Abolitionists adopted higher law to oppose the settled law which explicitly recognized chattel slavery in America. Emerson sometimes spoke on higher law but it was not his most comfortable position. Emerson was a Neoplatonist, and it is the gradualism of Neoplatonism that he embraced against the immediatism implied in higher law. But even before Emerson’s 1856 conversion to abolition, starting in 1854 Emerson began moving his self-reliance into Northern-reliance. He was working his way philosophically toward a political activism that he would, finally, enthusiastically embrace. Emerson borrowed from the Neoplatonist Plotinus the word and idea of living “amphibiously,” and that is what he learned to do.

This chapter examines the notion of being in the Consolation of Philosophy and contrasts it with modern notions of existence. The notions in the Consolation relevant to this inquiry are those expressed by the verbs esse and exsistere. The chapter argues that the basic notion of exsistere in the Consolation should be understood as “to be manifest,” while the basic notion of esse should be understood as “to be something or other” or “to be intelligible.” Furthermore, the chapter demonstrates that the notion of esse in the Consolation differs from typical modern notions of existence in two significant ways. First, unlike modern notions of existence, according to which there are things that do not exist, the notion of esse or being in the Consolation has no contrary. Everything that can be spoken of or thought about “is” in some way. Second, the notion of esse in the Consolation, as in Aristotle, is “said in many ways.” In this it differs from modern notions of existence, which tend to be univocal. The chapter shows that once the notions of exsistere and esse are properly understood, certain arguments in the Consolation that might initially appear confused turn out to be quite clear and highly plausible.

Reading the Consolatio, it is possible to come away with the impression that the consolation Boethius sought while imprisoned was provided by philosophy as opposed to Christian faith. This impression has led some to doubt Boethius’ commitment to Christianity. The idea that there is a tension between Boethius’ Christianity and philosophy is not new, although scholarly disagreement over its significance has increased over the past hundred years. This chapter reviews the history of the debate concerning Boethius’ Christianity in the Consolatio and argues that the problem of Boethius’ faith must be formulated not in terms of an opposition between Christianity and Greco-Roman philosophy, but as a particular feature of sixth-century Latin Christianity.

The Consolation presents two especially puzzling features that make its exegesis particularly challenging. Literarily, it adopts an uncommon style for a philosophical text, the prosimetrum, which combines prose with poetry. Content-wise, it develops a cogent philosophical message that, perplexingly, is conveyed in a labyrinthine way. These exegetical difficulties disappear if we interpret the Consolation as a form of self-examination grounded in Neoplatonic philosophy. The meandering way in which the text expresses its message illustrates Boethius’ inner conflict brought about by his sudden political fall. The root cause of his conflict is an unresolved tension within the Neoplatonic account of the human soul: the difficulty of reconciling our material self with our divine self. The Consolation’s highly unusual combination of prose and poetry is steeped in some of the basic principles of Neoplatonic pedagogy.

While it is common to compare Boethius’ philosophy with that of his intellectual predecessors and heirs, as far as I know there are no studies comparing Boethius and his most well-known Greek contemporary, Dionysius the Areopagite. Yet both were Christians who were inspired by Plato and deeply influenced by Proclean Neoplatonism. This chapter begins to fill this lacuna in the literature by comparing the way that Boethius in the Consolation of Philosophy and Dionysius in On Divine Names employ key Neoplatonic ideas and metaphors in speaking and thinking about God’s nature and providence. The chapter compares how Boethius and Dionysius employ Neoplatonic sphere and circle metaphors (1) to illustrate how God is both completely simple and yet also has, or rather is, a multiplicity of “attributes” or activities, and (2) to articulate the relationship between God and creatures in terms of remaining, proceeding, and reverting.

Boethius’ Consolation of Philosophy was one of the most influential texts in medieval Europe. Yet it does not receive enough attention in contemporary scholarship on medieval philosophy. This is in part explained by the content and literary form of the Consolation. The direct influence of Plato and late antique Neoplatonism, the dialogue form, the alternating prose and poetry sections, and the wealth of references to classical literature and mythology contrast sharply with the sort of texts most contemporary scholars of medieval philosophy focus on. The essays in this volume tackle these interpretive challenges and reveal some of the rich philosophical insights the Consolation offers. Chapters 1–3 directly address its literary features and their philosophical significance. Chapters 4 and 5 consider the relationship between the Consolation and Boethius’ Christianity. Chapters 6–8 offer three different takes on the philosophy of selfhood, or philosophical anthropology, so central to the Consolation. Chapters 9–13 deal with the more standard metaphysical and theological issues, such as Boethius’ accounts of goodness, being, God, time, eternity, and human freedom.

