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.
Again, the god who is worshipped by the Adrotteni, did not less conspicuously evince his great familiarity with this friend of the gods; for, more than once, the god benevolently presented himself to the sight of Proclus, frequenting his temple. And when he was doubtful, and wished to know what god or gods resided and were worshipped in that place, because the inhabitants were of different opinions in this affair, some believing that the temple of Esculapius was there, persuaded of this by various signs, as voices are certainly said to be heard in that place, and a table is consecrated to the gods, and oracles are given concerning the recovery of health, and those who approach are miraculously delivered from the most grievous dangers of life. Others, on the contrary, think that the Dioscuri reside in that place, because there have been those who saw in the way tending towards Adrotta, two young men of the most beautiful form, and riding with great celerity on horseback; at the same time declaring, that they hastened to the temple. They add besides, that the countenance of these was indeed human, but that they immediately gave evidence of a more divine presence; for when the men were arrived at the temple, the above mentioned youths appeared to them, making no enquiry concerning the affair, and occupied in the sacred concerns; but presently after, withdrew themselves from their sight. As the philosopher, therefore, was in doubt concerning these divinities, and did not discredit the relations, having requested the gods who inhabited that place, that they would condescend to manifest who they were; a god appeared to him in a dream, and clearly spoke to him as follows: What! Hast thou not heard of Jamblichus teaching concerning, and celebrating those two, Machaon and Podalirius? And besides this, the god condescended to afford so great an instance of benevolence to this blessed man, that he stood after the manner of those who bestow encomiums on others in the theatres, and with a clear voice, and composed habit, extending his right hand, did not hesitate to exclaim, (that I may relate the words of the god,) Proclus the ornament of the city. And what could possibly be a greater testimony of this blessed man’s friendship with divinity? But he, indeed, in consequence of a most remarkable sympathy, by which he was united with the gods, could never refrain from tears when he mentioned this affair to us, and related the divine encomium of himself.
Indeed, if I were willing to pursue every particular in like manner, and to relate his familiarity with the Hermetic Pan, together with the great benevolence and manifold assistance which that divinity condescended to afford Proclus at Athens, and of that perfectly singular kind of felicity which he obtained from the mother of the gods, and in which he was accustomed especially to triumph and rejoice; I should perhaps seem to many readers, to be rash in my assertions, and to others, the author of things perfectly incredible. For many and great were the daily instances of this goddess’s benevolence towards him, in words and actions, which are both innumerable and unheard of, and concerning which, I do not at present retain an accurate remembrance. But if any one is desirous of knowing how great he was in these, he must evolve his book concerning the mother of the gods, from which he will understand, that it was not without divine assistance he produced all the theology of that goddess into light; as likewise, whatever is acted or affirmed concerning the same in the fables of Athis, which he has explained after a philosophical manner, that vulgar ears might afterwards cease to be disturbed, on perceiving the lamentations and other obscure ceremonies with which her mysteries are celebrated.
After having, therefore, run through the theurgic virtue of Proclus, and its energies, and the happy circumstances which befell him, respecting its operations, and having shewn, that he did not less excel in every kind of virtue, and that he was a man such as mortals have not beheld for a long period of time, it remains that we now bring our discourse concerning him to a conclusion: for we are not now at the beginning of our narration, nor does the half of the whole remain to us, according to the proverb, but the whole itself is now perfect and complete. Since having begun from the felicity of the philosopher, and proceeded in its exemplification, our discourse now returns to it again. For we have explained the great goods, and providential exertions, which were granted to this most excellent man from the gods, and have shewn their prompt attention to his prayers, the divine visions which he enjoyed, and the help and solicitude which the gods testified towards him. We have likewise explained his prosperous fate, and propitious fortune, his country, parents, the good habit of his body, his masters, friends, and other external advantages; each of which we have shewn to have been far greater and more splendid in him than in other men; and have likewise diligently enumerated such things as cannot be reckoned amongst outward allurements, but entirely depended on his will, such as are the upright and illustrious deeds of his soul, according to universal virtue. And thus we have summarily demonstrated that his soul arrived in reality at the summit of the most consummate virtue, and was happily established in a perfect life, by human and divine goods of every kind.
