Book 4 — SECTION III.

It is now requisite that we should direct our attention to Iamblichus, the celebrated disciple of Porphyry, who, on account of the sublimity of his genius, and his admirable proficiency in theological learning, was surnamed, the divine. This extraordinary man who appears to have been born for the advancement of theology, though zealously attached to the Platonic philosophy, yet explored the wisdom of other sects, particularly of the Pythagoreans, Egyptians, and Chaldeans; and formed one beautiful system of recondite knowledge, from their harmonious conjunction. There is a short life of this philosophic hero extant, by Eunapius, the substance of which is as follows; Iamblicus was descended of a family equally illustrious, fortunate, and rich. His country was Chalcis, a city of Syria, which they denominate Cælen. He associated with Anatolius, who was the second to Porphyry, but he far excelled him in his attainments, and ascended to the very summit of philosophy. But after he had been for some time connected with Anatolius, and most probably found him insufficient to satisfy the vast desires of his soul, he applied himself to Porphyry, to whom (says Eunapuis) he was nothing inferior, except in the structure and power of composition. For his writings were not so elegant and graceful as those of Porphyry: they were neither agreeable, nor conspicuous; nor free from impurity of diction. And though they were not entirely involved in obscurity, and perfectly faulty; yet, as Plato formerly said of Zenocrates, he did not sacrifice to the mercurial Graces. Hence he is far from detaining the reader with delight, or inviting him to a perusal of his works; but he rather seems to avert and dull the attention, and frustrate the reader’s expectation. However, though the surface of his conceptions is not covered with the flowers of elocution, yet his thoughts contain a most admirable depth, and his imagination is truly divine. He shared in an eminent degree the favour of divinity on account of his cultivation of justice; and obtained a multitude of associates and disciples, who came from all parts of the world, for the purpose of participating the streams of wisdom, which so plentifully flowed from the sacred fountain of his wonderful mind. Among these was Sopater[96] the Syrian, of the greatest eloquence, both in composition and discourse; Eustathius the Cappadocian; and of the Greeks, Theodorus and Euphrasius. All these were excellent for their virtues and attainments, as well as many others of his disciples, who were not much inferior to the former in eloquence; so that it seems wonderful, how Iamblichus, could attend to them all, with such gentleness of manners and benignity of disposition.

He performed some few particulars relative to the veneration of divinity, by himself, without his associates and disciples; but was inseparable from his familiars in most of his operations. He imitated in his diet the frugal simplicity of the most ancient times; and during his repast exhilerated those who were present by his behaviour, and filled them as with nectar by the sweetness of his discourse. Some of these inflamed with an unwearied desire of hearing his wisdom, and incapable of being satiated with its pleasure, were his constant guests, and once addressed him as follows: “Why, O divine master, do you thus act alone, without communicating to us your most consummate wisdom? Yet it has been reported to us by your servants, that you have been seen, while engaged in prayer, elevated more than ten cubits from the ground, your body and garments at the same time being changed into a golden colour; and that when your prayers have been finished, your body has returned to its pristine form, and descending to the earth you have associated and discoursed with us as before.” Upon this Iamblichus laughed (though he was not addicted to laughter) and replied: “He who invented this false relation, was not unpleasant; but in future, nothing shall be transacted without you.”

