis elegant, and by

no means operose.” And Dr. Barrow, notwithstanding he was so great

an advocate for the identity of arithmetic and geometry, expressly

asserts[33], that _algebra is no science_. To these authorities

we may add Simson and Lawson, who, sensible of the superior skill

of the ancients, both in analysis and synthesis, have made laudable

attempts to restore the _Greek geometry_ to its pristine purity

and perfection.

Again, the greatest men of the present times have been of opinion, that

algebra was not unknown to the ancients; and if this be true, their

silence respecting it is a sufficient proof of their disapprobation.

Indeed, if we consider it when applied to geometry, as an art alone

subservient to the facility of practice, as conveying no evidence, and

possessing no elegance of demonstration, we shall not wonder at its

being unnoticed by the ancients, with whom practice was ever considered

as subservient to speculation; and in whose writings elegance of theory

and accuracy of reasoning are found perpetually united.

3. But the lives of the first cultivators of this science (I mean the

Egyptian priests) as well as of the Pythagoreans and Platonists, by

whom it afterwards received such improvements, sufficiently evince

that this science advanced to perfection from an intellectual theory

as its source, and from being referred to contemplation as its end;

and this will be evident, by attending to the following history of the

Egyptian priests, as preserved to us by Porphyry, in his excellent

work on abstinence[34]; a translation of which will not, I presume, be

unacceptable to the philosophical reader, “Chæremon, the Stoic (says

he) explaining the rites of the Egyptian priests, who, he says, are

accounted philosophers by the Egyptians, relates, that they choose a

place best adapted to the study and performance of sacred rites; so

that a desire of contemplation is excited by only frequenting those

recesses which are dedicated to their use, and which procure safety

to the priests, on account of that reverence of the divinity, whose

sacred mysteries they perform; so that all possible honour is paid to

these philosophers, in the same manner as to some sacred animals. But

he says they live entirely solitary, except at particular times, when

they mix with others in such assemblies as are usually held, and in

public feasts; and that on all other occasions they are scarcely to be

approached. For he who desires to converse with them must first purify

himself, and abstain from a multitude of things after the manner of

these Egyptian priests. He adds, that these men, renouncing every other

occupation, and all human affairs, give themselves entirety, through

the whole of life, to the contemplation of divine concerns, and to

enquiring into the divine will: by the latter of these employments

procuring to themselves honour, security, and the estimation of

piety; by contemplation, tracing out the latent paths of science; and

by both these occupations united, accustoming themselves to manners

truly occult, and _worthy of antiquity_. For to dwell always on

divine knowledge, and be disposed for divine inspiration, removes a

man beyond all immoderate desires, calms the passions of the soul, and

raises her intellectual eye to the perception of that which is real

and true. But they studied tenuity of aliment, and frugality in their

apparel, and cultivated temperance and patience, together with justice

and equity, in all their concerns. Indeed, a solitary life rendered

them perfectly venerable; for during that period which they call the

time of purification, they scarcely mixed with the associates of their

own order, or saw any one of them, except him who was conversant with

them in that exercise of purity, on account of necessary uses. But

they by no means concerned themselves with those who were unemployed

in the business of purification. The remaining part of their time they

conversed familiarly with those similar to themselves; but they lived

separate and apart from those who were estranged from their ceremonies

and manner of living. He adds, they are always seen employed among the

resemblances of the gods, either carrying their images, or preceding

them in their accustomed processions, and disposing them with gravity

of deportment, and in a graceful order. In all which operations

they did not indicate any pride of disposition; but exhibited some

particular natural reason. But their gravity was conspicuous from their

habit; for when they walked, their pace was equable, and their aspect

so perfectly steady, that they refrained from winking whenever they

pleased. Their risibility too, extended no farther than to a smile.

But their hands were always contained within their garments; and as

there were many orders of priests, every one carried about him some

remarkable symbol of the order he was allotted in sacred concerns.

Their sustenance too was slender and simple; and with respect to wine,

some of them entirely refrained from it; and others drank it very

sparingly, affirming that it hurt the nerves, was an impediment to the

invention of things, and an incentive to venereal desires. They also

abstained from many other things, never using bread in exercises of

purity; and if they ate it at other times, it was first cut in pieces,

and mingled with hyssop. But they abstained, for the most part, from

oil, and when they used it mixt with olives, it was only in small

quantities, and as much as was sufficient to mitigate the taste of the

herbs.

In the mean time, it was not lawful for any one to taste of the

aliment, whether solid or fluid, which was brought into Egypt from

foreign parts. They likewise abstained from the fish which Egypt

produced; and from all quadrupeds having solid or many fissured hoofs;

from such as were without horns; and from all carniverous birds: but

many of them abstained entirely from animal food. And at those times

when they all rendered themselves pure, they did not even eat an egg.

But when the time drew near in which they were to celebrate some sacred

rites, or festival, they employed many days in previous preparation,

some of them setting apart forty-two days, others a greater length

of time than this; and others again a shorter; but never less than

seven days; abstaining, during this period, from all animals, and

from all leguminous and oily nutriment, but especially from venereal

congress. Every day, they washed themselves three times in cold water;

after rising from bed, before dinner, and when they betook themselves

to rest. And if they happened to be polluted in their sleep, they

immediately purified their bodies in a bath. They made cold water

too subservient to the purposes of purification at other times, but

not so often as the bath. Their beds were composed from the branches

of palm, which they called βαίς, _bais_. A piece of wood, of a

semi-cylindrical form, and well planed, served them for a pillow.

But through the whole of life, they were exercised in the endurance

of hunger and thirst, and accustomed to a paucity and simplicity of

nutriment.

But as a testimony of their temperance, though they neither used the

exercise of walking nor riding, yet they lived free from disease, and

were moderately strong. For, indeed, they endured great labour in

their sacred ceremonies, and performed many services exceeding the

common strength of men. They divided the night between observations of

the celestial bodies, and offices of purity; but the day was destined

by them to the cultivation of the divinities, whom they worshiped

with hymns each day three or four times; in the morning and evening,

when the sun is at his meridian, and when he is setting. But the rest

of their time they were occupied in arithmetical and geometrical

speculations, always laborious and inventing, and continually employed

in the investigation of things. In winter nights also, they were

diligent in the same employments, and were ever vigilant to literary

studies; since they were not solicitous about external concerns,

and were freed from the base dominion of intemperate desires. Their

unwearied and assiduous labour, therefore, is an argument of their

great patience; and their continence is sufficiently indicated by their

privation of desire. Besides this, it was esteemed very impious to sail

from Egypt, as they were particularly careful in abstaining from the

manners and luxuries of foreign nations; so that to leave Egypt was

alone lawful to those who were compelled to it by state necessities.

But they discoursed much concerning a retention of their native

manners; and if any priest was judged to have transgressed the laws

in the least particular, he was expelled from the college. Besides,

the true method of philosophizing was preserved in Commentaries and

Diaries, by the prophets and ministers of sacred concerns: but the

remaining multitude of priests, _Pastophori_, or priests of Isis

and Osiris, governors of temples, and servants of the gods, studied

purity, yet not so exactly, nor with so great continence as those we

have mentioned. And thus much is related of the Egyptians, by a man who

is equally a lover of truth, and of accurate diligence, and who is

deeply skilled in the Stoic philosophy.”

4. But the lives of the Pythagoreans and Platonists, who carried this

divine science to its ultimate perfection, no less eminently evince

the truth of our position. For, as Porphyry informs us, in the same

invaluable treatise[35], “some of the ancient Pythagoreans, and wise

men, inhabited the most desert places; and others retired into temples,

from which the multitude and every tumult were expelled. But Plato was

willing to fix his academy in a place not only solitary, and remote

from the city, but, as they report, insalubrious. Others, again, have

not spared their eyes, through a desire of more perfectly enjoying that

blissful contemplation, from which they wished never to be separated.”

After this, he presents us with a description from Plato[36] of

those intellectual men, by whom the world has been enlightened with

the sublimest wisdom and truth: “For it was not falsly, or in vain

(says he), that a certain philosopher, speaking of contemplative men,

affirms, that such as these are ignorant, from their early youth,

of the way which leads to the forum, or in what place the court or

senate-house is situated, or any public council of the state. They

neither see nor hear the laws, whether decreed or promulgated, or

written; and with respect to the factions and contentions of their

companions for magistracy, for assemblies and splendid entertainments,

luxurious eating and minstrels, they do not even think of these as in a

dream. Such an one knows no more of the evil which has happened to some

one of his ancestors, whether male or female, or any thing belonging

to them, than how many pitchers of water are contained in the sea. Nor

does he abstain from things of this nature for the sake of acquiring

fame; but in reality, his body alone abides in the city, and wanders

about from place to place, but his intellect esteeming all these as

of small importance, or rather as non-entities, he despises them,

and, according to Pindar, “from these on every side he soars:” by no

means applying himself to things which are near him, and to sensible

concerns.”

If such then were the lives of the men who brought this contemplative

science to its present perfection, and who are to this day our masters

in geometry; if such were the exalted sentiments they entertained

of its dignity and worth, what greater proof can we require of its

being valuable for its own sake, and as subservient to the energies

of intellect? We have ample evidence too, of its being degraded

when brought down to the common purposes of life, in the example

of those who, with this view, have disguised it with the dark and

sordid involutions of algebraic calculation; for it was solely to

facilitate practice, that this barbarous invasion has been admitted by

the moderns. Let me then be permitted to persuade the few who study

geometry in its ancient purity, and who consider the ruins of Grecian

literature on this, as well as on every other science, the models

of perfection, to enter with avidity on the study of the ensuing

Commentaries, and endeavour to fathom the depth of our profound and

elegant philosopher: for by this means they may happily obtain the end

of all true science, the purification of the soul; and be able to draw

the light of perfect wisdom, from the undecaying and inexhaustible

fountain of good.

