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by this means to gain a satisfactory certainty of religious conviction, which the decaying popular faith could not impart. On this account they applied to the most prevalent philosophical systems of antiquity which appeared most nearly allied to religious belief. There were particularly two such systems, the Platonic and the Stoic.

But Stoicism could not meet their wants, for it gave them no pledge of full satisfaction, but required their suppression, and a denial of those deeply-implanted wishes belonging to a soul thirsting for eternal life, which pass beyond the bounds of a transitory earthly existence and strive to meet the communications of an eternal love. That comfortless resignation to the iron necessity of an inexorable fate manifested in the circle of the world's development, which required the sacrifice of all individual personal existence, could only satisfy the cold understanding, not the warm, feeling heart. Whoever had not suppressed the voice of nature in himself by the overweight of sophistical thinking could not accede to what was here demanded by the philosopher, to look forward to death in quiet resignation, without knowing anything of the future, when he was left in uncertainty whether the soul perished with the body or would still continue to live some time longer; and the final end was held out that his own personal existence, like every man's, and that of the gods themselves, would be absorbed in the one universal spirit from which everything which formed life proceeded, again to be swallowed up and destroyed.

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There is great beauty in the remarks of St. Augustin on that stand-point of an apathy formed by the suppression of the natural feelings and cravings.* It makes a great difference whether the insensibility proceed from health or from numbness; for in this state of mortality a sound body suffers pain if it be pricked, and so it is with the soul that possesses a sound constitution for this life. But the body

* Interest ergo utrum aliquid sanitate, an stupore non doleat. Nam secundum sanitatem hujus mortalitatis sana caro cum pungitur dolet. Qualis est et animus secundum istam vitam bene affectus, qui compunctus laborantis miseria, condolescit misericordia. Caro autem graviore morbo stupida, vel amisso etiam spiritu mortua, nec cum pungitur dolet; qualis est istorum animus, qui sine Deo philosophantur, vel potius præfocantur. -Aug. Serm. 348. (Ben. v, p. 1344.)

benumbed by severe illness, or dead and forsaken by the breath, feels no pain even when pricked. So it is with the souls of those who philosophize without God." And in another passage he says, "Health has no feeling of sickness, but yet it feels pain when it is wounded. But stupidity feels no pain; it has lost the feeling of pain; and the more insensible, so much the worse. Again, immortality has no room for pain; for all that was transitory has passed away, and the corruptible has put on incorruption, 1 Cor. xv. 53. There is no pain, therefore, to the immortal-no pain to the insensible body. Let not the insensible fancy that it is already immortal. The healthfulness of those that feel pain is nearer immortality than the insensibility of those that do not feel it. So thou findest a man full of pride, who persuades himself that nothing is to be feared. Dost thou hold such an one to be stronger than he who said, 'without were fightings, and within were fears?' (2 Cor. vii. 5); or stronger than our Lord himself, who said, 'My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death?' He is not stronger; rejoice not in that insensibility. Such an one has not put on immortality, but put off feeling. Wish not to have a passionless soul, but say in the feeling of health, Who is weak and I am not weak? Who is offended and I burn not?' (2 Cor. xi. 29.) If he had not been so moved by the offence of that weak brother, would he have been better because destitute of feeling and pain? Away with this! It would be insensibility, not true rest. For when we reach our heavenly fatherland, where our souls will find full security, there they will be filled with rest and eternal blessedness; there will be no pain, and no cause of pain."

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The influence of the Platonic philosophy on the religious life was far deeper and more widely felt. This formed then, as it has done in later times, for many persons, a transitionpoint from unbelief to belief in Christianity. By means of it an ardent longing was awakened, but which, not having a distinct conception of its proper object and aim, fluctuated with unsteady restlessness. When in sadness of heart the self-questioner exclaimed, "What is the drop of my existence in the boundless ocean of the infinite! what is man that God should be mindful of him!" this philosophy gave no consolatory answer; to the wish that would fain believe,

