Astral Discourse in the Corpus Hermeticum: A Survey

Christian Wildberg
Princeton University

This paper gives an interpretative summary of the scope and content of astrological
passages in the philosophical Hermetica. The term ‘philosophical Hermetica’ refers mainly
to the eighteen extant tractates in Greek and Latin associated with the mythical figure of
Hermes Trismegistus; to this we must add the surviving Hermetic fragments found in the
Anthology compiled by Ioannes Stobaeus in the 5th century C.E. In view of the modern
association of Hermetism and astrology, one might suppose that the Hermetica must be
replete with astrological discourse, but such an expectation is going to be disappointed.
What we would call astrology proper plays only a marginal role in these Hermetic writings,
and the considerably older, more technical and observational discipline of astronomy none
whatsoever.

However, it is possible to say is that in this type of literature the viability and practice of
astrology receives something like a metaphysical foundation or framework. This
framework is erected over two fundamental tenets of Hermetism which, in and of
themselves, have nothing to do with astrology: first the doctrine of the preeminent
importance of the Sun and, second, the thesis of the essential divinity of mankind. The
Sun, the most radiant celestial body by far, is identified, in ways that are not always clear
and conspicuous, with the supreme deity of the universe and its life-giving creativity. It, or
more precisely its light, is also connected to human consciousness. Human beings, in turn,
are the descendants of an originary androgynous human who, as direct offspring of the
supreme deity, ranks among the highest beings within god’s creation. Together, these two
doctrines establish the essential connection between the heavens and humanity.

The Hermetic texts declare themselves to be ancient Egyptian lore, a claim that modern
scholarship, ever since Isaac Casaubon in the 16th century, has often vigorously disputed1.
To be sure, there is much terminology in the Hermetica that is reminiscent of Hellenistic

1
On the modern debate as to the date and provenance of the Hermetica since the
publication of Ficino’s Latin translation in 1463 see Ebeling (2007), chs. III–VI.

1
philosophy, but the way in which philosophical terms and concepts are employed is often
enough entirely un-Greek.

At the heart of the metaphysics emerging from these pages lies, as has been said, the
importance given to the Sun, but not so much to the celestial body per se as to its effect,
the solar light radiating from it and pervading the entire cosmos. It is light (or, as the
formula often reads, “life and light”2) that acts directly on all beings in the universe in
beneficial ways from a distance. It enlivens all of nature and brings it to fruition. Yet solar
light is the physical manifestation of its principle, divine light, which first created the world,
and even more importantly than the daily experience of sunlight is the manifestation of
divine light in the miracle of human consciousness or awareness. In fact, mankind is
created with nous (consciousness) for the explicit purpose of appreciating the creation’s
goodness, of practicing cosmic awareness and bearing witness to the divinity of both
nature and humanity.

In many ways, the core doctrines of the Hermetica are uncannily reminiscent of the
suppressed monotheistic religion of solar light preached and practiced during the reign of
Amenophis IV, the pharaoh who changed his name to Akhenaten (meaning roughly
“Servant of Sunlight”). Akhenaten ruled over Egypt for a mere 17 years in the mid-14th
century B.C.E., but during this brief period he succeeded in revolutionizing Egyptian
religion by literally abolishing its traditional veneration of the myriad of anthropomorphic
and theriomorphic deities in favor of the exclusive worship of solar light. If the ideas
contained in the Hermetic writings originated in Egypt (which is now emerging as the new
opinio communis), they likewise betray a remarkable disinterest in the traditional
iconography and myths one would normally associate with Egyptian religion. With few
significant exceptions, there is no religious significance given to Isis and Osiris, to Seth or
Horus or any of the other gods that played a role in the Nile valley.3

For the topic in hand it is noteworthy that the central concern for the veneration of the sun
is in some passages extended to a veneration of the planets and the sphere of the fixed stars,
both of which are likewise believed to operate at a distance on the world and on the affairs

2
On the life-and-light-formula see CH I 9; I 12; I 17; I 21; I 32; XIII 9; XIII 12; XIII 8;
XIII 19; Stobaeus, Fragment 23.9.
3
The exceptions are the Stobaeus fragments 23–26, but here Isis and Horus are reduced
euhemeristically to imagined interlocutors.