But if it should be asked in what these energies of intellect

consist, to which all science ultimately refers? I answer, in the

contemplation of true being, or those ideal and divine forms, with

which the intelligible world is replete. Now this great end is not

to be accomplished without previous discipline, a long exercise of

the reasoning power, and a continued series of philosophic endurance.

For this end, when attained, is no other than the enjoyment of that

felicity congenial to the soul previous to her immersion in body. But,

for the further information of the liberal reader on this important

subject, the following paraphrases from Porphyry and Proclus are

subjoined; the former instructing us in the various purifications

necessary to this end; and the latter exhibiting the gradations by

which we may rise to the speculation of reality, and (leaving all

_multitude_ behind) ascend to the divinely solitary principle of

things, the ineffable _One_.

5. “In the first place, then (says Porphyry[37]) my reasons are not

addressed to those who are occupied in illiberal arts, nor to those

engaged in corporeal exercises, neither to soldiers nor sailors,

neither to rhetoricians nor to those who have undertaken the duties of

an active life. But I write to the man continually employed in thinking

what he is, from whence he comes, and whither he ought to tend: and

who, with respect to every thing pertaining to food, and other offices

of life, is entirely changed from those who propose to themselves a

different manner of living; for to a man of this kind alone is my

present discourse addressed. Indeed, in this common state of existence,

one and the same mode of persuasion cannot be addressed to the sleeper,

who, if it was possible, would conciliate to himself perpetual sleep,

and who, for this purpose, seeks on every side for soporiferous

incentives, as to him who studies continually to drive away sleep,

and to dispose every thing about him to vigilance and intellectual

activity. But to the former, it is necessary to advise intoxication,

surfeiting, and satiety, and to recommend a dark house; and, as the

poets say, _a bed luxurious, broad, and soft_. Such a one should

chuse whatever tends to produce stupor, and give birth to indolence

and oblivion, whether consisting of odours, ointments, or medicaments

which are accustomed to be eat or drank. But it is necessary that the

intellectual man should use sober drink, unmixed with the lethargic

fumes of wine; nutriment slender, and almost approaching to fasting;

a lucid house, receiving a subtle air and wind; that he should be

continually agitated with cares and griefs; and lastly, that he

prepares for himself a small and hard bed, while thus employed in

purifying his soul from the stains contracted by corporeal involution.

But whether we are born for this exalted purpose, I mean for vigilant

intellectual energies, allowing as small a part of our life as possible

to sleep; (since we do not exist in a place where souls perpetually

vigilant abide), or whether we are destined to a contrary purpose,

I mean, to sleep and oblivion, would be foreign from our design to

explain; and would require a longer demonstration than the limits of

our work will admit.

But whoever once cautiously surmizes the delusions of our life in the

present world, and the inchantments of this material house in which we

are employed, and who perceives himself naturally adapted to vigilant

energies; lastly, who apprehends the soporiferous nature of the place

in which he acts, to such a one we would prescribe a diet congruous

to his suspicion of this fallacious abode, and to the knowledge he

possesses of himself; in the mean time, advising him to bid a long

farewel to the sleeper, stretched on his couch, as on the lap of

oblivion. Nevertheless, we should be careful lest, as those who behold

the bleer-eyed, contract a similar defect, and as we gape when present

with those who are gaping, so we should be filled with drowsiness

and sleep, when the place in which we reside is cold, and adapted to

fill the eyes with watery humours, from its abounding with marshes and

vapours, which incline their inhabitants to heaviness and sleep. If

then, legislators had composed the laws with a view to the utility of

the state, and had referred these to a contemplative and intellectual

life as their end, we ought to submit to their institutions, and

acquiesce in the diet they have prescribed for our subsistence. But if

they, only regarding that life which is according to nature, and is

called of the middle kind, ordain such things as the vulgar admit, who

only estimate good and evil as they respect the body, why should any

one, adducing these laws, weary himself in endeavouring to subvert a

life which is far more excellent than every law written and composed

for the sake of the vulgar, and which follows a law not written, but

divinely delivered? For such is the truth of the case.

_That_ contemplation which procures us felicity, is not a mass

of discourses, and a multitude of disciplines; or, as some may

think, consisting from hence; nor does it receive any increase from

a quantity of words. For if this was the case, nothing could hinder

those from being happy, who comprehend all disciplines, and _are

accurately skilled in a variety of languages_. But the whole

circle of the sciences cannot by any means accomplish this blissful

contemplation, nor even those disciplines which are conversant with

true and substantial being, unless there is also a conformation of

our nature and life to this divine end. For since there are, as they

say, three ends of living, if we regard the particular objects to

which mankind tend, the end with us is to follow the contemplation of

_true being_, promoting, as much as possible, by an acquisition

of this kind, an intimate union of the contemplating individual with

the object of contemplation. For, in nothing else besides _true

being_, is it possible for the soul to return to its pristine

felicity; nor can this be effected by any other conjunction. But

intellect is _true being itself_: so that the proper end is to

live according to intellect. And on this account, exoteric discourses

and disciplines, retarding the purgation of the soul, are far from

filling up the measure of our felicity. If then, felicity was defined

by the comprehension of words or sciences, they who do not pay a proper

attention to the kind and quantity of their food, nor to any thing

else pertaining to their present existence, might obtain this end: but

since it is requisite to change our life, and to be pure both in speech

and action, let us consider what discourses and what works may render

us partakers of this most necessary means of acquiring substantial

felicity.

Are, then, those things which separate us from sensible objects,

and from the affections which they excite, and which lead to a life

intellectual, and void of imagination and passion, are these the

means we are in pursuit of? So that every thing contrary is foreign

from our purpose, and worthy to be rejected? And in such proportion

as it draws us aside from intellect? Indeed, I think it is consonant

to truth, that we should eagerly contend where intellect leads; for

in this material abode, we are similar to those who enter or depart

from a foreign region, not only in casting aside our native manners

and customs, but from the long use of a strange country, we are imbued

with affections, manners, and laws foreign from our natural and true

region, and with a strong propensity to these unnatural habits. Such

an one, therefore, should not only think earnestly of the way, however

long and laborious, by which he may return to his own, but that he may

meet with a more favourable reception from his proper kindred, should

also meditate by what means he may divest himself of every thing alien

from his true country, which he has contracted; and in what manner he

may best recal to his memory, those habits and dispositions without

which he cannot be admitted by his own, and which, from long disuse,

have departed from his soul. In like manner, it is requisite, if we

wish to return to such things as are truly our own, and proper to man

considered as a rational soul, to lay aside whatever we have associated

to ourselves from a mortal nature, together with all that propensity

to material connections, by which the soul is allured, and descends

into the obscure regions of sense; but to be mindful of that blessed

and eternal essence intellect, our true father, and hastening our

return to the contemplation of the uncoloured light of _good_, to

take especial care of these two things; one, that we divest ourselves

(as of foreign garments) of every thing mortal and material; the

other how we may return with safety, since thus, ascending to our

native land, we are different from ourselves before we descended into

mortality. For we were formerly intellectual natures; and even now we

are essences purified from every stain contracted by sense, and from

that part which is destitute of reason: but we are complicated with

sensible connections, on account of our impotence and infirmity, which

is the cause that we cannot always be conversant with intellectual

concerns; but with mundane affairs we can be present with frequency

and ease; for all our energetic powers are stupified and clouded

with oblivion, through body and sense; the soul not remaining in an

intellectual state; (as the earth when badly affected, though good

fruit is deposited in its bosom, produces nothing but weeds); and this,

through the improbity of the soul, which does not, indeed, destroy

its essence, while it acquires brutality; but by such an accession it

becomes complicated with a perishing nature, is bound in the dark folds

of matter, and is drawn aside from its proper state, into one that is

foreign and base.

So that it is highly requisite to study, if we are solicitous of

returning to our pristine state of felicity, how to depart from sense

and imagination, and her attendant brutality, and from those passions

which are raised by her phantastic eye, as much as the necessity of our

nature will permit. For the intellect must be accurately composed; and

it is proper it should obtain a peace and tranquility free from the

contentions of that part which is destitute of reason, that we may not

only hear with attention concerning intellect and intelligible objects,

but to the utmost of our ability, may enjoy their contemplation; and

thus, being reduced into an incorporeal nature, may truly lead an

intellectual life, and not in a false delusive manner, like these

who are at the same time entangled with corporeal concerns. We must,

therefore, divest ourselves of the various garments of mortality by

which our vigour is impeded; as well this visible and fleshly garment,

as that more interior one with which we are invested contiguous to

the skin. We must enter the place of contest naked, and without the

incumbrance of dress, striving for the most glorious of all prizes, the

Olympiad of the soul. But the first requisite, and without which it is

not lawful to contend, is, that we strip off our garments. And since

our vestments are some of them exterior, and some interior, so with

respect to the denudation of the soul, one process is by things more

open, another by such as are more occult. For instance, not to eat, or

not to accept what is offered, is among things obvious and open; but

not to desire is more obscure; so that it is here requisite not only

to abstain from things improper in deeds, but likewise in desire. For

what does it profit to abstain in actions from what is base, in the

mean time adhering to the causes which produce such actions, as if

bound in indissoluble chains?