The two following circumstances, relative to the theurgical powers of this wonderful man, are related by Eunapius, which the reader may credit or reject as he pleases. At that season of the year, when the sun rises in conjunction with the dog-star, Iamblichus went with his disciples to sacrifice, in one of the suburbs of the city; and after the sacrifice was performed they returned to town, gently walking along, and discoursing concerning the gods, as a subject very proper for the occasion. Then Iamblichus, who was perfectly lost in thought in the midst of the discourse, whose voice was fallen, and eyes immoveably fixed on the earth, turned to his companions and exclaimed: “Let us take another road, for not far from hence there is a funeral procession”. Iamblichus accordingly chose a purer way, and was accompanied by some who were ashamed to forsake their master: but the greater part, among whom was Aedesius, obstinately persisted in the former road, ascribing the affair to the vanity and superstition of the man, and tracing the event with avidity and caution. In the mean time, those whose office consists in burying the dead approached, contrary to the expectation of his disciples; and upon enquiring whether they had taken that road from the first, they answered in the affirmative, and that no other path led to the place of their destination. But the second relation is far more wonderful than the present: for in the first (says Eunapius) perhaps the sight and smell of Iamblichus was more powerful than that of his disciples. His associates therefore, not satisfied with this testimony of his extraordinary powers, were desirous to try him in a greater affair, and upon solliciting Iamblichus for this purpose, he replied that a proof of this kind was not dependant on his own will, but must be referred to a proper opportunity. In a short time after this, they all went to Gadara in Syria, a place so famous for baths, that, after Baiæ in Campania, it is the second in the Roman empire. Here a dispute concerning baths arising while they were bathing, Iamblichus smiling, said to them: “Though what I am about to disclose is not pious, yet for your sakes it shall be undertaken;” and at the same time he ordered his disciples to enquire of the natives, what appellations had been formerly given to two of the hot fountains, which were indeed less than the others, but more elegant and graceful. Upon enquiry, they found themselves unable to discover the cause of their nomination; but were informed that the one was called ἔρως, eros, or love, and the other ἀντέρως, anteros, or the god who avenges the injuries of lovers. Iamblichus immediately touching the water with his hand (for he sat perhaps on the margin of the fountain) and murmuring a few words, raised from the bottom of the fountain, a fair boy, of a moderate stature, whose hair seemed to be tinged with gold, and the upper part of whose breast was of a luminous appearance. His companions being astonished at the novelty of the affair, let us pass on says he, to the next fountain; and at the same time he arose, fixed in thought, and performing the same ceremonies as before, called forth the other love, who was in all respects similar to the former, except that his hair, scattered in his neck was blacker, and was like the sun in refulgence. At the same time both the boys, eagerly embraced Iamblichus, as if he had been their natural parent: but he immediately restored them to their proper seats, and when he had washed departed from the place. After this affair, the astonishment of his familiars and disciples was so great, that they submitted to the doctrines of Iamblichus with implicit assent. Eunapius observes that other extraordinary particulars were related of Iamblichus, but that they had too much the appearance of fables to be combined with historical veracity. He adds that he should fear the preceding relations, were delusive and fictitious, if they had not been confirmed by men who were eye-witnesses of their reality.

A celebrated philosopher named Alypius, lived at the same time as Iamblichus, who was deeply skilled in dialectic; but was of such a short stature, and so slender in body, that he exhibited the appearance of a pygmy. However his great abilities amply compensated for this trifling defect; and he might be said to have emigrated into soul alone, by which he was possessed as by some inspiring god. This Alypius had many followers, but his mode of philosophising, was confined to private conference and disputation, without committing any of his dogmata to writing. Hence his disciples gladly applied themselves to Iamblichus, desirous to draw abundantly from his copious mind, as from a perennial and overflowing fountain. The same therefore of each continually increasing, they once accidentally met like two refulgent stars, and were surrounded by so great a croud of auditors, that it represented some mighty musæum. While Iamblichus on this occasion waited rather to be interrogated than to propose a question himself, Alypius, contrary to the expectation of every one, relinquishing philosophical discussions, and seeing himself surrounded with a theatre of men, turned to Iamblichus, and said to him: tell me O philosopher, is the rich man unjust, or the heir of the unjust? For in this case there is no medium. But Iamblichus hating the acuteness of the question, replied, “This kind of disputation, O illustrious man, relative to external concerns, is foreign from our philosophical mode; since we alone propose as subjects of speculation, characters replete with philosophic virtue.” After he had said this he departed, and at the same time all the surrounding multitude was immediately dispersed. But Iamblichus collecting himself when alone, and admiring the acuteness of the question, often privately resorted to Alypius, whom he vehemently extolled for the subtility of his judgment, and the sagacity of his genius; and whose life he historically and copiously delineated. This Alypius was an Alexandrian by birth, and died in his own country, worn out with age: and after him Iamblichus[97], leaving behind him many roots and fountains of philosophy; which, through the cultivation of succeeding Platonists, produced a fair variety of vigorous branches and copious streams.