2
of mankind in particular. Without a doubt, these passages have a distinctly astrological
flavor, but it is also true to say that they are often beset with textual problems bordering on
the verge of unintelligibility. One can show on purely philological grounds, and in a few
cases quite clearly, that these passages owe their existence to a process of Hellenistic or late
antique redaction.4 Astrology, especially of the horoscopic kind, seems to be a concern that
accrued to Hermetism at a later stage in its historical and intellectual development.

Since astrological passages in general are scattered throughout the Corpus and do not
connect easily to form a single coherent discourse about the nature and influence of the
celestial bodies, it is perhaps best to present the evidence in the form of a survey that goes
through the Hermetica in the order of their now standard arrangement. I shall first discuss
the evidence in the seventeen extant Greek Hermetic tractates, then take a look at the Latin
Asclepius and conclude with a summary of astrological passages in the excerpts of
Stobaeus.

***

The first and most famous Hermetic tractate of the entire collection is the so-called
Poimandres.5 In this bold and sweeping narrative, the author, Hermes, recounts how he
received, while in a state of elevated awareness, revelatory knowledge about the universe,
its nature and divine origin. The agent of this revelation is, apparently, nothing else but the
narrator’s own mind or consciousness (nous). Hermes’ bears witness to an internal logos
that speaks in the voice of divine consciousness, describing in vivid images the creation of
the world and of mankind. The Hermetic revelation culminates in the proclamation of
human immortality.

One characteristic and quite unusual feature of this narrative, which also distinguishes it
sharply from the biblical Genesis, is the fact that Light/Consciousness itself seems to be the
highest creative force, not an instrument or product thereof. In fact, according to this
account, cosmic light is nothing but the visible manifestation of divine consciousness. Since
divine consciousness is also the narrator, the treatise is, in a sense, the Word or Gospel of
Light.

4
On the phenomenon of mechanical interpolation in the Hermetica, see Wildberg, (2013).
5
On the title, see Kingsley (1993).

3
Now, in section 7, where this Light is said to be the creator of a “boundless cosmos”,
Hermes requests further instruction about the elements of nature (section 8), and it is here
that we get a somewhat garbled and compressed account of the generation of planets on
the one hand and animals, including man, on the other (sections 8–12). The stretch of text
is a good example of the general interpretative difficulties one encounters in this body of
literature. The passage of interest (cited below) appears to be a composite of an original
text and a later redaction. In the present case, there are a number of indications that the
lines beginning in section 9 until “just as consciousness wanted” in 11 may have been part
of a later redaction:

– First, the last clause of 11 lacks a subject; upon inspection, it seems likely that that clause
is simply the continuation of the last sentence of section 8.
– Second, section 9 narrates the creation of the planets (or rather their administrators) by a
second god, the demiurge, who himself is a creation of the logos of the first god. The
cosmos then splits up, in section 10, into a divine region filled with logos and a lower,
material region devoid of logos. But the material stratification of the universe had already
happened, and in a different way, in section 5.
– Third, in section 8, the supreme deity brings about the beautiful diversity of the cosmos
directly by the power of his own will, a motif that reoccurs in the creation of mankind in
section 12 (quoted partially). But in the astrological passage cited below, the creative role is
given to a second god, a demiurgic god of fire and vapor (pneuma). This stands in marked
contrast to the predominant monotheistic doctrine of the Poimandres6 and the rest of the
Hermetica: there is only one god, the creator, whom human beings must recognize and
venerate (see e.g. tractates CH I, III, IV, V, XI, XIII, XIV).
– Finally, the role of the logos in this story of creation is obscured rather than clarified by
the astrological passage. Earlier in the narrative, the logos was said to issue from divine
consciousness (section 6); it is that which Poimandres utters and which Hermes is listening
to. In section 8, too, God’s will is informed by the divine logos and thus becomes creative.
But in section 10, strangely, the logos is said to abandon the descending material elements,
leaving the entire lower region devoid of logos. Perhaps the two conceptions of logos fit
together in some way, but they don’t do so obviously or easily. Let us now turn to the
passage in question (CH I, 8–12):