But this receding from material affections is brought about partly

by force, and partly by persuasion; and by the assistance of reason

the affections languish, and are, as it were, buried in oblivion, or

in a certain philosophical death; which is, indeed, the best mode

of desertion, without oppressing the terrene bandage from which the

soul departs. For in things which are the objects of sense, a violent

devulsion cannot take place without either a laceration of some part,

or at least a vestige of separation. But vice steals in upon the

soul through continual negligence: and carelessness is produced by

not sufficiently attending to intelligible objects; the affections

in the mean time being excited by the drowsy perceptions of sense,

among which must be also reckoned the sensations arising from food.

We must therefore abstain, not less than from other things, from such

food as usually excites the passions of our soul. Let us then in this

particular enquire a little farther.

There are two fountains, whose noxious streams detain the soul in

matter, and with which, as if saturated with lethargic potions, she

forgets her own proper speculations: I mean pleasure and grief, the

artificer of which is sense and its perceptions, together with the

operations attendant on the senses, imaginations, opinions, and memory.

The passions, roused by the energies of these, and the irrational part,

now fattened with noxious nutriment, draw down the soul, and avert

her inclinations from her native love of true being. It is requisite,

therefore, that we revolt from these to the utmost of our ability.

But true defections can alone take place by avoiding the passions and

rash motions produced by the senses. But, sensation respects whatever

moves the sight, or the hearing, or the taste, or the smell. And sense

is, as it were, the metropolis of that foreign colony of passions which

reside in the soul, and which must be expelled by him who wishes, while

connected with body, to become an inhabitant of the royal regions of

intellect. Let us then enquire how much fuel of the passions enters

into us through each of the senses; and this either when we behold the

spectacles of horses in the race, and the labours of the athletic, or

the contests of those who twist and bend their bodies in leaping, or

when we survey beautiful women. For all these insnare us, unconscious

of the danger, and subject to their dominion the irrational appetite,

by proffered inchantments of every kind.

For by all such inchantments the soul, as if driven into fury, compels

the compound man to leap rashly, and without reason, and full of the

brutal nature to bellow and exclaim. In the mean time, the perturbation

appearing from without, being inflamed by the internal, which was

first of all roused by sense. But the vehement motions excited by the

hearing, arise from certain noises and sounds, from base discourse,

and mixed assemblies; so that some, exiled from reason, behave as if

struck mad; and others, enervated by effeminate softness, agitate

themselves by a multitude of trifling gesticulations. And who is

ignorant how much the soul is fattened, and infested with material

grossness, by the ointments and perfumes which commend lovers to each

other? But why is it necessary to speak of the passions originating

from the taste: in this respect especially, binding the soul in a

double band; one of which is thickened by the passions excited by the

taste; the other becomes strong and powerful by the different bodies

which we receive in food. For as a certain physician observed, those

are not the only poisons which are prepared by the medical art, but

such things as we daily receive for food, as well liquid as solid, are

to be reckoned among this number; and much greater danger arises to

our life from these, than to our bodies from poisons. But the touch

does all but transmute the soul into body, and excites in it, as in a

dissonant body, certain broken and enervated sounds. The remembrance,

imagination, and cogitation of all these raise a collected swarm of

passions, i. e. of fear, desire, anger, love, emulation, cares, and

griefs, they fill the soul with perturbations of this kind, cloud its

intellectual eye with oblivion, and bury its divine light in material

darkness.

On which account it is a great undertaking to be purified from all this

rout of pollutions; and to bestow much labour in meditating day and

night, what measures we shall adopt to be freed from these bonds, and

this because we are complicated with sense, from a certain necessity.

From whence, as much as our ability will permit, we ought to recede

from those places in which we may (perhaps unwillingly), meet with

this hostile rout; and it is requisite we should be solicitous not to

engage in combat with these dangerous foes, lest, through too great a

confidence of victory and success, instead of vigorous contention, we

produce only unskilfulness and indolence.”

And in the conclusion of the first book, he adds, “For, indeed, if

it be lawful to speak freely, and without fear, we can by no other

means obtain the true end of a contemplative, intellectual life, but

by adhering to the Deity (if I may be allowed the expression), as if

fastened by a nail, at the same time being torn away and separated

from body and corporeal delights; having procured safety from our

deeds, and not from the mere attention to words. But if friendship

is not to be conciliated with a divinity, who is only the governor

of some particular region, with any kind of food, or by the use of

animal nutriment, much less can a gross diet effect an union with

that God who is exalted above all things, and who is superior to a

nature simply incorporeal; but after every mode of purgation, and the

greatest chastity of body, and purity of soul, we shall scarcely be

thought worthy to obtain the vision of his ineffable beauty; though

this is sometimes permitted to him whose soul is well disposed, and

who has passed through life with the greatest sanctity and purity of

manners. So that, by how much the Father of all exceeds every nature

in simplicity, purity, and self-sufficiency, as being infinitely

remote from all suspicion of material contagion, by so much the more

ought he who approaches to the Deity, to be entirely pure and holy,

first in his body, and afterwards in the most secret recesses of his

soul; having distributed a purgation adapted to every part, and being

completely invested with purity, as with a transparent garment, fit

for the intimate reception of divine illumination.” Thus far Porphyry,

whose excellent sentiments on this subject are a lasting monument of

the elevation and purity of soul which the Platonic philosophy affords;

and at the same time sufficiently prove the arrogance and ignorance of

those who depreciate the wisdom of the ancients, and consider their

greatest philosophers as involved in mental darkness and delusion.

But presumption of this kind is continually increased by indolence,

and strengthened by interest; and it is common to find _scribblers

of every kind_, laughing at Plato and his philosophy, who are too

mean for criticism, and even too insignificant for contempt. Let us,

therefore, leave such in their native inanity, and listen to the

instructions of the divinely elegant Proclus, by which we may ascend to

the contemplation of true being, and the ineffable principle of things.

6. [38]“Pythagoras and Plato command us to fly from the multitude,

that we may pursue the most simple truth, and apply ourselves wholly

to the contemplation of real being. From the multitude of exterior

people drawing us aside in various ways, and deceiving us by fallacious

appearances. But much more to shun the multitude of interior people;

for this much more distracts and deceives. We must, therefore, fly from

the various multitude of affections, the obscure informations of sense,

the shadowy objects of imagination, and the dusky light of opinion. For

every multitude of this kind is so different in itself, that its parts

are contrary to one another; from whence it is necessary to betake

ourselves to the sciences, in which multitude has no contrariety.

For though affections are contrary to affections, one perception

of sense to another, imaginations to imaginations, and opinions to

opinions, yet no one science is found contrary to another. In this

multitude, therefore, of propositions and notions, we may collect

into one the number of sciences binding them in one according bond.

For they are so remote from contrariety to each other, that notion is

subservient to notion, and inferior sciences minister to superior,

depending on them for their origin. Above all, it is here necessary,

from many sciences which pre-suppose one, to betake ourselves to one

science itself, no longer supposing another, and in an orderly series

to refer them all to this original one. But after science, and its

study, it will be necessary to lay aside compositions, divisions, and

multiform discourses, and from thence to ascend to intellectual life,

to its simple vision, and intimate perception. For science is not the

summit of knowledge, but beyond it is intellect; not that intellect

only which is separated from soul, but the illustration infused from

thence into the soul, which Aristotle affirms to be the intellect by

which we acknowledge the principles of science; and Timæus says, that

this exists in no place but the soul. Ascending, therefore, to this

intellect, we must contemplate together with it intelligible essence,

by indivisible and simple perceptions, speculating the simple genera

of beings. But after venerable intellect itself, it will be proper to

contemplate that summit of the soul, by which we are one, and under

whose influence our multitude is united. For as by our intellect

we touch the divine intellect; so by our unity, and as it were the

_flower_ of our essence, it will be lawful to touch that first

one, from whom all subordinate unities proceed. And by this our

_one_, we are especially conjoined with divinity. For similitude

may be every where comprehended by that which is similar; the objects

of knowledge by science; things intelligible by intellect; and the most

unifying measures of being, by the unity of the soul. But this unity

and its energy is the summit of our actions; for by this we become

divine, when, flying from all multitude, we retire into the depths of

our unity, and, being collected into one, uniformly energize. Thus far

we admonish to shun the multitude, by steps proceeding from the order

of knowledge: in the next place, we shall proceed in the same design

by the series of knowable objects. Fly then every sensible species,

for they are heaped together, are divisible, and perfectly mutable,

and incapable of affording sincere and genuine knowledge. From these

dark informations, therefore, betake yourself to incorporeal essence;

since every sensible object possesses adventitious unity, is by itself

scattered and confused, and full of formless infinity. Hence its good

is divisible, and adventitious, distant and separated from itself, and

residing in a foreign seat. When you have ascended thither, and are

placed among incorporeal beings, you will behold above the fluctuating

empire of bodies, the sublime animal order, self-moving, spontaneously

energizing in itself, and from itself possessing its own essence, yet

multiplied, and anticipating in itself a certain apparition or image

of the essence divisible about the unstable order of bodies. You will

there perceive many habitudes of reasons, various proportions, and

according bonds. Likewise the whole and parts, vivid circles, and

a multiform variety of powers; together with a perfection of souls

not-eternal, not subsisting, together as a whole, but, unfolded by

time, gradually departing from their integrity, and conversant with

continual circulations. For such is the nature of the soul.

