BELIEF IN MAGIC IN THE EMPIRE
Having shown reason for believing that the _Natural History_ is a fairly
accurate mirror of the science of the past, we come now to examine
Pliny’s own age and to observe to what extent his attitude towards magic
was characteristic of it. “His own age,” I say, but this is only roughly
speaking, for it is the general period of the Roman Empire that we shall
now consider, with the exception of the closing century which we reserve
for later discussion. We shall have now to speak first of the general
attitude towards magic in the Empire, and then in particular of two or
three men or works that corroborate the rich evidence which Pliny, for
the most part unconsciously, gave of the place of magic in the
intellectual life of the time.
I. _General attitude._—At the start, just as in our discussion of the
_Natural History_, we find it necessary to distinguish the position of
men towards what they called “magic.” Pliny’s condemnation of the magi
and of all their beliefs as a matter of general principle was probably
the regular attitude. A stigma seems to have been attached to the word
“magic;” and magi seem to have been regarded as dangerous characters. In
his history Dio Cassius represents Mæcenas as warning Octavius Cæsar
that while the practice of divination is necessary, and augury by
sacrifices and flight of birds an art to be encouraged, magicians ought
to be entirely done away with. For, telling the truth in some cases but
lying in more, they incite many persons to revolt.[143] The prejudice in
the Empire against magic is further illustrated by the fact that pagan
and Christian controversialists seldom failed to impute to the opposing
religion the practice of this malign art.
Now and then some learned man like Eudoxus might hold that the doctrines
of the magi of Persia called for eulogy rather than reproach. Thus
Apuleius, in his _Defense_ against the accusation of magic brought
against him, explained that _magus_ in the Persian language was
equivalent to the Latin _sacerdos_ or priest, and that, among the four
greatest men of the realm selected to educate the heir to the Persian
throne, one had the task of instructing him in the magic of Zoroaster.
This magic dealt with “the rules of ceremonial, the due observance of
things sacred, the law of religious rites.”[144] It was the cult of the
gods.
Do you hear, you who rashly charge me with magic, that this art is
acceptable to the immortal gods, consists of celebrating and
reverencing them, is pious and prophetic, and long since was held by
Zoroaster and Oromagus, its authors, to be noble and divine? Nay, it
is included among the chief studies of royalty, and the Persians no
more think of rashly allowing any one to become a magician than to
become a king.[145]
But if his accusers mean magic in the popular sense, that is, Apuleius
grants, a different matter.
Even educated men, however, probably more often, like Pliny, regarded
the magi as all one with other magicians. Philostratus, in his life of
Apollonius of Tyana, seems to approximate much closer to this position
than to that taken by Apuleius, although one would expect a biographer
of that mystic personage to view the magi with favor. Philostratus
declares that Apollonius was no magician, although he did associate with
the magi of Babylonia, the Brahmins of India, and the gymnosophists of
Egypt. For he was like Empedocles, Pythagoras, Democritus and Plato who
frequented those sects and yet did not embrace the (magic) art.[146]
Of what we should call magic, however, there was a plenty in the Roman
Empire, as in fact the words of Dio Cassius have indicated.[147] Besides
the general acceptance of divination there was a great deal of
superstitious medicine. There seems to be little room for doubt that
Pliny’s diatribes against the medical art were justifiable, and that his
own trust in marvelous medicinal properties of animals and plants was
often equalled. Men of the highest eminence in public life, whom one
would expect to have had at their disposal the best medical talent of
the time, are reported to have employed the most absurd remedies.
Suetonius tells us that the Emperor Augustus wore seal’s skin, his
successor Tiberius laurel leaves, as a protection against
lightning.[148] Pliny recounts how M. Servilius Nonianus, _princeps
civitatis_, fearing ophthalmia, had fastened to his neck a piece of
linen containing some paper on which were written the Greek letters Ρ
and Α. This was done before any mention of the disease was allowed to be
made to him or by him. Mucianus, thrice consul, carried a live fly
around in a bit of white linen for a similar purpose, and of course both
men attributed their escape from disease to these bizarre methods.[149]
Moreover, much magic has been supposed to have been involved in the
numerous Mysteries to which men sought initiation and in the Oriental
cults which became so popular. Astrology was seemingly as universally
cultivated as in the Middle Ages, and that, too, though perhaps in Roman
times it was in appearance less of a science and more of a superstition.