6
Cf. for example the final hymn in CH I, 31.

4
 8 Since I was in a state of bewilderment, he (i.e. Poimandres) addresses me once
more: “You saw in your consciousness the archetypal form (archetupon eidos), the
cause prior to the ceaseless first cause (archê).” Just so Poimandres (spoke) to me. — I
reply: “The elements of Nature, then, where did they come from?” — To which he
responds: “By the will (boulê) of God, which understood the reason principle (logos),
beheld the beautiful cosmos, and imitated it as it made it into a cosmos by its own
elements and begotten souls, * … 7
9 “But Consciousness, the God who is male-and-female, who is in full existence
(huparchôn) as life and light, begot by its reason principle (logos) a further
Consciousness, a craftsman (dêmiourgos) who, as God over fire and vapour (pneuma),
crafted seven administrators (dioikêtai) who encompass the perceptible world with
their orbits. And their administration is called Fate (heimarmenê).
10 “Straightaway God’s reason principle (logos) leapt up from God’s descending
elements into the pure creation of nature and was united with the Creator-
Consciousness, for it was of the same substance.8 And what was devoid of reason (ta
aloga), (i.e.) the descending elements of nature, were left behind so as to be matter
only.
11 “The Creator-Consciousness, united with the reason principle (logos) that
encompasses the circuits and rotates (them) in a rush, turned its creations around and
let them turn from an indefinite beginning to a limitless end: they begin where they
end. And their revolution brought forth from the descending elements, just as
Consciousness wanted, non-rational animals, for they did not contain the reason
principle (logos); and air brought forth winged (animals); and water (brought forth)
creatures of the sea. And earth and water were separated from one another, just as
Consciousness wanted.
* … and it (i.e. the will)9 brought forth from itself what animals it could, quadruped
beasts, wild and domestic animals.

7
The sentence breaks off here and to all appearances continues at the end of section 11,
see footnote 9 below.
8
The word used is homoousios, which is of course a catchword of later Christian
controversy but could also be used in an entirely unmarked way, cf. e.g. Plotinus, Enn. IV
4,28.55.
9
Nock felt compelled to insert <the earth> as subject at this point, because the verb
ἐξήνεγκεν (‘brought forth’) lacks one. It has to be a feminine noun and therefore cannot
simply be supplied from the previous sentence. It therefore seems likely that the sentence in

5
 12 “But Consciousness, the Father of all things who is life and light, gave birth to
Man (anthropos), equal to him, whom he loved as his own child. He was indeed of
exquisite beauty, since he bore his father’s image. For indeed, God really loved his
own form; he gave him all of his own creation.

Reading this cosmological conglomerate in isolation, the metaphysical picture that

emerges is that of a highest deity bringing forth a second deity, a master over fire and
pneuma, who in turn creates seven administrators (dioikêtai) who encircle the perceptible
world. It is not immediately clear whether these administrators are celestial bodies
themselves or rather deities that govern the movements of the planets. Presumably the
latter. In any case, the combination of the resulting revolutions determines everything that
happens here below in the terrestrial world; the text employs at this point the Stoic term
for Fate, heimarmenê. Importantly, the creation of the animal kingdom too is the work of
the planetary administrators, whereas mankind is the direct creation of the supreme deity
(12).

This complicated metaphysical framework prompts the question of the relationship

between the two major creations of the highest deity, the celestial hierarchy on the one
hand and humans on the other. The first point to note is that the first man – a male-female
human from an androgynous father (cf. CH I 15) – is the brother of the first celestial
administrator. In this way, the Hermetica elevate humanity as such far above the rest of
the animal kingdom (cf. also below CH X 24–25). It is only after the original man decides
to become a creator himself and falls from heaven to live and procreate on earth that he
becomes subject to influence of the planetary forces: “[A]lthough he was above the
harmonious edifice, he has become a slave within it.” (CH I 15).

However, before Man descends, each of the celestial administrators gives him a share of
their “order” (taxis; I 13). We are not told at this point precisely what this entails; only
near the end of the treatise (in sections CH I 25–26) do we learn that human beings who
manage to escape from the cycle of rebirth and rejoin the deity will return “energies”
(energeiai) to the spheres: first the increase and decrease of their bodies, then the contriving
of evil, treacherous desire, excessive use of power, recklessness, the desire for wealth, and

fact continues the relative clause from the end of section 8, which is interrupted by the
long cosmological insertion. Once this is recognized, the inference suggests itself that the
subject of ἐξήνεγκεν is god’s will.