Recognition of Boethius’ Philosophia as allegorical personification is critical for understanding the positive portrayal given her in the Consolatio. It explains the elaborate identifying markers given in metaphorical reference to the lady as nurse, physician, and teacher. It also helps to explain her ontological status as a source of inspiration for “the prisoner.” This chapter notes her pedagogical strategy in consolation for a patient and compassionate approach, demonstrating feminine qualities that effectively balance the rigorous argument by which she finally moves the prisoner from despair to renewed hope and dignity.

This chapter considers whether and in what way Whichcote, More, Cudworth and Smith can be called ‘Platonists’. Was Platonism a part of the story they told about themselves, or that their contemporaries told about them, or is it simply an anachronistic label invented by modern scholarship? I argue that ‘Platonism’ was a live intellectual category in the Cambridge Platonists’ seventeenth-century philosophical and theological context and denoted a particular set of doctrinal positions which were associated with ancient Platonism, such as the primacy of God’s goodness over his will. The chapter also investigates evidence of a surge of interest in ancient and Renaissance Platonism at Cambridge in the latter half of the 1630s, centred at Emmanuel College, which included John Sadler, Peter Sterry and Laurence Sarson and also coincides with Henry More’s discovery of Platonism, and Cudworth’s early Platonic letters to John Stoughton. It is argued that these developments provide important context for the origins of Cambridge Platonism, and illuminate the ways in which Whichcote, More, Cudworth and Smith’s intellectual development was shaped by engagement with Platonic texts and ideas.

This book explores the shifting discourses of prophethood and prophecy in the late antique Near East. It rejects the “Cessation of Prophecy” metanarrative that frames prophecy as perpetually in decline, and charts instead a novel trajectory for understanding prophethood and prophecy as discourse. It does so by working through a number of texts from the late antique Near East, including Manichaean literature, the classical rabbinic corpus, early Jewish mystical literature, the Pseudo-Clementine Homilies, and Neoplatonic literature. It argues that we should read these communities’ developing notions of prophethood and revelation alongside and against one another, on the one hand, and within broader developments in the late antique Near East, on the other.

This chapter draws attention to a little-known text attributed to John Chrysostom, which has so far not aroused the interest of specialists in ancient divination and prophecy: the prologue to the commentary on the Book of Jeremiah, which nevertheless enjoyed a certain popularity in the Byzantine world. The prologue exposes a classification of forms of prophecy that has no notable parallel in patristic literature. A significant parallel can be established instead with the Neoplatonic theory of divination, as set forth for example in Iamblichus’ Response to Porphyry (De mysteriis). This parallel concerns in particular the hierarchy of the forms of predictive knowledge, as well as the relationship between demonic and natural prophecy/divination. An English translation and a commentary of the fragment concerning the prophecy is given.

This chapter re-examines the image of a canopied building supported by columns that often appears as the concluding page to the prefatory paratext to the gospels known as the Canon Tables, which was devised by Eusebius of Caesarea in the early fourth century. A catalogue of surviving examples of the so-called tholos image is provided, followed by an argument that the image is underdetermined and polyvalent, and that it operates together with the rest of the Canon Tables decorative scheme to invite an imaginative response from the viewer. The latter half of the chapter turns to two texts in Eusebius’ corpus to elucidate the way in which he used sacred architecture as a means of mapping the theological truths and ritual activities associated with such spaces. The same approach can be applied to the architectural decorative scheme adorning the Canon Tables, including its richly symbolic tholos, which can be seen as a potent symbol that can be activated through a biblically inspired ekphrasis and used as a ‘cognitive machine’ to theorise Christian knowledge and practice.

Sosipatra of Ephesus and Hypatia of Alexandria are the most prominent female philosophers and teachers of the Neoplatonic schools of late antiquity. However, none of their philosophical writings were passed down to us, so that – in recovering their thoughts – we depend on letters written to them and texts written about them. In these sources, Sosipatra and Hypatia appear to us as some kind of schisms, that is as historical figures on the one hand and as literary characters on the other hand, used by other authors to express their views on the philosophical life and the ideal way of living as a woman. This chapter will do justice to both aspects, unpacking what the sources allow us to conclude about the philosophical teaching of the historical Sospiatra and Hypatia and discussing how both characters are used by other Neoplatonists to convey certain ideals of femaleness.