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 processes 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
Mæcenas 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 mediæval 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 mediæval 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
mediæval 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]
Seneca seems to regard scientific research as a sort of religious
exercise. His enthusiasm in the study of natural forces appears largely
due to the fact that he believes them to be of a sublime and divine
character, and above the petty affairs of men.
Indeed, the phenomena which he discusses are mainly meteorological
manifestations, such as winds, rain, hail, snow, comets, rainbows,
and—what he regards as allied subjects—earthquakes, springs and rivers.
Probably he would not have regarded the study of zoölogy or of
physiology as so sublime. At any rate he considers only a comparatively
few “natural questions,” and hence the amount and variety of belief in
magic which he has occasion to display is correspondingly limited.
It is evident enough, however, that Seneca by no means accepted magic as
a whole. He tells us that uncivilized antiquity believed that rain could
be brought on or driven away by incantations, but that to-day no one
needs a philosopher to teach him that this is impossible.[169] And,
although he affirms that living beings are generated in fire, believes
in some rather peculiar effects of lightning, such as removing the venom
from snakes which it strikes, and recounts the old stories of floating
islands and of waters with power to turn white sheep black, he is
sceptical about bathing in the waters of the Nile as a means of
increasing the female’s capacity for child-bearing.[170] He qualifies by
the phrases, “it is believed” and “they say,” the assertions that
certain waters produce foul skin-diseases and that dew in particular, if
collected in any quantity, has this evil property.[171] I imagine he did
not believe the story he repeats that the river Alphæus of Greece
reappears in Sicily as the Arethusa, and there every four years, on the
very days when the victims are slaughtered at the Olympian games, casts
up filth from its depths.[172] The themes Seneca discusses of course
afford him less opportunity for the taking up of the magic properties of
plants, animals and other objects, but he was probably less credulous in
this respect than Pliny, unless his pretensions are even more deceptive.
Seneca did believe, however, that whatever is caused is a sign of some
future event.[173] He accepts divination in all its ramifications. Only
he holds that each flight of a bird is not caused by direct act of God
nor the vitals of the victim altered under the axe by divine
interference, but that all has been arranged beforehand in a fatal and
causal series.[174] He believes that all unusual celestial phenomena are
to be looked upon as prodigies and portents.[175] But no less truly do
the planets in their unvarying courses signify the future. The stars are
of divine nature and we ought to approach the discussion of them with as
reverent an air as when with lowered countenance we enter the temples
for worship.[176] Not only do the stars influence our upper atmosphere
as earth’s exhalations affect the lower, but they announce what is to
occur.[177] Seneca employs the statement of Aristotle that comets
signify the coming of storms and winds and foul weather, to prove that
comets are stars; and declares that a comet is a portent of a storm in
the same way as the Chaldeans say that a star brings good or ill fate to
men at birth.[178] In fact, his chief, if not sole, objection to the
Chaldeans would seem to be that in their predictions they take into
account only five stars.
What? Think you so many thousand stars shine on in vain? What else,
indeed, is it which causes those skilled in nativities to err than
that they assign us to a few stars, although all those that are above
us have a share in the control of our fate? Perhaps those nearer
direct their influence upon us more closely; perhaps those of more
rapid motion look down on us and other animals from more varied
aspects. But even those stars that are motionless, or because of their
speed keep equal pace with the rest of the universe and seem not to
move, are not without rule and dominion over us.[179]
Seneca accepts a theory of Berosus, whose acquaintance we have already
made, that whenever all the stars are in conjunction in the sign of
Cancer there will be a universal conflagration, and a second deluge when
they all unite in Capricorn.[180]
It is on thunderbolts as portents of the future that Seneca dwells
longest, however. “They give,” he declares, “not signs of this or that
event merely, but often announce a whole series of events destined to
occur, and that by manifest decrees and ones far clearer than if they
were set down in writing.”[181] He will not, however, accept the theory
that lightning has such great power that its intervention nullifies any
previous and contradictory portents. He insists that divination by other
methods is of equal truth, though perhaps of minor importance and
significance. Next he attempts to explain how dangers of which we are
warned by divination may be averted by prayer, expiation or sacrifice,
and yet the chain of events wrought by destiny not be broken. He
maintains that just as we employ the services of doctors to preserve our
health, despite any belief we may have in fate, so it is useful to
consult a _haruspex_. Then he goes on to speak of various
classifications of thunderbolts according to the nature of the warnings
or encouragements which they bring.[182]
IV. _Ptolemy’s Tetrabiblos and astrology._—Astrology was more than a
popular belief which extended to men high in social rank and public
life; it was held by scientists as well, though naturally in a less
naïve and more scientific form. Nevertheless, the astrology of the
scientist might be of an extreme enough type and of a more clearly
magical variety than we were able to gather from Pliny, who, moreover,
does not seem to have been acquainted with any systematic doctrine of
the influence of the stars.