6
finally falsehood. Stripped of these seven ‘operations’ (energêmata, CH I 26), the now
purified humans enter the eighth sphere, the sphere of the fixed stars, from where they
hope to ascend to the presence of god in a region even further out (the Ninth).10 The
implicit anthropology is that a pure and divine human core personality is subjected to a
(largely corrupting) ethopoeia of the planets.11 The Poimandres does not specify how and
when such character formation takes place, only when and how it is reversed.

It also remains unclear how exactly the negative energies line up with the seven planets, or
how they relate to the seven-fold empowerment the original Human received from the
administrators in an act of benign generosity. We have to assume that the “natures”
(phuseis) of the seven administrators somehow pass on into mankind as a whole because
the original Human begets sevenfold androgynous offspring whose natures resemble those
of the administrators (section 16). Assuming that taxis, energeia, and phusis are more or
less interchangeable terms and pick out a sort of bestowed ability or character trait, this
must mean not that each of the seven humans resembled any one of the seven
administrators, but rather that they resembled them collectively. For otherwise it would be
inexplicable how any one ascending human being could, after death, return the respective
energies to each of the planetary spheres.

This kind of perplexing story in which pieces from different narratives partially overlap
but never seamlessly fit together is quite representative of the Hermetica. What we get is a
cryptic and piecemeal sort of astrological metaphysics. The important point to note,
however, is the fact that the heavens tend not to be discussed in isolation and for their own
sake, but always in their relation to and significance for mankind.

One apparent exception to this rule is the thoroughly enigmatic second tractate that
purports to record a conversation between Hermes and his disciple Asclepius. The treatise
lacks a title because, in the manuscript tradition, the beginning of the tractate has gone

10
On the celestial ascent see also the Coptic Hermetic text Discourse on the Eighth and
Ninth preserved in the Nag Hammadi library (= NHC VI 6).
11
Even if in the case of the first man, these influences were presumably benign, cf. CH I
13: “And after the man had observed what the craftsman had created with the father’s
help, he also wished to make some craftwork, and the father agreed to this. Entering the
craftsman’s sphere, where he was to have all authority, the man observed his brother’s
craftworks; the governors loved the man, and each gave a share of his own order” (trans.
Copenhaver).

7
missing, although an excerpt of an early stretch is extant in Stobaeus. The Greek is at times
exceedingly corrupt, and if one compares the text handed down in the codices with
Stobaeus’s rendering, one can see quite clearly how Stobaeus himself is struggling to
smooth over the difficulties.12 In any case, the doctrine of celestial mechanics espoused here,
to the extent that it can be discerned at all,13 is far more technical and ‘scientific’ than what
we have gleaned so far from the Poimandres. The main ideas are the following five points:

– 1. Motion can only take place in the context of rest;

– 2. the universe moves within a space that is much larger than it, and that space is at rest;
– 3. the planets are not simply moved by the rotating sphere of the fixed stars but possess
their own (counter-) motion;
– 4. all motion is due to soul;
– 5. the encompassing immobile cosmic space (topos) is god, or more precisely divine
consciousness, from which all goodness emanates.

The idea that there is spiritually significant space beyond the sphere of the fixed stars tallies
with the ascent narrative of CH I; further parallels can be found in the Latin Asclepius
(Ascl. 27 and 33) as well as, outside the Hermetica, in Philo (De somniis I 63; De fuga et
inventione 75) and Plotinus (Enneads II 5 [25], 3.39).14

Up to this point we have learned that the universe is the creation of divine consciousness,
that consciousness contains and suffuses heaven and earth in a manifestation of immobile
space, that the planets move on their own accord (like a swimmer swimming against the
current)15, that they are governed by divine administrators and impart their powers on
human beings (which manifest themselves in mostly nefarious character traits) and, finally,
that they influence by their movements the course of the history below.