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it gave no firm anchor for connection with heaven, no elevating power to soar to the super-mundane. True, it led man to the consciousness of possessing an intellectual and moral nature, rising above time and allied to the divine; but it could not give birth to an undoubting consciousness of a personal existence, maturing into a state of moral perfection, and the enjoyment of untroubled blessedness. All that it gave was the doctrine of a soul, in its nature exalted above change and dissolution, changing the form of manifesting its existence without the recollection of its earlier states,— the doctrine that souls which, in this temporal life, had attained a certain stage of virtue and wisdom, after their separation from the body would be exalted for a very long period to a divine supersensual life, in order, after the lapse of this long period, again to be reduced by the power of fate to union with an earthly body. By such a doctrine no satisfaction could be administered to natures more practical than speculative. The needs of most men required a certain firm support of faith, an anchor which would enter into the invisible sanctuary which the soul, in virtue of its destiny for heaven, and its nature, originally allied to the divine though estranged from God by sin, felt compelled to seek. How powerfully these needs pressed upon men in that age, is testified by the memorable words of the heathen philosopher, in the third century, who used every effort, in order, by the Hellenic religion as artificially revived by a mystical Platonism, to satisfy these needs in a deceptive manner, and by this deception to keep men at a distance from Christianity, towards which they were impelled by the urgency of these needs. In his introduction to his collection (formed with this design) of the heathen oracles (both genuine and spurious), Porphyry says: The uses of this collection will be best known by those who, longing after the truth, have previously prayed that a divine manifestation might be granted to them, in order that they might attain repose from their doubts, by instruction endowed with trustworthy authority." This want of the religious principle so strongly felt by many, and yet unsatisfied, procured for persons who boasted of a connexion with the invisible world, and certain higher powers communicated to them, a ready introduction, and great influence in those times. Many individuals, who could

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attain no firm and satisfactory convictions by means of the contending systems of the philosophers, and the powers of their own reason, sought for communications from the invisible world by means of necromancers and the conductors of awful mysteries. In a fictitious narrative, which was perhaps a production of the second century, we find a vivid delineation of the inquiring minds of that age, which certainly was drawn from the life. Let us listen how a distinguished Roman of the apostolic age, Clement, afterwards bishop of Rome, here represents the history of his inner life: I, Clement, was able to pass my first years in a moral course, since the thoughts that followed me from childhood called me off from pleasure to sorrow and exertion; for there dwelt in me, I know not whence it came, the thoughts which reminded me frequently of death, that after death I should not be, and then no one would think of me, for eternity would involve all things in oblivion. When did the world begin, and what was there before the world? Was it from eternity? Then it would last to eternity. If it was brought into existence, then also it would at some time perish. And what would be again after its dissolution, unless perhaps the stillness of death and oblivion (that comfortless idea which is found in several of the oriental systems of religion, that the changing forms of individual existence will at last be dissolved into an unconscious All-thus universal death will be the ultimate result-all existence will become an unreal spectre), and perhaps something may then be which now I cannot conceive of.

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Lost incessantly in these and similar thoughts, I knew not whence, I so tortured myself, that I became pale and emaciated. And what was more dreadful than all, when I longed to throw off this anxiety from me as useless, my sufferings became more intense. I was indignant at this, not being aware that the thoughts that filled my mind, would be a blessed guide to a happy immortality, as I afterwards found by experience, for which I thank the Almighty; for through those thoughts which at first tortured me, I was compelled to seek for the truth, and at last succeeded in finding it, and when I had found it I pitied those whom before I had ignorantly pronounced fortunate.

"As from childhood I had been occupied with such

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thoughts, I visited the school of the philosophers, in order to attain some certain knowledge, and found there nothing but the building up and pulling down of systems, a confused strife of opinions. For example, sometimes the opinion triumphed, that the soul was immortal, at other times that it was mortal. In the first instance I rejoiced, in the second I was troubled, and at last nothing fixed remained in my soul. When I perceived that things did not appear as they really were, but as were represented by men, my mental confusion was worse than ever. I sighed from the depths of my soul, for I could gain nothing fixed, and yet I could not free myself from their speculations, although I wished, as I said before; for though I often imposed silence on myself, yet I knew not how it came to pass that such thoughts again found their way into my mind, and I felt pleasure in them. "Involved in fresh doubt, I asked myself why I troubled myself in vain, since the matter was clear. If after death I shall cease to be, I need not trouble myself about it while I live. I will rather defer my anxiety for that time when I shall cease to be, and therefore be unable to feel anxious. And then another thought intruded, for I said to myself,'Perhaps I shall suffer then something worse than my present anxiety, in case I have not led a pious life, and if, according to the doctrine of some philosophers, I am delivered to eternal punishment!' I then rejoined, But it is not so;' and then again I said,― But if it should be so?' Since, therefore, the matter is uncertain, it is the surest way for me to lead a pious life. And looking at an uncertain hope, how shall I be able, in order to will what is good, to conquer the sensual desires? Nor have I a confident conviction what is good and well-pleasing to God. I know not whether the soul be mortal or immortal; I can find no certain doctrine, and yet cannot rest satisfied with such thoughts.

What must I do now? I will travel into Egypt to make friends with the Hierophants and Prophets of the Mysteries; I will seek out a magician, and when I have found one, I will induce him by a large sum of money to raise a spirit for me, as if I wished to question him respecting some worldly matter; but my question shall relate to the immortality of the soul. I shall not wait for the answer of the spirit, but his look, his appearance, will be to me a