Such a systematized treatment Claudius Ptolemaeus set forth in the
little volume known as the _Tetrabiblos_, or _Quadripartitum_. It would
seem as if we ought to be able to regard a book by that noted geographer
and astronomer as an example of the best science of his time, the middle
of the second century. His works quickly became classics, and in the
third century Porphyry commented on the _Tetrabiblos_. The Arabs eagerly
accepted his writings, and it is generally held that in the Middle Ages
his word was law in all the subjects of which he treated. The
_Tetrabiblos_, therefore, would seem a landmark in the entire history of
astrology as well as a crucial instance of how that branch of magic
formed a part of science in the Roman Empire. True, Ptolemy does not
cover the whole field of sidereal influence. He limits himself to the
effects of the stars on man and does not attempt to trace out how they
affect all varieties of matter and of life upon our globe. However, to
make the stars control each individual man is the climax of astrology
and implies that the heavenly bodies govern everything else here on
earth. So the _Tetrabiblos_ is a very satisfactory instance of belief in
astrology by a scientist and its contents may well be briefly
considered.[183]
The first of the four books opens with the trite contention that the art
itself is not to be rejected because frequently abused by imposters, and
with the admission that even the skilful investigator often makes
mistakes owing to the incompleteness of human knowledge. In the first
place, our doctrine of the nature of matter rests, Ptolemy says, more on
conjecture than on certain knowledge. Secondly, old configurations of
the stars cannot be safely used as the basis of present-day predictions.
Indeed, so many are the different possible positions of the stars and
the different possible arrangements of terrestrial matter in relation to
the stars that it is difficult to collect enough instances on which to
base judgment. Moreover, such things as diversity of place, of education
and of custom must be reckoned with in foretelling the future of persons
born under the same stars. But although predictions frequently fail, yet
the art is not to be condemned any more than one rejects the art of
navigation because of frequent shipwrecks.
Thus far one might take Ptolemy for a well-balanced and accurate
scientist in the modern sense of the term, but he does not maintain this
level. After showing that it is useful to know the future and that
astrology does not depend on fatal necessity, he proceeds to explain why
the stars give knowledge of the future. This he intends to show from
natural causes: _ubique naturalium causarum rationem sequentes_. This
sounds well but his reasoning is superficial and childish, as his
discussion of the influence exercised by the planets will indicate.
In each planet one of the four elemental qualities predominates (or
perhaps two divide the supremacy) and endows the star with a peculiar
nature and power. The sun warms and, to some extent, makes dry, for the
nearer it comes to our pole the more heat and drought it produces. The
moon, on the contrary, causes humidity, since it is close to the earth
and gets the effect of vapors from the latter. Evidently the moon
influences other bodies in this way, rendering them soft and producing
putrefaction. It also warms a little owing to the light it receives from
the sun. Saturn, however, chills and, to some extent, dries, for it is
very far from the heat of the sun and the damp mists of the earth. Mars
emits a parching heat, as its color and proximity to the sun lead one to
infer. Jupiter, situated between cold Saturn and burning Mars, is of a
sort of lukewarm nature, but tends more to warmth and moisture than to
the other two qualities. So does Venus, but conversely, for it warms
less than Jupiter but makes moist more, since its large area catches
many damp vapors from the neighboring earth. In Mercury, situated near
the sun, moon and earth, neither drought nor dampness predominates; but
that planet, incited by its own velocity, is a potent cause of sudden
changes. In general, the planets are of good or evil influence according
as they abound in the two rich and vivifying qualities, heat and
moisture, or in the detrimental and destructive ones, cold and drought.
Ptolemy then goes on to discuss the powers of fixed stars. These powers
he would seem to make depend chiefly on the relation of the fixed star
to the planets or on its position in some constellation. Then he treats
of the influence of the seasons and of the four cardinal points, to each
of which he assigns some one predominating quality. A discussion of the
importance of such things as the twelve signs of the zodiac, the twelve
“houses,” the _Trigones_ (equilateral triangles each comprising three
signs of the zodiac), and the position of the star in reference to the
horizon, ends the first book and also the presentation of fundamental
considerations.
The other three books contain “doctrinam de praedictione singularium.”
