Moreover, in the time of the Empire a tendency was noticeable to confuse philosophy with magic. If this tendency was not justifiable, it is at least suggestive. Dio Cassius, in the passage above quoted, represents Maecenas as saying that not a few of those who pretend to be philosophers practice magic.[158] Apuleius, accused of magic, stated in his Apologia that he was undertaking not only his own defense but that of philosophy.[159] The accusation against him also suggests similar charges brought against mediaeval men of learning during their lives or reputations which they won after death. Apuleius, having married a rich widow older than himself, was charged by some sycophant, jealous rival or other personal enemy with having obtained her affections by use of sorcery. Apuleius seems to have studied medicine, if no other branch of physical science, for he asserts that certain verses laid to his charge by the accuser deal with nothing more harmful than a recipe for making tooth-powder, and that a woman whom he was said to have bewitched had merely fallen into an epileptic fit while consulting him concerning an ear-ache.[160] This might be taken to show that the pursuit of science was already liable to give one a bad reputation as a wizard; but it should be said that the love-verses of Apuleius, as well as his poetical prescriptions, were used to support the accusation, and that the purchase of fish was also brought forward as a suspicious circumstance. Apuleius affirms in his oration that “philosophers” have always been subjected to such charges. He says, however, that the investigators of physical causes like Anaxagoras, Leucippus, Democritus and Epicurus generally have the epithet atheist cast in their teeth, while it is the seekers into the mysteries of theology and religion like Epimenides, Orpheus, Pythagoras and Ostanes who are reputed to be magi.[161]

II. Philo of Alexandria and allegorical interpretation

Allegorical interpretation, unless of a very mild character, is usually a fantastic and mystical method of deriving information or inspiration. Even if an author intended to conceal secret mysteries beneath the letter of his text, there is very slight chance that the far-fetched and intricate mode of solution employed by the interpreter will be the one which the writer had in mind. In most cases, however, after due allowance has been made for figures of speech and play of poetical imagination, it is an erroneous and absurd assumption to suppose that an author did not mean what his language indicates and no more. Therefore the believer in allegorical interpretation would seem to be accepting something quite like a magical doctrine. Indeed, allegorical interpretation is liable to lead one into a belief that words, besides possessing a mystical significance with which the thought of their writer had endowed them, have in and of themselves great power. It borders upon the occult reveries of the Cabalists and upon that magic power of words which we have seen upheld by Roger Bacon, John Reuchlin and Henry Cornelius Agrippa.

This allegorical interpretation of literature has played a great part in human history. It was rife in the age of the Roman Empire, when Philo Judaeus of Alexandria (approximate date, 30 b. c. to 54 a. d.) was perhaps its greatest exponent, as he was also the chief member of the Jewish-Alexandrian school of philosophy.

Philo carried allegorical interpretation to an absurd extreme even if he did not go quite so far as Reuchlin and Agrippa. Not only did he make such assertions as that by Hagar was typified “encyclical education” that Ishmael was her “sophist son,” and that Sarah stood for “the ruling virtue,”[162] but in general he tried to read into the Old Testament all the doctrines of Greek philosophy and science. He declared that all knowledge, whether in religion, philosophy or natural science, might be acquired by allegorical interpretation of the Pentateuch. Now we can say without manifesting any semblance of irreverence towards true religion, that to endeavor to gain from the books of the Old Testament — especially by the methods which Philo employed — either the key to all philosophy or adequate knowledge of natural science and extensive control of the forces of nature, would, if possible, be as marvelous a feat, and is as fallacious and fantastic a proceeding, as to try to coin gold from copper, or to learn the future from the stars, or even to obtain a solution of the problems of philosophy and a knowledge and control of nature by invoking demons to instruct and to assist you. The very notion that some man like Moses a thousand or more years ago had at his command all the knowledge that can ever be got is magical itself. Moses must have been a magician to know so much. Philo, moreover, if he did not believe in a magic power of words, at least showed that they seemed to him to have a most extraordinary significance. In his treatise, De Mutatione Nominum, he relates with great unction the just punishment of hanging which overtook an impious scoffer who derided the notion that the change in the names of Abraham and of Sarah had any profound meaning.[163] As one would naturally expect from what has been said about Philo thus far, he regarded knowledge as something sacred and esoteric. In his writings he liked to talk of mysteries and to request the uninitiated to withdraw. This attitude, while in itself-not exactly magic, is as has been already suggested, the product of a mind attuned to magic. Finally, Philo, following Pythagoras, attached great significance to numbers.

Philo not only represents a widespread tendency during the Roman Empire, but probably well illustrates the influence of that tendency upon later times. His numerous works were apparently much consulted by the church fathers, and thereby exerted a strong influence upon the Middle Ages. It is needless to enlarge upon the prominence of allegorical interpretation in the works of mediaeval ecclesiastical writers. The conception of knowledge as esoteric was also prevalent then, though perhaps to a less extent. To give an early instance from patristic literature, Clement of Alexandria, in his Stromata, insists upon the necessity of veiling divine truth in allegories, and has a long discussion in favor of mysticism in learning, citing as examples Greek philosophers as well as Hebrew writers.[164] Moreover, to Philo as source we may trace back the disquisitions upon the mystic, if not magic, properties of six and other numbers which we find in Augustine[165] and apparently in almost every mediaeval writer who had occasion to speak of the six days of creation and of the seventh day of rest.

III. Seneca’s Problems of Nature and divination

We shall next consider the Problems of Nature — or Natural Questions, if one prefers merely to transcribe the Latin — of Seneca, who was practically a contemporary of Pliny. Seneca impresses one as a favorable representative of ancient science. He tells us that already in his youth he had written a treatise on earthquakes and their causes.[166] His aim is to inquire into the natural causes of phenomena; he wants to know why things are so. He is aware that his own age has only entered the vestibule of the knowledge of natural phenomena and forces, that it has but just begun to know five of the many stars, that “there will come a time when our descendants will wonder that we were ignorant of matters so evident.”[167]

One must admit, however, that along with Seneca’s consciousness of the very imperfect knowledge of his own age there goes a tendency to esotericism. The following language would come fittingly from the mouth of a magician:

There are sacred things which are not revealed all at once. Eleusis reserves sights for those who revisit her. Nature does not disclose her mysteries in a moment. We think ourselves initiated; we stand but at her portal. Those secrets open not promiscuously nor to every comer. They are remote of access, enshrined in the inner sanctuary.[168]