But after the multitude belonging to souls, betake yourself to

intellect, and the intellectual kingdoms, that you may possess the

unity of things. There remain in contemplation of a nature ever abiding

in eternity, of life ever flourishing, intelligence ever vigilant, to

which no perfection of being is wanting, and which does not desire

the chariot of time, for the full energy of its essence. When you

have beheld natures of this exalted kind, and have seen by how great

an interval they are superior to souls; in the next place enquire

whether any multitude is there, and if intellect, since it is one, is

also universal; and again, since it is uniform, if not also multiform:

for you will find it subsists after this manner. When, therefore, you

have intimately beheld this intellectual multitude, though profoundly

indivisible and united, transport yourself again to another principle,

and having considered, as in a more exalted rank, the _unities_

of intellectual essences, in the last place proceed to unity perfectly

separate and free from all things. And when advanced thus far, lay

aside all multitude, and you will at length arrive at the ineffable

fountain of _good_. And since it appears, from these various

gradations, that the soul then properly obtains perfection, when she

flies from all external and internal multitude, and the boundless

variety of the universe, we may likewise conclude from hence, that

our souls do not alone collect their knowledge from the obscure

objects of sense, nor from things particular and divisible discover a

perfect whole, and a perfect one, but draw forth science from their

inmost recesses, and produce accuracy and perfection from whatever

in appearances is inaccurate and imperfect. For it is not proper to

suppose that things false and obscure, should be the principal sources

of knowledge to the soul; and that things discordant among themselves,

which require the reasonings and arguments of the soul, and which are

ambiguous and confused, should precede science which is immutable; nor

that things variously changed, should generate reasons abiding in one;

nor that indeterminate beings should exist as the causes of determinate

intelligence. It is not, therefore, fit to receive the truth of

eternal entities from boundless multitude; nor from sensible objects

the judgment of universals; nor from things destitute of reason,

accurate discrimination of that which is good: but it is proper that

the soul, retiring into her immortal essence, should there scrutinize

the _good_ and the _true_, and the immutable reasons of all

things: for the essence of the soul is full of these, though they are

clouded by oblivion. The soul, therefore, beholding exteriors, enquires

after truth, in the mean time possessing it in the depths of her

essence, and deserting herself, explores the good in the dark regions

of matter. Hence, every one in the pursuit of reality ought to begin

with the knowledge of himself. For, if we constantly extend our views

among the multitude of men, we shall never discern the one species man,

obscured by the multitude, and distracted by the division and discord,

and the various mutations of those who participate the species. But

if we turn our eye inwards, there, remote from perturbation, we shall

behold one reason and nature of men; since multitude is an impediment

to the conversion of the soul into herself. For here variety darkens

unity, difference obscures identity, and dissimilitude clouds

similitude; since species are confused in the folds of matter; and

every where that which is excellent is mixed with the base.” Thus far

Proclus; and thus much for our intended Dissertation.

LIFE

AND

COMMENTARIES

OF

PROCLUS.

THE

LIFE OF PROCLUS,

BY MARINUS[39];

OR,

CONCERNING FELICITY.

When I consider the magnitude of mind, and dignity of character

belonging to Proclus, a philosopher of our time, and attend to those

requisites, and that power of composition which those ought to possess

who undertake a description of his life; and lastly, when I regard

my own poverty of diction, I am inclined to believe it more proper

to refrain from such an undertaking, not to leap over the fosse

(according to the proverb), and to decline a discourse involved in so

much difficulty and danger. But my scruples are something diminished

when I consider, on the other hand, that even in temples, those who

approach to the altars do not all sacrifice alike; but that some are

solicitously employed in preparing bulls, goats, and other things of a

similar kind, as not unworthy the beneficence of the Gods to whom those

altars belong: likewise that they compose hymns, some of which are more

elegant in verse, but others in prose; while some, who are destitute

of all such gifts, and sacrifice with nothing more perhaps than a cake

and a small quantity of bread, with frankincense, and who finish their

invocations with a short address to the particular divinity they adore,

are not less heard than others. While I thus think with myself, I am

afraid, according to Ibycus[40], lest I should not offend against the

Gods (for these are his words) but against a wise man, and thus obtain

the praise of men.

For I do not think it lawful, that I who was one of his familiars,

should be silent concerning his life; and should not, according to my

utmost ability, relate such particulars concerning him as are true, and

which perhaps ought to be published in preference to others. And indeed

by such a neglect I shall not perhaps obtain the esteem and honour

of mankind, who will not entirely ascribe my conduct to the desire

of avoiding ostentation, but will suppose I avoided such a design

from indolence, or some, more dreadful disease of the soul. Incited,

therefore, by all these considerations, I have taken upon me to relate

some illustrious particulars of this philosopher, since they are almost

infinite, and may be depended on for their undoubted reality.

I shall begin therefore not according to the usual manner of writers,

who are accustomed to distribute their discourse into chapters; but

I consider that the felicity of this blessed man ought, with the

greatest propriety, to be placed as the foundation of this treatise.

For I regard him as the most happy of those men who were celebrated

in former ages; I do not say happy only from the felicity of wisdom,

though he possessed this in the highest degree of all men; nor because

he abundantly enjoyed the goods of an animal life; nor again on account

of his fortune, though this belonged to him in a most eminent degree,

for he was supplied with a great abundance of all such things as are

called external goods: but I call him happy, because his felicity

was perfect, complete in all parts, and composed from each of the

preceding particulars. Having then in the first place distributed[41]

virtues according to their kinds into natural, moral, and political,

and also into those of a sublimer rank, which are wholly conversant

with purification and contemplation, and are therefore called Cathartic

and Theoretic, and also such as are denominated Theurgic, by which we

acquire a similitude with some particular divinity; but omitting such

as are superior to these, as beyond the reach of man, we shall begin

from such as are more natural, and which are first in the progressions

of the human soul, though not first in the nature of things.

This blessed man, then, whose praise is the subject of this treatise,

naturally possessed, from the hour of his birth, all those physical

virtues which fall to the lot of mankind; the traces of which were

manifest in the latest period of his life, and appeared to surround and

invest his body after the manner of a tenacious shell. In the first

place, he was endued with a singular perfection of sensation, which

they denominate corporeal prudence; and this was particularly evident

in the nobler senses of seeing and hearing, which are indeed given by

the gods to men for the purpose of philosophizing, and for the greater

convenience of the animal life; and which remained entire to this

divine man through the whole of his life. Secondly, he possessed a

strength of body which was not affected by cold, and which was neither

weakened nor disturbed by any vicious or negligent diet, nor by any

endurance of labours, though it was exhausted day and night, while he

was employed in prayer, in perusing the works of others, in writing

books himself, and in conversing with his familiars; all which he

performed with such expedition, that he appeared to study but one thing

alone. But a power of this kind may with propriety be called fortitude

of body, from the singular strength employed in such exertions. The

third corporeal virtue with which he was endued was beauty, which, when

compared with temperance, the authors of these appellations have very

properly considered as possessing a similitude of nature. For as we

consider temperance as consisting in a certain symphony and consent of

the powers of the soul, so corporeal beauty is understood to consist

in a certain agreement of the organical parts. He was indeed of a most

pleasing aspect, not only because he was endued with this excellent

proportion of body, but because the flourishing condition of his soul

beamed through his corporeal frame like a living light, with splendors

too wonderful for language to explain. And indeed he was so beautiful

that no painter could accurately describe his resemblance; and all the

pictures of him which were circulated, although very beautiful, were

far short of the true beauty of the original. But the fourth corporeal

virtue which he possessed was health, which they affirm corresponds

to justice in the soul; and that this is a certain justice in the

disposition of the corporeal parts, as the other in those of the soul.

For justice is nothing more than a certain habit, containing the parts

of the soul in their proper duty. Hence, that is called health by

physicians, which conciliates the jarring elements of the body into

union and consent; and which Proclus possessed in such perfection, that

he affirmed he was not ill above twice or thrice, in the course of so

long a life as seventy-five years. But a sufficient proof of this is

evident from hence, that, in his last illness, he was entirely ignorant

what the disorders were which invaded his body, on account of the great

rarity of their incursions.

Such then were the corporeal goods which Proclus possessed, and which

may be called the forerunners, and as it were messengers, of those

forms into which we have distributed perfect virtue. But the first

powers and progeny of his soul, which he naturally possessed, previous

to instruction, and those parts of virtue with which he was adorned,

and which Plato reckons the elements of a philosophic nature[42], must

excite the wonder of any one who considers their excellent quality. For

he was remarkable for his memory and ingenuity; he was of a disposition

magnificent, gentle, and friendly; and a companion, as it were, of

truth, justice, fortitude and temperance; and his love of truth was

so great, that he never admitted any prudent dissimulation, but hated

falsehood vehemently. Indeed it is necessary that he who prosecutes

truth, with so much earnestness and sincerity, should be extremely

desirous of it from his infancy, since truth is the source of every

good, both to gods and men. But that he despised corporeal pleasures,

and was an eminent lover of temperance, is sufficiently evident from

his great propensity to disciplines, and his desire of every kind

of studies; for dispositions of this kind never suffer beastly and

illiberal pleasure to dwell it the mind, but are able to excite in the

soul, from her own internal operations, sincere pleasure and delight.