The writings of this extraordinary man, though inestimably valuable, are not numerous; and the greater part are unfortunately lost. The only one which is preserved, relative to the Platonic theology, is the following:

On the mysteries of the Egyptians, Chaldæans, and Assyrians: or an answer to the epistle of Porphyry to the prophet Anebo. This admirable book contains many of the greatest arcana, of the ancient theology; respecting gods and dæmons, their cultivation and commerce, and the conjunction of the soul with divinity. It fully solves all the doubts concerning the impassivity of a divine nature; demonstrates its omnipresence, and never-failing energy; shews that we are continually surrounded with its light; and that all the divinities subsist in indivisible union, and indissoluble consent. There is an excellent Greek and Latin edition of this work, published, with copious notes, by the learned Gale: and it is greatly to be wished, though but little to be expected, that it was once translated into English, accompanied with a philosophical comment, which might both disclose its beauties, and reveal the sacred mysteries it contains.

Among the lost writings of Iamblichus, respecting theology, we may reckon in the first place, three books, concerning the physics, ethics, and theology of arithmetic: or φυσικὰ ἠθικὰ και Θεολογούμενα Ἀριθμητικῆς. These three books, form the fifth, sixth, and seventh, of a great work by Iamblichus, in ten books, entitled, a collection of the Pythagoric dogmata. And the seventh book, Fabricius thinks is still extant.

2. Concerning the gods. From this work the emperor Julian derived most of the dogmata contained in his elegant oration to the sun.

3. Commentaries on the Parmenides, Timæus and Phædo of Plato. The inestimable value of the first and second of these commentaries is sufficiently evident from the frequent mention made of them by Proclus, in his writings on these dialogues; and from the admirable passages contained in them, which he has fortunately preserved.

4. Concerning the perfection of the Chaldaic philosophy. The twenty-seventh book of this great work, is cited by Damascius, in his MS. treatise περὶ ἀρχῶν: and this whole discourse was studied with avidity by Proclus, and enabled him as we are informed by Marinus, to ascend to the very summit of theurgic virtue. And thus much for the works of Iamblichus relative to the Platonic theology.

But here we may observe with wonder how the deepest mysteries of this theology, became more and more explicitly unveiled, in proportion as the Roman empire was hastening to its dissolution; and Christianity to an universal establishment. Though the works of Plotinus and Porphyry contain all the arcana of theology, yet they contain them occultly and concisely. Their depth is in a great measure latent, and their fire condensed. But in Iamblichus we find greater copiousness and precision: theology is rendered more easy of access, and her light is more widely diffused. The profundity of barbarian theology is more accurately explored, and its consent with that of Pythagoras and Plato more abundantly and distinctly evinced. We find in his works, mystery united with bright evidence, religion with sublime philosophy, and science with divine illumination. Now this difference in the mode of unveiling the Platonic theology, is perfectly agreeable to the state of the Roman empire, and the new religion, at the periods when these modes were adopted. In the times of Plotinus and Porphyry, when Galienus, and Dioclesian swayed the sceptre of the world, Rome was in the middle of her course to destruction and Christianity had nearly accomplished one half of her journey to ecclesiastical empire. However as neither the fall of Rome, nor the establishment of Christianity, were then absolutely certain, these philosophers were cautious in disclosing all, that a baser period might require. This period Iamblichus was destined to see approach under the reign of the emperor Constantine; when the new religion was established, and the old treated with ridicule and contempt. Indeed the new religion had no sooner ascended the throne, and assumed the reins of arbitrary power, but she was surrounded with myriads of unphilosophic converts, and in her progress to despotism, drew after her the capital of Rome; and at once fixed the destruction of its ancient empire. And thus we may see that the writings of Iamblichus were perfectly correspondent to the depravity of the times.

The most celebrated disciple of Iamblichus, appears to have been one Œdesius a Cappadocian, who was of noble birth; but, as is generally the case with philosophers, possessed but a slender estate. According to Eunapius who wrote his life, he was not much inferior to Iamblichus, except in a divine afflatus, which seems to have been peculiar to that illustrious hero. To Œdesius we may add Maximus and Dexippus, both disciples of Iamblichus; and frequently cited by Simplicius in his elaborate commentary on the predicaments of Aristotle. But here we must regret, that none of the immediate successors of Iamblichus, contributed any thing to the advancement of the ancient theology. They reverenced indeed the arduous flights, and divine genius of their master; but never attempted even to imitate, what they could not equal, and were content to gravel without presuming to soar. The iniquitous times indeed of the emperor Constantine, may afford a reasonable apology for the decay of genius, and the langour of philosophy. The destructive rod of ecclesiastical empire was already extended; and its lethargic influence was already felt on the active spirit of liberal investigation. Religious faction had now started from the bosom of delusion; and holy persecution, was hastening from the infernal seats, to massacre the nations, and deluge Europe and Asia in blood. The peaceful and instructive disputes of philosophers, were now beginning to be exchanged for the jargon of orthodox and heterodox sectaries; and the calm voice of ancient theology, was silenced by the barbarous and tumultuous sounds, of Arian and Trinitarian clamours. This alarming change however, checked only for a short period, the generous ardour of the philosophic genius: for the æra was now at hand in which theology was destined to display the full blaze of her celestial light. Sacred zeal indeed presumed to hurl the darts of faith, against her venerable person: but her arm was destitute of vigour, and her weapons fell innocent to the ground. The buckler of true theology was not to be transpierced, by such imbecil darts; and the attempt was like that of weak old Priam, against the strong and youthful Pyrrhus.