But that the lovers of more elegant studies way be able to conjecture from the position of the stars under which he was born, that the condition of his life, was by no means among the last or middling classes, but ranked among the highest and most happy orders, we have thought fit to expose in this place, the following scheme of his nativity[68].
| ☉ | 16° | 26’ | ♒ |
| ☽ | 17 | 29 | ♊ |
| ♄ | 24 | 23 | ♉ |
| ♃ | 24 | 41 | ♉ |
| ♂ | 29 | 50 | ♐ |
| ♀ | — | 23 | ♓ |
| ☿ | 4 | 42 | ♒ |
| Horos. | 8 | 19 | ♈ |
| Mid. Heaven. | 4 | 42 | ♑ |
| ☋ or the head of the dragon. | |||
| 24 | 33 | ♏ | |
| The new moon preceding his birth. | |||
| 8 | 51 | ♒ | |
But Proclus departed from this corporeal life, in the one hundred and twenty-fourth year after the government of Julian, on the seventeenth day of the Attic Munichion, or the April of the Romans. Nicagoras, the junior, being at that time the Athenian archon. The dead body was taken care of according to the Athenian rites, as he himself while living had directed. And if that diligent attention which is due to the deceased, was ever paid by any one, it was certainly bestowed by this most blessed man. For he did not neglect any particular of the accustomed ceremonies, but every year, on certain days, visited the sepulchres of the Athenian heroes and philosophers, and besides this sacrificed himself, and not through the medium of another, to the manes of his friends and familiars. And having thus exhibited to each a proper reverence and honour, proceeding into the Academy, he there, in a certain place, pleased one by one the manes of his ancestors and kindred; and shortly after, in another part of the same Academy, he supplicated in common the souls of all philosophers. And these ceremonies being ended, this most excellent man, having chosen a third place, performed sacred rites to all the souls of deceased mankind. The dead body of Proclus, therefore, being disposed of according to his appointment, as we have said, was carried by his friends and buried in the eastern part of the suburbs[69], near to Lycabetus, where also the body of his preceptor Syrianus reposes, who, when he was alive, had requested this of our philosopher, and, in consequence of this, had taken care to procure a twofold receptacle in his sepulchre. But when this most holy man was consulted how he would wish his funeral to be conducted, lest there should be any thing indecent, or without a proper decorum, he desired flutes, with which he was threatened in a dream, and nothing besides. An epigram, consisting of four verses, is inscribed on his tomb, which he composed himself, as follows:
I Proclus, here the debt of nature paid,
(My country Lycia) in the dust am laid;
Great Syrianus form’d my early youth,
And left me his successor in the truth.
One common tomb, our earthly part contains,
One place our kindred souls,—th’ ætherial plains.
Nor were prognostics wanting in the year prior to his decease, such as an eclipse[70] of the sun, so great that night was produced in the day-time: for the darkness was so profound, that the stars became visible. And this happened when the sun was in Capricorn, in the eastern centre. Besides, the writers of Ephemeride observe that there will be another eclipse of the sun, at the conclusion of the next year. But such like affections of the heavenly bodies are said to portend events on the earth: to us indeed, the eclipse perspicuously signified a privation and, as it were, defection of the illustrious luminary of philosophy.
And thus much may suffice for the life of the philosopher. It now remains for those who are willing to undertake the labour, to write concerning his disciples and friends. For it appears that many resorted to him from all parts; among which some were only his auditors, but others firm adherents to his doctrine; and, on account of philosophy, his familiars. I could likewise wish that some one, who is more laborious than myself, would give a particular account of his writings. For I have alone delivered these particulars of his life, that I might satisfy my conscience, and might testify that I religiously reverence the soul of Proclus, and his good dæmon. I shall, therefore, add nothing concerning the philosopher’s writings, except that I have always heard him prefer his commentaries on the Timæus of Plato beyond all his works. He likewise vehemently approved of his commentaries on the Theætetus. And he used frequently to say, that if he was endued with despotic power, he would alone preserve, of all the writings of the ancients, the Oracles and the Timæus. For, said he, I would abolish all the rest, and remove them from the present age, because it happens that many are offended, who undertake to read them rashly, and without proper institution.