But it is impossible to say how foreign he was from avarice, so that

when a boy he despised the wealth of his parents, though very rich, on

account of his incredible love towards philosophy. Hence he was far

removed from illiberality, and from the care of lesser concerns, as he

was most studious of the universe, and of every thing divine and human.

But from such a disposition of the rational soul, having acquired true

magnanimity, he considered human life as of no account, and, unlike the

multitude, viewed nothing dreadful in death. So that he by no means

feared all that rout of molestations which appear terrible to others,

and this in consequence of that natural affection which it is proper to

call by no other name than that of Fortitude alone. But, from all these

virtues, I think it must be evident to those who have not experienced

his best of dispositions, that he loved equity from a boy; that he was

just and mild, and by no means difficult or unjust in his associations

or contracts. To us indeed he certainly appeared modest and elegant,

neither avaritious nor illiberal, neither arrogant nor timid.

But will it not be superfluous to mention the goodness and fertility of

his ingenuity? Especially among those who know and who have heard, that

he was full of the most beautiful disciplines, and who are acquainted

with the multitude he produced and published to the world, so that

he alone seemed to have drank nothing of the cup of oblivion, as he

was endued with a power of memory which was never disturbed, and that

which belongs to the oblivious, never happened to him. Besides, he

never neglected fresh acquisitions, as if possessing a sufficiency of

disciplines; and as one who is merely delighted with their study. But

he was most remote from a nature rustic and horrid, and averse from the

Muses, and particularly propense to more cultivated endowments: for on

account of his singular urbanity and festivity (without transgressing

the bounds of true honesty) in his common associations, sacred feasts,

and other actions, he allured and charmed his familiars, and always

dismissed them more cheerful and pleased.

His mother, therefore, Marcella, lawfully united to his father

Patricius, both of the Lycian nation, and excelling in birth and

virtue, produced our philosopher, thus endued from the beginning with

all these, and other gifts of nature. And[43] Minerva, the tutelar

goddess of Byzantium, received him when born, and took care of him as a

midwife, she being the cause of his birth in that city: but afterwards

she provided for his well-being, when he was numbered among boys and

young men; for she appeared once to him in a dream, and exhorted him

to the study of philosophy, from whence arose his great propensity

to this goddess, as he particularly performed her sacred rites, and

cultivated with a greater fury (as I may say) her institutions. Lastly,

his parents brought him, when born, into their native country Zanthus,

consecrated to Apollo: and I cannot but think that this country

happened to him by a certain divine providence; as it was requisite

that he, who was to be the prince of all sciences, should be educated

under the presiding deity of the Muses. Here, being instituted in the

most elegant manners, he pursued moral virtues, and was accustomed

to right conduct, and to a declination of its contrary, that which

is base.

But at that time the love of the gods, who had attended him from his

nativity, manifestly appeared; for being once detained by some disease

of body, and it appearing very difficult, and scarcely possible to

cure him, there stood at his bed a youth of a more than ordinary

appearance, so that even previous to the declaration of his name,

he might be considered as[44] Telesphorus or Apollo: but the god

proclaiming who he was, and pronouncing his name, touched the head of

Proclus (for he stood reclining his head on Proclus’ pillow) and having

immediately restored him to health, vanished from his sight. And such

was the[45] divine vision, and the divine benevolence at that time

exhibited to our youth.

But having, for a short space of time, in Lycia, applied himself

to grammar, he went to Alexandria in Egypt, bringing with him very

singular moral virtues, by which he excited towards himself the love

of the masters resident in that place. Hence Leonas the rhetorician,

who derived (as I think) his lineage from Isaurus, and was illustrious

among many of that profession, who were then at Alexandria, not only

made him a partaker of his studies, but thought him worthy to become

his domestic, and ordered that he should be supplied with food,

together with his wife and children, no otherwise than if he had been

his[46] true son. He likewise took care to procure him the notice of

the principal men in Egypt, who being wonderfully delighted with the

acumen of the youth’s ingenuity, and with the elegance and integrity

of his morals, reckoned him among their greatest friends. But he was

also instructed by Orion the grammarian, whose ancestors discharged

the sacerdotal office among the Egyptians, and who had made such a

progress in the knowledge of his art, that he composed elaborate books

on this subject, which he left not without advantage to posterity. He

also went to the schools of the Roman preceptors, and made a great

progress in that language; for he was at first led to the study of his

father’s profession, in which he was illustrious, his employment being

the study of law in the royal city. But when it appeared how vehemently

the young man was delighted with the study of rhetoric, as he had not

yet touched the writings of the philosophers, he both acquired great

glory from his acquisitions, and became the admiration of his fellow

pupils and masters, on account of the elegance of his discourse, and

his celerity in perceiving; and from his exhibiting more the habit and

industry of the master, than that of the scholar.

But while he yet frequented the rhetorical school, the sophist

Leonas, made him the companion of his journey to Byzantium: which he

undertook for the purpose of gratifying his friend Theodorus, who was

at that time præfect of Alexandria, and who was a man both polite and

magnificent, and a lover of philosophy. But Proclus, though a youth,

followed his master more cheerfully in this journey, lest he should

be compelled to interrupt his studies. However, that I may speak

more truly, a certain good fortune brought him back to the source of

his nativity. For, on his return, his tutelar goddess exhorted him

to philosophy, and to visit the Athenian schools. But having first

returned to Alexandria, and bid farewel to rhetoric, and the other arts

which he had formerly studied, he gave himself up to the discourses of

the philosophers then resident at Alexandria. But he frequented[47]

Olympiodorus, the most illustrious of philosophers, for the sake of

imbibing the doctrine of Aristotle; and in mathematical disciplines

gave himself to Hero[48], a religious man, and one who was eminently

skilful in the proper methods of institution. But these men were so

delighted with the manners of the youth, that Olympiodorus wished

him to espouse his daughter, whom he had taken care to instruct in

philosophy, and Hero committed to him all his religion, and made

him his constant companion. But having, on a certain time, heard

Olympiodorus, a man who was endued with a great power of speaking,

and on account of the celerity of his speech, and the gravity of

his subjects, was understood by very few of his auditors, as he was

departing with the dismissed multitude, he repeated to his companions

all that was said, and almost verbatim, though the discourse was

copious; as Ulpianus Gazæus, one of his fellow-disciples informed

me, who also consumed not the least part of his life in the study of

philosophy. But he likewise learned, with great facility, the writings

of Aristotle, pertaining to rational philosophy[49], though the bare

reading of them is difficult to those who are engaged in the attempt.

Having therefore, at Alexandria, applied himself to these masters,

and enjoyed their confidence in such instruction as they were able to

afford, when upon reading together with them a certain author, they

appeared to him not to interpret the mind of the philosopher as they

ought; conceiving a contempt for these schools, and at the same time

being mindful of the exhortation which had been divinely sent to him

at Byzantium, he went to Athens, attended by the presiding deities of

eloquence and philosophy, and by beneficent dæmons. For that he might

preserve the genuine and entire succession[50] of Plato, he was brought

by the gods to the guardian city of philosophy, as the circumstances

which happened on his first entrance into the city, and all the divine

excitations manifestly evince: for they openly presaged, that this

gift was sent from the father Apollo, and was a future suffrage of his

succession confirmed by divine events. For when his vessel drove to

the Pyræum, and it was told to the citizens, Nicolaus, who afterwards

flourished in the rhetorical art, but at that time studied under the

masters of Athens, descended to the shore as if to an acquaintance,

received him for his guest as if he had been a citizen, and brought

him to the city; for Nicolaus was also a Lycian. But Proclus, who

perceived himself weary from his journey, sat down at the temple of

Socrates, though he did not yet know, nor had heard that Socrates was

worshipped in that place, and requested Nicolaus that he would stay

there for a short time, and, if possible, procure him some water,

as he said that he was exceeding thirsty. Immediately Nicolaus,

from that very consecrated place, brought him some water; for the

fountain belonging to the statue of Socrates was not far distant. But

while he was drinking, Nicolaus, for the first time, considering the

circumstance: This is an omen, says he, because you have sate in the

temple of Socrates, and have there first drank the Attic water. Then

Proclus rising, and having paid due reverence to the place, proceeded

to the city. But when he came to the tower, the porter who was present

at his entrance, and was about to close the gates with bars, said to

him, (that I may repeat the words of the man,) “Certainly unless you

had come, I should have closed the gates.” And what omen could be more

manifest, or could less require the interpretations of[51] Polletes or

Melampodes, or such like diviners?

But Proclus, despising the schools of the rhetoricians, though they

very much desired his association, as if he had come for that very

purpose, met with the prince of philosophers Syrianus[52], the son of

Philoxenus. At that time too, Lachares was in the same company, a man

much conversant in philosophy, and the companion of Syrianus in his

study, but in eloquence he was in as great admiration as Homer in the

poetic art. He then was, as I have said, present at the same time. But

it was now the evening twilight, and while they were engaged in mutual

converse, the sun sate, and the moon made her first appearance after

her change: wherefore, having saluted the stranger, they endeavoured to

dismiss him, as being a young man, from their company, that they might

adore the goddess apart. But he not having proceeded far, beheld also

the moon appearing from the same house, and laying aside his sandals,

in their presence saluted the goddess. Here Lachares, admiring the

confidence of the youth, said, speaking to Syrianus, “This is what

Plato[53] divinely affirms of great geniuses; that they either produce

great good, or its contrary.” And such, that I may mention a few out

of many, were the signatures of divine original, which happened to our

philosopher, on his first arrival at Athens.

