There were occasional imperial edicts against astrologers, it is true, and even sporadic persecution of them. But the explanation of such measures is belief, not scepticism, and they denote not disbelief in the art itself but disapproval of the use to which it was put — such as revealing the fate of the present and the name of the coming ruler. Almost every emperor had an astrologer at his court, and the historians of the period delighted in telling stories of astrologers who foretold their own deaths, or of monarchs who in vain attempted to thwart the decrees of fate.[150] Alexander Severus is said to have founded chairs of astrology salaried by the state and with provision for scholarships for students.[151] Occasional persecution perhaps made the mathematici more highly valued, and the jibes of the satirists against astrologers and their followers attest rather than disprove the popularity of the art. Pliny the Elder and Tacitus asserted its great currency.[152]
The best science of the Empire reflected to a considerable extent these superstitions sanctioned by public opinion, as our discussion of Seneca and Ptolemy will indicate in some detail. For the present we may observe how the great Galen — whose authority reduced to a single school the many quarreling medical sects of his day, was later implicitly accepted by the Arabs, and then dominated European medicine to the time of Paracelsus — was not above astrological medicine or the use of fantastical remedies. He displayed trust in amulets and believed that such things as the ashes of frogs or “hippocampi” have remedial power.[153] He held that the critical days of disease are largely influenced by the moon, and affirmed that we receive “the force of all the stars above.”[154] It should be noted moreover that in one passage, in giving expression to his zeal for astronomy as the handmaid of the healing art, Galen accused many physicians of paying no attention to the stars. But he asserted that in this neglect they were no true followers of the great Hippocrates, whom they extolled but never imitated, for Hippocrates had maintained that astronomy had no small bearing on the art of the physician and that geometry was its indispensable precursor.[155]
Philosophy as well as science was not unfavorable to some varieties of magic. Neo-Platonism, the most prominent school of philosophy in the Empire, probably led men on to belief in magic more than any previous classical system. Nature was looked upon as real only in so far as it was soul, and its process were regarded as the expression of the world-soul’s mysterious working. The investigation of nature thus tended to become an inquiry concerning spirits and demons, a study into the strange and subtle relations existing between things united, as all things are, by bonds of spiritual sympathy. True, the earlier Alexandrines are said to have condemned magic arts,[156] but we have seen that such condemnation need not amount to much. Plotinus attacked only the most extreme pretensions of astrology, and was ready to grant that the stars were celestial characters and signs of the future. He even conceded that prediction might be made from birds. But to him astrology and augury seemed of comparatively small importance, for he believed everything to be joined to and dependent upon every other thing and that in any object the wise man might see signs of everything else.[157] Succeeding Neo-Platonists, at any rate, were often devoted to magic. The name of Iamblichus, for instance, is one of the most prominent in the field of the occult.
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.
150
A. Bouché Leclercq. “L’Astrologie dans le monde romain.”
152
153
Carolus Gottlob Kuhn.
154
157
Ricardus Volkmann,
See
159
160
Apuleius may have been guilty of attempting to practice magic. Certainly he believed in its possibility. He affirmed the existence of subordinate gods, or demons, — interpreters and ambassadors between mankind and the superior gods, who live far away from us and have no direct concern with our affairs. The demons, he believed, were susceptible to human influence and capable of working marvels. He stated that the art of" divination was due to them. See his
161
162
See Philo’s treatise