But the order of discourse now brings us to a survey of the last branch of the theological tree, in which we may discover amidst numerous ramifications, and elegant foliage, exhaustless vigour, and luxuriant fruit. The source of this illustrious branch was the great Athenian Plutarch, of whom such honourable mention has been made, in the preceding life of Proclus[98]. To Plutarch succeeded Syrianus and Olympiodorus; and to these Hermeas and Proclus. It was by the labours of this last philosophical hero, that theology received the consummation of excellence, and exhibited diffused elegance, combined with majesty and strength. This will be evident from perusing his life, and studying his more abstruse writings, among which the following elements may be deservedly ranked. Though Marinus as we have observed in the life of Proclus, was his immediate successor, yet Asclepiodotus the master of Damascius, was his best disciple; and was most capable of receiving the exuberant streams of wisdom, which vigorously flowed from his philosophic mind. After Asclepiodotus an illustrious series of philosophers succeeded, who terminated the golden chain of Platonists, and were the last advocates for the dignity of ancient wisdom and theology. These great men were Zenodotus, Severianus, Ammonius Hermias, Hierius, Asclepius, Simplicius, Isidorus, Damascius, Diogenes, Eulalius and Priscian. But of all these, none except Damascius, appears to have contributed any thing to the perfection of theology: for the works of the rest consist for the most part in excellent commentaries on Aristotle; but Damascius, in his book, on principles, has preserved a most valuable store of recondite wisdom, and unfolded some of the sublimest mysteries of ancient theology. This inestimable work is however still in manuscript, and is not likely in the present age to emerge from its shameful concealment.

Seven of the preceding illustrious heroes, who were united by friendship as well as philosophy, Damascius the Syrian, Simplicius of Cilicia, Eulalius the Phrygian, Priscian the Lydian, Hermias and Diogenes of Phœnicia, and Isidorus of Gaza, disgusted with the religion of their sovereign Justinian, determined to seek from Chosroes the Persian king, that liberty of conduct which their native country denied. Chosroes though a barbarian, was deeply skilled in the philosophy of Plato and Aristotle; and was so imbued with the dogmata of Plato, that not one of his abstruse dialogues escaped his penetrating genius. The ill success however of these philosophers in their journey to Persia, gives us reason to suspect that the philosophic attainments of Chosroes, were influenced more by pride than the love of truth: and that he affected the name without possessing the requisites of a sage. The return of these philosophers was precipitate, and their disappointment extreme. They derived however a considerable advantage from their expedition; and the conduct of Chosroes in this particular will confer immortal honour on his character and name. He was the means of procuring for the seven sages, an exemption from the barbarous penal laws of Justinian against the Pagans; and thus enabled them to end their days in security and peace, and in the enjoyment of that liberty of conscience which no religion before the Christian, ever attempted to destroy.