But Syrianus brought him to the great Plutarch[54], the son of Nestor,

who, when he saw the young man, not yet twenty years old, and heard

of his love and desire of a philosophic life, he was much delighted,

and immediately made him a partaker of his philosophic study, though

his age almost forbade such an attempt; for he was then very old. He

therefore read to Proclus his commentary on Aristotle’s books on the

soul, and on the Phædo of Plato: and this great man exhorted him to

commit to writing what he heard, employing the ambition of the youth

as an instrument, by telling him, that if he completed those scholia,

they would be reported as the commentaries of Proclus. And as he

loved the youth very much on account of his inclination to the best

studies, he called him his son, and caused him to reside with him as a

domestic. But after he saw his temperance, with regard to animal food,

he exhorted him not to abstain from animals entirely, but to use them

so far as was necessary to the vital energies of the corporeal part. He

likewise gave the same advice to Syrianus, concerning the youth’s diet.

But he answered the old man, as that divine head (Proclus) informed

us: “Suffer him with that frugality to learn what I wish, and then, if

he pleases, he may die.” Such was the care of his masters respecting

him, in every concern. But the old man lived about two years after the

arrival of Proclus; and dying, commended the youth to his successor

Syrianus, as also his grandson Archiadas. But Syrianus, when he had

received Proclus as his pupil, not only much assisted him in learning,

but made him his domestic as to other concerns, and the companion of

his philosophic life, having found him such an auditor and successor

as he had for a long time sought for; and one who was adapted for the

reception of a multitude of disciplines, and divine dogmata.

In a shorter space, therefore, than two years, he read, together

with Syrianus, all the works of Aristotle, i. e. his logic, ethics,

politics, physics, and theological science. But being sufficiently

instructed in these, as in certain[55] proteleia, and small mysteries,

Syrianus led him to the sacred discipline of Plato, and this by an

orderly progression, and not[56] according to the oracle, with a

transcendent foot. And he was careful that he might survey with him

true mysteries, with the eyes of his soul, free from material darkness,

and with a speculation of intellect refined and pure. Hence Proclus

was employed night and day in vigilant energies, and in writing

compendiously what he had heard, employing his own judgment in the

selection and order. And in consequence of this unwearied assiduity,

he made so great a progress in a short time, that by then he was

twenty-eight years of age, he composed a multitude of works; and among

the rest his very learned and elegant commentaries on the Timæus. But

from an institution of this kind, his manners also received a greater

ornament, since as he advanced in science he accumulated virtue.

In the original κατὰ τὸ λόγιον, which I wonder Fabricius should

translate, _quod aiunt_, as it is usual with the Platonists, to

cite the Zoroastrian oracles exactly in these words, instances of which

may be found in Proclus on Plato’s theology; and the very words prove

themselves to be a part of an oracle, when attentively considered.]

But he likewise pursued the civil virtues from Aristotle’s political

writings, and Plato’s books concerning laws and a republic. However,

lest he should be conversant only in the contemplation of these, and

should attempt nothing actual, since he was hindered from engaging

in public affairs himself, from his being employed in more important

concerns, he exhorted Archiadas, who was a religious man, to a

political life, at the same time instructing him in its nature and

virtues, and explaining to him the methods proper to be observed in

the discharge of its duties. And in the same manner as they incite

those who run in the race, so he exhorted him to preside in common

over the whole of his city, and to confer benefits privately upon each

according to all the virtues, but particularly in conformity with the

laws of justice. But he excited in reality the emulation of himself in

Archiadas, when he exhibited to him his own liberality and magnificence

with respect to riches, by bestowing gifts at one time on his friends,

and at another time on his kindred, guests, and citizens; proving

himself by this means not in the least affected with avarice, and

conferring not a little to the good of public concerns. But when dying,

he bequeathed that part of his possessions which he did not leave to

Archiadas, to his own country, and to Athens. But Archiadas became so

great a lover of truth, as well from the company of his own associates

as from the friendship of Proclus, that he is never mentioned by

our acquaintance, without being at the same time celebrated as the

religious Archiadas.

But the philosopher also employed himself in civil consultations

among public assemblies, where things pertaining to the republic

were discussed; giving the most prudent counsels, conferring with

governors concerning equity, and not only exhorting them to an

impartial distribution of justice, but in a manner compelling them

by philosophical authority. For he had a certain public care of the

morals of princes, and not only instructed them in the art of temperate

government by his discourse, but also by his own example through the

whole of his life; since he was, as it were, the exemplar of temperance

to the rest. But he gave a specimen of civil fortitude perfectly

Herculean: for since at that time there was, as it were, a sea of

troubles upon him, and mighty waves of stormy employments were roused

by adverse winds against his upright life, he conducted himself, though

in danger, with gravity, and an unshaken constancy. And when he was

once very much molested by the improbity of some violent men, which

was both pernicious and dangerous to himself, he undertook a journey

into Asia, which contributed greatly to his own advantage: for as he

was not unskilful in the more ancient rites of that place, which he

yet preserved, a divine power afforded him this occasion of departure.

Hence, as he well knew the whole of their concerns, he taught them

more accurately in things pertaining to the gods, if they happened to

have neglected any thing through a long interval of time. And while

he was engaged in all these employments, and lived in a correspondent

manner, he was so concealed from the multitude that he even excelled

the Pythagoreans, who keep with unshaken constancy this precept of

their founder, λάθε βιώσας, _live concealed_. But having passed

a year only in the parts of Lydia, he returned to Athens, under the

providential protection of the presiding goddess of philosophy. And

thus fortitude was perfected in our philosopher, first by nature,

then by custom, and afterwards by science and the consideration of

causes. Besides this, he exhibited in another manner his politic habit

practically, by composing letters for noblemen; and by this means

procuring good to entire cities. But of this I have a sufficient

testimony from those on whom they were bestowed, as well Athenians as

Argives, and others of different nations.

But he likewise much promoted and increased literary studies, demanding

of princes rewards for the preceptors, according to their several

deserts. Nor did he undertake this rashly, nor with any interested

views, but he compelled them (as he considered it a matter of great

moment) to be diligent in their profession, interrogating and

discoursing with them respecting every particular: for he was a judge

sufficiently instructed in the employments of them all. And if he ever

found any one negligent in his profession, he sharply reproved him;

so that he appeared very vehement and ambitious, because he was both

willing and able to give a just determination on every subject: and

he was indeed a lover of glory. But this was not a fault in him, as

in most, because it alone regarded virtue and goodness. And, perhaps,

without an energy of this kind, nothing great and excellent would ever

subsist in the human mind. But he was in this respect vehement: this I

will not deny. Yet, at the same time, he was gentle; for he was easily

pleased, and demonstrated in a moment that his anger was as pliable

as wax. For, almost at the same time, he was (as I may say) wholly

transported in reprehension, and with a desire of becoming subservient

to their interest, and that he might intercede with princes in their

names; being moved with a certain natural conjunction of soul, and, as

it were, sympathy of grief.

And here, I very opportunely recollect a peculiar example of his

natural sympathy of soul with others: nor do I think the like was

ever related of any other man. For, notwithstanding he was unmarried,

and had no children (because he was not desirous of such connections,

but remained free from them all, though many noble and rich alliances

were offered him), yet his care of all his familiars and friends,

and of their wives and children, was as great as if he had been

some common father, and the cause of their birth; for he bestowed a

singular attention on the life of each. And whenever any one of them

was detained by any disease, he first earnestly supplicated the gods

on their behalf with sacrifices and hymns; afterwards he gave a prompt

attendance on the sick person himself, convened the physicians, and

urged them to make an immediate trial, if they knew of any thing in

their art advantageous to the condition of the diseased; and sometimes

he produced some singular advice himself, among the physicians; and

thus delivered many from imminent dangers. And the greatness of this

blessed man’s humanity towards his servants, may be understood by

those who desire it, from his will. But of all his familiars, he loved

Archiadas and his kindred the most; because, in the first place, their

succession was derived from the genus of Plutarch the philosopher;

and afterwards on account of that[57] Pythagoric friendship which he

maintained with Archiadas, as he was both the companion and preceptor

of his studies. And this other kind of friendship, differing from

the two already mentioned, appears to have been the most firm and

excellent, among these illustrious men. For Archiadas desired nothing,

which was not also the wish of Proclus; and on the contrary, the

desires of Proclus were the constant wishes of Archiadas.

But having now brought the political virtues, which are inferior to

the true ones, to an end, and terminating them in[58] friendship, as

their proper bound, we shall now pass to the Cathartic differing from

the politic virtues. Indeed, the employment of these last consists in

purifying the soul, that so being liberated from the body as much as

they are able to effect, it may regard human concerns, and possess a

certain similitude with divinity; which is the soul’s best and most

exalted end. Yet they do not all liberate after the same manner,

but some more, and others less. Since there are certain political

purgations which adorn their possessors, even while connected with

body, and reduce them to a better condition; bringing under the

dominion of reason, anger and desire, and entirely destroying passion

and every false opinion: but the Cathartic virtues, which are superior

to these, separate entirely from this truly leaden weight of body, and

procure an easy flight from mundane concerns. And in these, indeed, our

philosopher was studiously employed during the whole of his life, which

was devoted to philosophy; since he both taught by his discourses what

they were, and after what manner they were preparatory to felicity,

and in a particular manner conformed his life to their institutions;

performing every thing which could contribute to the separation of

his soul, using both night and day prayers, lustrations, and other

purifications, as well according to the Orphic as the Chaldaic

institutions: and every month he descended, with great diligence, to

the sea; and this sometimes twice or thrice. But he was exercised in

these, not only in the vigour of his age, but also towards the close of

his life; and these customs he observed perpetually, as if they were

certain invariable statutes.