12
There is plenty of evidence that Stobaeus himself was reading a corrupted text, and it is
therefore questionable editorial practice, generally adopted by Nock and Festugière and
other editors and translators, to prefer the (intelligible) readings in Stobaeus to the more
difficult readings in the codices. Not unlike Walter Scott centuries later, Stobaeus felt free
to alter grammar and contents so as to turn it into a text that made sense to himself.
13
Scott (II 75–110) repeatedly complains about the tractate’s incoherence.
14
The order of dependency and influence is a matter that awaits renewed discussion.
Prima facie, it seems much more likely to me that polymath scholars such as Philo and
Plotinus had read Hermetic treatises than that the author(s) of the Hermetica had studied
Philo and Plotinus. In fact, the latter hypothesis is incredible.
15
This is the terrestrial analogy given by Hermes in CH II 8.

8
The third tractate might be used further to flesh out this picture because it explicitly speaks
about the function and importance of astrology for human life. Unfortunately, careful
philological analysis of this short genesis entitled Sacred Discourse (Hieros Logos) reveals
that the text has been heavily contaminated. The most likely explanation for this fact is
that marginal notes were at some point mechanically copied into the late antique
archetype. As it stands, the text is nearly incomprehensible unless the original narrative
and the intrusions are carefully separated. 16 To give the reader an impression of the extent
of the problem, I am here citing the tractate in full:

CH III Sacred Discourse

A Sacred Discourse of Hermes Marginalia

(1) God is the splendor of everything; he is

something divine, and nature too is divine.
God is the first cause of what exists; he is
consciousness, nature, matter, and the wisdom
to show forth all things. The divine is first
cause and nature, activity and necessity,
completion and renewal.
A boundless darkness was in the abyss, and
by divine power water and subtle, intelligent
pneuma were present in Chaos. Then arose a
holy light, and beneath the sediment solidified
a
out of the watery substance elements a […] of a And all the gods are looking down (on it),
fertile nature. …
(2) While everything was undetermined
and unwrought, light things separated off
upwards and heavy things were laid as
foundation upon the wet sediment, after the
wholes were separated by fire and elevated by
b
pneuma to be carried by it. And heaven … since gods are in fact visible in the
became visible in seven circles b […] along with formations of stars.
all their signs, and heaven was entirely
completed with the gods in it. And the
circumference wound itself around the air,
carried along on a circular path by divine
pneuma.
(3) Each god, by his peculiar power,
c
brought forth what was ordained to him: And there came to be four-footed animals,
reptiles, animals in water, and feathered animals
c […] as well as every fertile seed, herbs and the green
of every flower. The seeds of rebirth (the gods)
the generations of man so that the works of the gathered in themselves.
gods be known and there be an active

16
For a detailed philological discussion and interpretation of this tractate, see Wildberg
2013. On the Egyptian background of the ideas expressed, see Podemann Sørensen (1993).

9
 d
testimony to (the works of) nature; and the Also the mastery over everything under the sky
multitude of men d […] so that they increase in and the exact knowledge of what is good.
their growth and multiply in multiplicity;
e
and every embodied soul e […] so that it By portent-sowings of the course of the circular
recognize the signs of good things f […] and gods for the observation of heaven and the course
discover g […] every workmanship of good of the heavenly gods, and the activities of divine
things. works and of nature …
f
... for the knowledge of the divine power of fate
(4) h […] (when it is?) disturbed.
g
of good and bad things

h
And all generation of ensouled flesh and of It is the beginning of their living and scheming
fruitful seed i[…] will be renewed by necessity, against <the> fate of <the> course of <the>
by the gods’ renewal and by the course of circular gods, and dissolving it. For this there
nature’s numbered circle. The entire cosmic will be great monuments of craftsmanship on
blend, which is renewed by nature, is the earth, after, in the name of times (?), they have
divine, since nature indeed rests firmly in the left behind darkness…
i
divine. … and the inferior kinds of each craft.

What emerges is the following picture: The original Hermetic text began with a formulaic
preamble affirming the divine origin and goodness of the universe. Next, light is said to
emerge from darkness and to separate out the elements from chaos. The spheres of the
fixed stars as well as the seven planets become visible; gods reside in them and initiate
circular motion (CH III 1–2). This much is more or less in line with the cosmogony of the
Poimandres (CH I). But then CH III departs from the first treatise in two respects: For one
thing, the astral gods, not the first god, are creating human beings (section 3); and secondly,
the human race is formed for the explicit (and perhaps sole) purpose of being conscious
spectators that bear witness to the goodness of God’s creation (section 3). There is nothing
that is particularly astrological in this story, except that mankind is intimately tied up with
the astral deities who gave existence and meaning to human life. Stargazing was much like
peering at harbor lights to guide one home.