The reign of Justinian, indeed, as it firmly established the Christian religion, terminated the glorious empire of philosophy, by suppressing the schools of Athens, and suspending the ecclesiastical sword over the heads of heathen theologists. But the fall of philosophy was naturally succeeded by the darkness of delusion and ignorance; by the spirit of wild fanaticism, and intolerant zeal; by the loss of courage and virtue; and by the final dissolution of the empire of the world, She was ruined indeed but not without revenge. War, pestilence, and famine, were the scourges of a prince who had presumed to demolish her schools, and intercept the diffusion of her sacred light: and his reign was disgraced by an irreparable decrease of mankind, in the most fertile regions of the earth. We may add too that his dominions were alarmed with the dreadful blaze of two mighty comets, whose malignant light foretold approaching calamities and war; and signified perhaps the establishment of religious anarchy, and the commencement of barbarous impiety and folly. And to complete this catalogue of prodigies and desolation, every year of his reign was marked with violent earthquakes of uncommon duration, and incredible extent. The whole surface of the Roman empire was agitated with horrid internal convulsions; and enormous chasms were formed by the earth’s strong vibrations. Large bodies were discharged into the air, and the sea concurring in the general ruin, overflowed or deserted its natural bounds, by alternately advancing and retreating with accumulated majesty and strength: and a mountain was torn from Libanus, and hurled into the waves, amidst the dreadful tossings of the deep. History after this period exhibits nothing but religious dissensions, despicable councils, and bigoted sects; the enmity of saints, and the discord of Nestorians and Jacobites, Maronites and Armenians, Copts and Abyssinians. Religious war, and pious rebellion succeeded to philosophical theory; and Nestor and Cyril led the confused and clamorous dance of ecclesiastical disputation.

It would neither be consistent with the design of this history, pleasing to the author, nor entertaining to the Platonic reader to trace the rapid increase of barbarism and ignorance, after the abolition of the Athenian and Alexandrian schools. It will be sufficient to observe that the jargon of innumerable sects, established a tyranny unknown to the Pagan world, the tyranny of religious despotism; and finally extirpated from the earth, the dominion of ancient wisdom and virtue. From the incredible multitude of different persuasions, Christianity lost all appearance of a revelation; and by the conduct of its professors, seemed rather calculated to confound than illuminate mankind. The same infatuated spirit has indeed marked its progress to the present day; and we find that in proportion as this baneful zeal prevails, knowledge retires, virtue droops, and magnanimity is destroyed: hypocrisy becomes the substitute for generosity; and whining cant succeeds the decent confidence, inspired by genuine dignity and worth. As the rapidity of a river is increased by the contraction of its channel; so its vigour is diminished by the multiplication of its streams. In a similar manner, the influence of any religion is lessened, when it is divided into various streams of opinion, by the discord of party, and the zeal of profession. The energy of the whole is lost by diffusion; and the river of the Church is weakened by the numerous and narrow rivulets of Dissenters. Experience unfortunately shews, that the professors of a national religion, are generally men of greater integrity, than those who compose the dissenting sects; and the fact may be supported by a rational theory. The trifling employments, groveling cares, and contemptible fame which are necessarily connected with religious dissension, unavoidably debilitate the mind, and contract the heart. The whole attention is engrossed in regarding the little concerns, and supporting the narrow opinions of a party; and that strength of understanding, and integrity of character, which are requisite to acquire eminence in science and virtue, are lost in imbecile exertions and hypocritical cant. It is on this account that I should prefer a dissenter in Scotland, and a papist in France, to a dissenter and catholic in England: for in those countries they cease to be sectaries, and may consequently in some degree become virtuous and wise.