But he used meat and drink, and other necessary pleasures, only so

far as was necessary to avoid the molestations of disease; for he was

in these by much the most frugal, and particularly loved abstinence

from animal food. And if at any time he was invited to eat it more

vehemently, he was so cautious in its use, that he ate it merely after

the manner of a taster. But he purified himself every month by the

sacred rites, in honour of the mother of the gods, celebrated by the

Romans, and prior to them by the Phrygians: he likewise more diligently

observed the unfortunate days of the Egyptians than they themselves;

and, besides this, fasted, on certain days in a peculiar manner, on

account of the lunar appearances[59]. He likewise instituted a fast

on the last day of the month, not having supped the day before. But

in what a splendid manner, and with what piety, he celebrated the new

moon, and properly observed, with sacrifices, the more illustrious

feasts of almost all nations, according to the manner of each country;

and how from these he did not, according to the custom of many, take

occasion of becoming idle and intemperate, but employed himself in

continual prayers, hymns, and the like, his hymns sufficiently evince,

which not only celebrate the divinities of the Greeks, but likewise

Marna Gazæus, Esculapius Leonteuchus, Ascalonites, and Theandrites,

another god much venerated by the Arabians; together with Isis,

worshipped by the Philians; and lastly, all the rest which were the

subjects of his devotion. For this sentiment was very familiar to

this most religious man, that it was proper a philosopher should not

be careful in the observance of the rites and institutions of one

particular city, nor of certain nations only, but that he should be the

general priest of the universe. And thus was he pure and holy, so far

as pertains to the virtue of temperance.

But he declined, as much as possible, pain: and if it ever happened

to him, he bore it with gentleness, and diminished it with this view,

that his best part might not at the same time be affected with its

molestations. And the fortitude of his soul in this respect, was

sufficiently evinced in his last illness; for when, at that time,

he was oppressed and tormented with the most excruciating pains, he

endeavoured to the utmost to mitigate and expel their afflictive

invasions. Hence, on such occasions, he often commanded us to repeat

certain hymns, which when repeated procured him a remission and

cessation of pain. And what is more wonderful, he remembered what he

heard of these, though forgetful of almost all human concerns, from the

dissolution of his corporeal part continually increasing. For when we

began to repeat, he supplied what was unfinished of the hymns, together

with many of the Orphic verses; for it was these we were then reciting.

Nor was he only thus constant in enduring corporeal evils, but much

more so in external unfortunate events, and such as appeared to happen

contrary to expectation. So that he would say, concerning particulars

of this kind, _So it is, such things are usual_; which seemed to

me, or rather at that time appeared to be, worthy of remembrance, and

an evident argument of our philosopher’s magnanimity. But besides this,

he restrained anger as much as possible, so that it might either remain

free from all excitation, or that at least reason might not consent to

its indulgence, but the irrational faculty alone, contrary to his will,

might be moderately and lightly excited. And with respect to venereal

concerns, he used them in the natural way, but so as that he might not

proceed beyond a very moderate and light phantasy, in their indulgence.

And thus the soul of this blessed man, having collected itself from

all parts, and retiring into the depths of its essence, departed

after a manner from body; while it yet appeared to be contained in

its dark receptacle. For he possessed a prudence, not like that of a

civil nature, which is conversant in the administration of fluctuating

particulars, but prudence itself, by itself sincere, which is engaged

in contemplating, and converting itself into itself, without any longer

consenting to a corporeal nature. He likewise possessed a temperance

free from evil; and which is not even moderately influenced by

perturbations, but is abstracted from all affections. And lastly, he

acquired a fortitude, which does not fear a departure from body. But

reason and intellect having obtained in him a perfect dominion, and the

inferior powers of his soul no longer opposing themselves to purifying

justice, his whole life was adorned with the divine irradiations of

genuine virtue.

Our philosopher, therefore, having most happily absolved this form of

virtues, advancing now, as it were, by the highest and most mystical

step, he ascended to the greatest and most consummate or telestic

virtues; employing for this purpose, the felicity of his nature, and

a sciential institution. Hence, being now purified, and the victor of

his nativity, and despising the vain Thyrsus-bearers, and boasters of

wisdom, he happily penetrated into her profound recesses, and enjoyed

the contemplation of the truly blessed spectacles she contains. No

longer requiring prolix dissertations, or demonstrations, for the

purpose of collecting the science of these, but, with a simple vision

and energy of intellect, beholding the exemplar of the divine mind,

he obtained a virtue which cannot with sufficient propriety be called

prudence, but is more properly denominated wisdom, or something,

if possible, still more venerable and divine. But the philosopher

energizing, according to this virtue, easily comprehended all the

theology of the Greeks and Barbarians, and whatever is shadowed over

by the figments of fables, and placed it in a clear light, for the use

of those who are willing and able to pursue its latent signification.

But having interpreted divinely every thing of this kind, and shewing

the symphony between them all; at the same time, investigating all the

writings of the ancients, whatever he found in them of genuine wisdom,

and approved by general consent, this he judiciously applied to use;

but if he found any thing of a different and dissonant nature, this

he entirely rejected, as vicious and false. And whatever he met with

contrary to wisdom, though endued with a friendly appearance, this he

vigorously subverted by a diligent examination. Nor did he employ less

force and perspicuity in his association with other men. For he was a

man laborious to a miracle; as he often, in one day absolved five, and

sometimes more lectures; and writ besides, many verses, often to the

number of seven hundred. Besides this, he went to other philosophers,

and frequented their company; and again celebrated with them an

evening association, ceasing from the labour of writing. And all

these employments he executed in such a manner, as not to neglect his

nocturnal and vigilant piety to the gods, and assiduously supplicating

the sun when rising, when at his meridian, and when he sets.

But he was the parent of many dogmata, which were never known before,

both in physics, and in intellectual and more divine concerns. For he

first taught, that there was a kind of souls[60], endued with the power

of contemplating many forms at once, which he placed, not without great

probability, between intellect, collectively, and as it were with one

intuition comprehending every thing, and souls, which are alone able to

direct their vision to one particular form. And those who are willing

to peruse his works will meet with a great variety of dogmata, peculiar

to him alone; the relation of which I shall omit, lest I should give a

too great extent to my discourse. But he who evolves his writings, will

easily perceive that all we have above related of him is most true, and

much more if he happens to have known him, to have seen his face, and

to have heard him interpreting in the most excellent dissertations, and

delivering the Platonic and Socratic dogmata in his yearly schools.

Nor did he seem destitute of divine inspiration; for he produced from

his wise mouth, words similar to the most white and thick falling

snow[61]; so that his eyes emitted a bright radiance, and the rest of

his countenance was resplendent with a divine light. Hence, when on a

certain time, one Rufinus, a man of a great name in the republic, who

was studious of truth, and in other respects worthy of veneration, came

to him when he was teaching and interpreting, he perceived that the

head of Proclus was surrounded with a light; and when the philosopher

had finished his interpretation, Rufinus rising, adored him; and

offered to give a public testimony, by oath, of the divine vision which

he had observed. And much gold was offered to him, by the same Rufinus,

on his return from Asia, having escaped the danger of the war. But

Proclus likewise rejected this gift, and was by no means willing to

receive it.

But that we may return to our first design, having now discoursed

concerning the contemplative wisdom of the philosopher, though

in a manner but little suited to its dignity, it remains that we

now speak of the justice pertaining to this kind of virtues. For

this, unlike that of which we spoke before, is not conversant in

distribution, or proportion; but must be equally removed from the kind

of self-energizing justice, by which all things are alone directed to

the rational soul. For to that, concerning which we now treat, it is

alone proper to refer every energy to intellect and the deity, which

our philosopher performed in the most exalted manner. For he scarcely

rested from his diurnal labours, or refreshed his body with sleep,

and perhaps even then was not free from meditation and contemplation.

This is certain, that having very speedily roused himself from sleep,

as from a certain torpor of the soul, he aspired after the morning,

the time of prayer; and lest the greater part of the night, should

glide from him without advantage, as he was lying alone in his bed, he

either composed hymns, or examined and fortified those dogmata which

afterwards, in the day time, he committed to writing.

After a similar manner he pursued that temperance which has an affinity

with these virtues, and which consists in a conversion of the soul to

intellect, so as not to suffer itself to be touched, nor moved with any

other concerns. Lastly, he joined fortitude in alliance with these, by

a certain perfect method, zealously aspiring after that liberty which

is ignorant of all passion, and which he perceived was natural to the

divine object of his contemplation. And thus, through the whole of his

conduct, he did not lead the life of a man merely good, to which, as

Plotinus says, the political virtues may lead, but leaving this far

behind him, he endeavoured to change it for one much more perfect and

divine, the life of the gods themselves; since, to become similar to

these, and not to virtuous men, was the great object of his contention.