The second book, however, deals in the main with four points of general
though subordinate bearing: under what stars different regions belong,
how the effects of the stars vary according to time as well as place,
how the heavenly bodies influence the nature of events, and finally how
they determine their quality, good or bad. The third and fourth books,
besides taking up separately the particular effects of each planet as it
enters into conjunction with each of the others, comprise chapters with
such headings as the following: “_de parentibus_,” “_de fratribus_,”
“_de masculis et femellis_,” “_de geminis_,” “_de natis qui nutrire non
possunt sed mox extinguuntur_,” “_de dignitate_,” “_de magisterio_,”
“_de coniugiis_,” “_de liberis_,” “_de amicis et inimicis_,” “_de
servis_,” “_de perigrinatione_,” “_de genere mortis_.” These two books
discuss how length of years, fortune, diseases, and various qualities of
body and mind may be predicted from the stars; in short, how man’s
entire life is ordered by the constellations. Such is the book which
Bouché-Leclercq calls “science’s surrender.”[184]
V. _The hermetic books and occultism._—An account of belief in magic in
the Roman Empire would be incomplete without some reference to the
famous hermetic books. Hermes Trismegistus might, as deservedly as any
other man—had he only been a man and not a myth—be called the father of
magic, just as he used to be known as the father of Egyptian science and
just as he was regarded by many as the inventor of all philosophy.[185]
In the time of Plato the Egyptian god Thoth acquired the name of Hermes
from the similarity of his functions to those of the Greek god. He also
came to be considered as the author of pretty much all knowledge and was
given the epithet of “Thrice Great.” The entire body of Egyptian occult
lore was attributed to him, and Manetho, who pictured him as reigning
over the ancient Egyptians, declared that in addition to his royal
duties he succeeded in turning off some 36,000 volumes. Clement of
Alexandria, however, speaks of but forty-two books as “indispensably
necessary,” and says that the priests having charge of the hermetic
books, by memorizing these forty-two, cover the entire philosophy of the
Egyptians.[186] Diocletian is said to have dispersed the priests and
burned their books, because he came to the conclusion that the frequent
revolts in the locality received pecuniary aid by means of gold
artificially manufactured in the temples.[187] Before that, however,
lore supposed to be similar to that contained within the books had
become disseminated. In the days of Hadrian and the Antonines, Jews and
other Orientals at Rome offered to initiate persons into those occult
sciences previously the monopoly of the Egyptian priesthood. Marcus
Aurelius, in his later years, was thus instructed by an Egyptian
diviner, who followed him in all his campaigns.[188] Also the custom
grew up rather early of passing off works on occult subjects under
Hermes’ name and of ascribing to him all such books which were of
doubtful authorship. Of alchemy was this tendency especially true, so
that it came to be known as the hermetic art. Sosimus, Stephanus and
other Greek writers cited alchemical treatises under Hermes’ name, and
the practice of publishing spurious hermetic books continued well into
the Middle Ages.[189] Several such alchemical treatises are still
extant; and writings on astrological medicine and the magical powers of
gems, plants and animals have also come down to us under Hermes’
name.[190]
Some of the supposed writings of Hermes were mystical rather than
magical; for instance, the famous _Poemander_,[191] which consists
mainly of brief and disconnected utterances concerning God and the human
soul and other subjects of a religious character. Still, one does not
have to read far into its sixteen “books” before finding evidence of
belief in astrology, of the mysticism of number and of an esoteric view
of knowledge. It tells us “to avoid all conversation with the multitude”
and to “take heed of them as not understanding the virtue and power of
the things that are said.” It speaks frequently of the seven circles of
heaven, the seven zones, and the seven “Governors.” It affirms that “the
Gods were seen in their Ideas of the Stars with all their signs, and the
stars were numbered with the Gods in them.” Hence, it is probably safe
enough, when, for instance, we hear that Theon, father of Hypatia,
celebrated in his day as a mathematician, and professor at the
Alexandrian Museum, lectured upon the writings of Hermes Trismegistus
and of Orpheus[192]—another legendary worthy charged with works of an
occult character—to conclude that we have met one more case of the
mingling of magic with learning.
In short, then, the mythical figure of Hermes Trismegistus became an
actuating ideal to the Middle Ages, and the works appearing under his
name had a considerable influence in extending belief in magic.
Secondly, the hermetic books serve to typify that mass of Eastern occult
philosophy and occult science which was so strong a force in the mental
life of the Roman Empire.