It seems at first sight surprising that there should be no sects among the Grecian polytheists: they were unanimous in their belief of a multitude of gods subordinate to one supreme: their mode of worship was uniformly the same; and they appear to have had no conception of religious innovation. Shall we say that a religion is false in proportion to its unity; that truth may be branched out into an endless variety of discordant streams; and that error alone resists the power of copious and confused division? Such a speculation is indeed curious, but not safe; and its result would perhaps be more logical than orthodox, and more informing than discreet! Let us therefore direct our attention, to a more important subject, and consider the excellence of the Christian religion with respect to the commercial interests of mankind. That Christianity is not favourable to philosophy (I mean that of the ancients) is evident from its causing the destruction of the ancient schools; which it has not yet restored, though more than a thousand years have elapsed since their dissolution. Indeed the wisdom of a sage, is not likely to coincide with the doctrine of a fisherman; and implicit faith, ills suits with liberal doubt, and severe investigation. However, the spirit of meekness, which Christianity so admirably inculcates, though opposite to the dignity of philosophy, promotes the humility of merchandize, and facilitates the emoluments of trade. It enables men to suppress their passions from considerations of interest; teaches them to refer every thing to private advantage; and to consider magnanimity as a dangerous and arrogant virtue. It is to this spirit, that we must ascribe the great extent of commerce, in all the civilized parts of the world; and that Europe is much richer, though less wise than of old. The spirit of meekness by gradually suppressing the noble ardour of ancient heroism, and withdrawing the attention from abstract investigations, as daring and presumptuous, has given birth to innumerable discoveries in the arts, unknown to the speculative genius of antiquity. Hence the luxuries of life have received an immense improvement; and the spirit of meekness though not calculated to soar, has wandered over the surface of the earth, and diffused its humble blessings even to the remote regions of the poles. Penetrating and smooth, it has crept like oil, through the communities of mankind; and increased the activity, by lubricating the joints of the flexible body of Commerce. As oil too allays the fury of the sea, and calms its agitated waves; so meekness suppresses the effervescence of desire, restrains the restless spirit of enquiry, and calms the impetuosity of genius. Hence though we are no longer surprised with the daring exploits, and prodigious talents which distinguished the ancient world, yet we can boast a greater uniformity of character, a more general equality in moderate attainments, and a more interested spirit. In consequence of this universal mediocrity, our capacity for commerce increased, and our abilities enlarged, for accumulating wealth by groveling pursuits. But the most important advantage acquired by the spirit of meekness, is that mentioned by the great apostle of the Gentiles, “of becoming all things to all men.” The benefits indeed which such a pliability of temper confers on a commercial kingdom, compose so great a part of the arcana of traffic, that revelation alone could have made mankind sensible of their importance. Meekness like Proteus assumes every possible appearance which the interest of concealment may require; and philosophy alone can trace it, through its multiform shapes, and vanquish its transforming power.

But though we excel the ancients in the virtue of meekness, and its attendant arts, we are infinitely below them in the cultivation of intellectual philosophy. By the invention of the microscope and telescope, we have indeed discovered the structure of the subtile parts of body, and beheld stars invisible to the ancient world. Hence our knowledge of particulars has received, and is continually receiving an immense increase: but we forget that particulars are infinite, and that while they produce the fleeting fabric of opinion, they are incapable of forming the steady and permanent basis of science. The doctrine of causes, was the object of ancient investigation: the enumeration of effects is the busy employment of the moderns. Experimental inquiries have enabled the philosopher of the present day to solve partial phænomena, and to deceive the importunities of doubt by the intervention of secondary causes. However, arguments derived from the modifications of matter, can only satisfy superficial enquirers; and will be indignantly rejected, by the profound and contemplative genius. So far from deriving any illumination by accumulated experiments, the professors of this philosophy confess their ignorance of principles; and neglect their investigation under the specious pretext of declining hypotheses. On the contrary the philosophers of antiquity impelled by intellectual dignity and strength, ascended to principles, as the pillars of the universe, and the sources of conviction and repose. Hence they glorified in asserting and vindicating the capacious powers of the soul: and by severe investigation, experienced the serene splendours of knowledge, and banished the anxieties of doubt. The intellectual philosophy refines the morals while it enlightens the mind, and improves the heart while it exalts the powers of imagination and thought. On the contrary the mechanical philosophy produces opposite consequences, by introducing the darkness of ignorance, and debasing the energies of the soul.

But there cannot I think be a more egregious instance of the barren state of philosophy at present, than the prevailing opinion that the most valuable knowledge is derived from common life, and the general conduct of mankind. The manners of the multitude, so far from affording any really valuable information, exhibit nothing but specimens of folly and vice, astonishingly various, and differently combined. A knowledge of this kind may indeed be necessary to the man who wishes to accumulate wealth, and acquire popular honours; but is infinitely remote from the possession of true wisdom, and the true cultivation of human understanding. The best, as well as the most exalted knowledge, is as we have already proved[99], that which is desirable for its own sake; which confers felicity on its possessor, and gives a final respite to the arduous labour of mental investigation. The knowledge of common things, is alone the province of common, or uncultivated minds; and men of great genius in every age, have been distinguished by their happy ignorance of the trifling pursuits, and empty attainments of the vulgar. Indeed he who mixes much with the multitude, necessarily imbibes false opinions and engages in puerile occupations: the strength and activity of his mind, is continually weakened, or unworthily exerted, by a general diffusion; and he at length loses all that intellectual energy, which nature first implants, but retirement calls forth into the blossoms of elegance, and the perfection of vigor.