And thus he had rendered virtues of this kind familiar to himself,

while he frequented the philosopher Syrianus, and evolved and studied

the commentaries of the ancients. But he received from the mouth of

his preceptor certain small seeds, as it were, of the Orphic and

Chaldaic theology; because he was prevented from hearing the complete

interpretation of his master on the Orphic verses. For Syrianus left to

the choice of Proclus and one Domninus[62], a philosopher of the Syrian

nation, and who afterwards succeeded Syrianus, the exposition of the

Orphic writings, or the oracles. But they were by no means unanimous

in their choice; for Domninus preferred the interpretation of the

Orphic verses, and Proclus that of the oracles. But our philosopher did

not perfect his undertaking, because the death of the great Syrianus

happened not long after. Having therefore, as I have said, received

the outlines from the mouth of his master, he applied himself with

the greatest diligence to the written commentaries of Syrianus upon

Orpheus; and being assiduously nourished with the copious lucubrations

of Porphyry and Jamblichus on the oracles, and similar writings of

the Chaldeans, he arrived, as much as is possible to man, to the top

of those highest virtues, which the divine Jamblichus was accustomed

to call after a truly divine manner, theurgic. He laboured therefore,

not without exquisite judgment, in collecting the expositions of

philosophers prior to his time; and contracted into one, other

Chaldaic hypotheses, and the most excellent of the commentaries on

the divine oracles, completing this great work in the space of five

years; concerning which this divine vision appeared to him in his

sleep. For he saw the great Plutarch approach to him, affirming that

he should live so many years as he had composed tetrads or quaternions

on the oracles. Afterwards, having collected the number of these, he

found they amounted to seventy. But that this was a divine dream,

was sufficiently evinced by the last part of his life; for though

he lived seventy-five years, as we have mentioned above, yet he had

not the perfect use of his powers, in the five last. But his body,

though naturally of the best constitution, being debilitated by that

hard and scarcely tolerable kind of diet which he used, and by so

many frequent labours and fastings, began to languish exactly at his

seventieth year, so that he then became much more remiss in all his

energies than before. Yet, even at this period, and thus affected, he

composed orations and hymns: he also writ some things, and conversed

with his friends; but his ancient vigour was wanting in each. Hence

the memory of the dream excited his wonder, and he every where said,

that he had only lived seventy years. But while he laboured under this

infirmity of body, a certain youth, named Hegias, rendered him more

alert in the business of interpretation. This young man, who already

exhibited from his tender years such egregious signs of all the virtues

of his ancestors, was one of that golden chain of philosophers, who

had formerly appeared to men; and adhered most diligently to Proclus

delivering the Platonic and other theologies. But Proclus, at this

advanced period, was not moderately rejoiced in communicating with

the young man, his own writings, after he understood that he made

cubital advances in every kind of disciplines. And thus we have briefly

discoursed concerning the apparatus of the philosopher in the Chaldean

oracles.

But I, on a certain time, having read with him the Orphic verses, and

heard, among his interpretations, not only the recondite theology

which is to be found in Jamblichus and Syrianus, but also, among many

other divine men, I requested the philosopher that he would not leave

these divine verses also without his explanation: but his answer was,

That he had often thought of writing commentaries on Orpheus, but that

he had been strongly prohibited in more than one dream. For Syrianus

appearing to him in his sleep, had deterred him with threats from the

design. Having therefore employed other machines, I intreated that at

least he would mark what he principally approved of in the books of

his master; which when this best of men had performed, in consequence

of my persuasions, and had noted some things in the front of each of

Syrianus’s commentaries, we obtained a collection of all these, and

by this means scholia, and commentaries of no small bulk; though to

accomplish this on the whole of that divine poetry, and on all the

Orphic rhapsiodies, was not the intention of Proclus.

But since, as we have said, his incredible study of these concerns,

procured him a greater and more perfect degree of theurgic virtue,

hence he no longer remained in the contemplative order, nor contented

with either of the twofold properties in divine concerns, exercised

intellect and thought alone on the more excellent objects of

speculation: but he was careful to obtain another kind of virtues more

divine than the former, and separated from the politic mode; for he

used the Chaldean assemblies and conferences, and their divine and

ineffable concealments. And having comprehended these, he learned the

manner of pronouncing and expressing them, with their remaining use,

from Asclepigenia, the daughter of Plutarch: for she alone, at that

time, preserved the knowledge of the great Orgies, and of the whole

theurgic discipline, delivered to her by her father, who received it

from Nestor. Besides this, our philosopher also being purified in an

orderly manner in the Chaldean lustrations, was an inspector of the

lucid hecatic phasmai (or visions) of which he himself makes mention in

one of his commentaries. But by moving a certain hecatic sphærula[63],

he very opportunely brought down showers of rain, and freed Athens

from an unseasonable heat. Besides this, by certain phylacteria, or

charms, he stopt an earthquake, and had thoroughly tried the energies

of a divining tripod, having learned from certain verses concerning its

defect. For when he was in his fortieth year, he thought in a dream,

that he repeated to himself, the following verses:

High above æther there with radiance bright,

A pure immortal splendor wings its flight;

Whose beams divine with vivid force aspire,

And leap resounding from a fount of fire.

And in the beginning of his forty-second year, he appeared to himself

to pronounce these verses, with a loud voice:

Lo! on my soul a sacred fire descends,

Whose vivid pow’r the intellect extends;

From whence far-beaming through dull bodies night,

It soars to æther deck’d with starry light;

And with soft murmurs through the azure round,

The lucid regions of the gods resound.

Besides, he clearly perceived that he belonged to the Mercurial series;

and was persuaded from a dream that he possessed the soul of[64]

Nicomachus the Pythagorean.

Indeed, if I were willing to be prolix, I could relate many theurgical

operations of this blessed man; from the infinite number of which,

I will only relate one in this place of a very wonderful nature.

Asclepigenia, the daughter of Archiades and Plutarch, but the wife of

Theagenes, from whom I have received many benefits, while she was yet a

girl, and was nourished by her parents, fell into a disease, grievous,

and incurable by the physicians. And Archiades, who had reposed in her

alone the hope of his race, was deeply afflicted with her condition.

But the physicians despairing of her recovery, the father fled to his

last anchor, Proclus the philosopher, which he was accustomed to do in

affairs of the greatest moment, considering him as his best preserver,

and earnestly intreated him to intercede by his prayers with the god

for his daughter, whose condition was well known to our philosopher.

Proclus therefore, taking with him Pericles[65] the Lydian, a man

well deserving the name of a philosopher, went to the temple of

Esculapius[66], that he might pray to the god for the health of the

sick virgin: for the city at that time happily possessed this divinity,

and rejoiced in the temple of the saviour god, which was as yet free

from the destruction of the Christians. As soon, therefore, as Proclus

had prayed after the ancient manner, the girl immediately perceived a

great change and alleviation of her disease; for the preserving god had

easily restored her to health. The sacred rites being finished, Proclus

went to Asclepigenia, and found her delivered from the molestations of

disease, and in a healthy condition. But this affair, with many others,

was performed privately, so that no traces of it remained to succeeding

investigators; and the house in which he resided greatly assisted him

in this design. For besides his other fortunes, he enjoyed a most

convenient dwelling, which his father Syrianus and his grand-father

Plutarch (for so he did not hesitate to call him) had once inhabited;

and this was situated near the temple of Esculapius, together with

that of the celebrated Sophocles, and of Bacchus, which is next to the

theatre, and looks towards, or is at least seen from, the lofty towers

of Minerva.

But how much Proclus was loved by the philosophic goddess is

abundantly evinced by his philosophic life, which he chose through

her persuasions, and that with the great success we have hitherto

described. But she clearly demonstrated her affection to Proclus, by

the following circumstance. When her image, which had been so long

dedicated in the parthenon, or temple, was taken away by those[67] who,

without any hesitation, moved out of their places things the most holy,

and which ought to be immoveable, there appeared to the philosopher

in a dream, a woman of a graceful form, who admonished him to build a

temple with great expedition, for, says she, _it pleases Minerva, the

presiding deity of philosophy, to dwell with you_. And how familiar

he was with Esculapius, besides what we have mentioned above, may be

evinced from his perceiving the presence of the same god in his last

illness. For while he was between sleeping and waking, he perceived a

dragon creeping on his head, which vision occasioned a remission of

his disease, and a mitigation of his pain; so that it is probable he

would have been restored to perfect health, if his desire and vehement

expectation of death had not prevented his recovery, or his no longer

bestowing a diligent attention on his body.

But he also related the following circumstances, (worthy of being

remembered) but not without tears, through the sympathy of his mind.

For, when a young man, he was afraid lest he should be infested

with the gout, which was the disease of his father, and which loves

to descend from parents to their children. Nor was he afraid, as

it seems, without reason; for prior to that which we have already

related concerning him, he was tormented with pains of this kind, when

another extraordinary circumstance happened to this blessed man. In

consequence of a certain person’s prescription, whom he had consulted,

he applied a plaster to his tormented foot, which an unexpected bird

flew away with as he was lying on his bed. And this was certainly a

divine and salutary symbol to Proclus, and might have persuaded him

not to be afraid of this calamity in future. But he, as I have said,

was notwithstanding afflicted with the dread of this disease; he

therefore supplicated the healing god concerning this, and intreated

him to afford him a more evident token of his will: and after this he

saw in his sleep (it is bold indeed to conceive such a circumstance in

the mind, but we must dare, nevertheless, nor dread to bring truth

to light) Esculapius approaching to him, and accurately contemplating

his leg, nor disdaining, through his great philanthropy to embrace his

knee. Hence, in consequence of this vision, Proclus was, through the

whole of his life, free from the apprehensions of this disease, and was

never more tortured with this kind of pains.