The late Dr. Johnson is a striking instance of the truth of these observations; and a lasting example of the wretchedness of a mind unenlightened by philosophy. His talents were indeed vast and uncommon, but degraded by false cultivation and ruined through neglect. Hence he employed himself solely on subjects of vulgar speculation and thought deeply on nothing but the vices and follies of the illiterate and the base. Like a giant in the dark, his strokes were indeed powerful, but often ineffectual; and were never directed by the hand of wisdom, or assisted by the irradiations of truth. Thus he constantly displayed strength without skill, and exertion without knowledge, abilities without genius, and grandeur without a grace. He appears to resemble indeed nothing so much as the eyeless Polypheme. Deprived of the cheering light of science and philosophy, he wandered in the caverns of sense, wretched through the want of sight, and avoided by the timid multitude who trembled at his strength. To approach him too near was generally destructive of the order of society, and often fatal to the peace of bold but ignorant individuals.

His piety too as well as his literary talents shews how little of felicity is to be expected where philosophy is wanting. For though he professed to believe in the immortality of the soul, he was a perpetual slave to the dread of death: and though he was continually exercised in the externals of religion, he could find no consolation when alone. There is nothing indeed whose certainty is so generally admitted in discourse as the soul’s immortality; and yet nothing at present is so generally disbelieved. For I will not disgrace the word belief, by supposing it possible that a man can be firmly assured of this important truth, and yet continually seek for arguments in defence of its reality. This is however the case with modern believers. They profess reverence for the decisions, and faith in the doctrines of revelation; but are glad to seek for conviction in the arguments of philosophy. Faith is found sufficient to support the mind, while it reclines on the bosom of the church, or clings round the pillars of orthodox opinion. But when it is once shaken by enquiry and staggered by doubt; when it leaves the enchanted enclosure of faith, and ventures on the wide ocean of enquiry; it can alone find security in the harbour of reason, and rest in the embraces of philosophy.

Dr. Johnson is however celebrated by his female biographer as “a man good beyond the imitation of mortals.” As if goodness could ever reside in a soul perpetually harassed with fears, and agitated with passion; distracted with the prospects of futurity, and afraid of retiring into itself. Is it not ridiculous to suppose that a consciousness of virtue and worth can ever be combined with misery and fear; or that the steady and serene light of truth can ever dwell enshrined in the gloom of despondence, or beam through a mind disturbed and clouded with care? “The good man says Plotinus is ever tranquil and serene, undisturbed by passion, and superior to grief:” and that religion is but of little worth, which confers on its votary nothing but the torments of anxiety from consciousness of inward folly or vice; and the dread of dissolution from the uncertainty of its result. We may rest assured that no one can be truly worthy who is wretched in himself: for to be truly good is to resemble the divinity: and to suppose that misery can be combined with such a character, is to ascribe imperfection to deity, and unhappiness to the fountain of good. For the exemplar cannot be contrary to its image, though it may be infinitely superior in excellence and dignity of nature.

And thus much for a history of the restoration of the Platonic theology by the latter Platonists. I only add, that I am in no respect a debtor to the gratitude of the public: for my writings hitherto, have neither been attentively studied, nor liberally received. Solely influenced by the love of truth, I have endeavoured to disseminate the wisdom of Greece, and to draw aside the mystic veil of recondite theology: but experience has convinced me that the period of philosophy is past; and that some fortunate revolution can alone restore its fallen honours, and establish its original sway. Should the present work survive the literary wreck, which will probably precede the revival of philosophy, I shall consider myself amply rewarded for the toil of its execution: and I am not ashamed of owning, that the pleasing hopes of such an event have inspired me with the patience and vigour requisite to so laborious an undertaking. In short whatever may be its immediate or future success, my views have been liberal in the publication, and my mental advantages considerable from the study of ancient philosophy. Amidst the various storms of a life distinguished by outrage and disease, it has been a never-failing support, and an inviolable retreat. It has smoothed the brow of care, and dispelled the gloom of despondence; sweetened the bitterness of grief, and lulled agony to rest. After reaping such valuable advantages from its acquisition, I am already rewarded, though my labours should be unnoticed by the present and future generation. The lyre of true philosophy is no less tuneful in the desert than in the city; and he who knows how to call forth its latent harmony in solitude, will not want the testimony of the multitude to convince him that its melody is extatic and divine.

ELEMENTS

OF

THEOLOGY[100].