A later scholar of Hermetism studied this particular text but had ideas of his own about
such matters, ideas that look as if they have been influenced by the biblical genesis account
and great deal of admiration for astrology. First he fleshed out the original creation story
because it proceeded, in typical Hermetic fashion, too quickly from the creation of the
universe to the creation of mankind (marginal comment c). In gloss d, human beings are
given mastery over everything under the sky, along with the knowledge of what is good
(and evil?). Then he turns distinctly astrological: the celestial gods sow portents and in that
way convey the foreknowledge of what is fated, in both a good and a bad sense. In stilted
language that differs stylistically from the original narrative (note some big and late words

10
of the Greek language such as technourgêmata, ‘products of craftsmanship’ and amaurôsis,
‘darkening’) the Hermeticist avers that astrology is the foundation of technological and
cultural progress (comments h and i).

The general impression arises that the Hermetica may contain two different star narratives
that are curiously intertwined: In one narrative, the celestial order is significant as a whole
is symbolic of the world’s goodness and the divine origin of mankind. Humanity’s main
purpose is to behold the world in the spirit of contemplatio caeli, not to change it. Humans
exist because without them, the cosmos would lack the kind of consciousness that is
capable of recognizing and appreciating the work of the gods. More than that, in the
discernment of the heavens humankind comes to the realization of its own nature.

In the other narrative that inscribed itself into the margins and was eventually copied into
the text itself, the spheres, and in particular the planets, are messengers of fate that reveal
to those in the know the code of human destiny. The redactor turned an enchanted-world
discourse into a manifesto of the cultural role of astrology as the motor of progress.
Whatever the precise details, it seems that we can discern two quite different voices, the
one being the voice of a philosophical creationist who proclaims the world’s perfection and
goodness, the other being the voice of a praxis-oriented astrologer who proclaims the
necessity of astrology for human flourishing in a potentially hostile world.

The short fourth tractate, which bears the perplexing title The Mixing Bowl or the Monad,
is written very much in the spirit of an enchanted world narrative. God’s goodness induced
him to create man as an adornment of the divine cosmos, and “man became a spectator of
god’s work. He looked at it in astonishment and recognized its maker” (CH IV 2, trans.
Copenhaver). In section 8 we encounter again the motif, already familiar from the
Poimandres, that a sufficiently reverent soul may, after the death of the body, ascend
through the spheres and be reunited with god.

Tractate CH V (That the Invisible God is Most Visible) offers instruction in natural
theology and fosters the appropriate veneration of the cosmos and its maker (esp. section 3
and 4). The distinction between creator and creation seems to be deliberated fluid.
Although there is a theoretical difference, god is pantheistically present in every part of the

11
universe (section 9 and 10). In this way god is, paradoxically, both entirely visible and
invisible (10).

The following two tractates, CH VI and VII (on god’s goodness and on evil respectively),
do not contain any passages dealing celestial matters. Tractate VIII, which defends the
thesis that death is really only a matter of increase and diminution (and otherwise an
illusion), draws at one point (section 4) a clear distinction between the relative disorder of
the world here below on earth and the stability and order of the heavens, but this is
minimally significant for the purpose of our present discussion. The overarching concern is
to establish, once again, the typically Hermetic hierarchical ontology of god, universe, and
humanity.

As a matter of general doctrine of the Hermetica, the celestial cosmos is seen not so much
as the product of god’s work but itself as an important moment in the life of the universe.
So again in Tractate IX, where the universe is much more than an arrangement of matter
in space: it is itself productive and has understanding. The author calls it an instrument of
god’s will (section 6) and likens it to a good farmer of life (agathos zôês geôrgos). The
point of such language is not so much to articulate an absolutely coherent natural
philosophy, but to change the consciousness and perception of the reader. A Hermetist
lives in a world that is quite different from the world construed by the ordinary mind, a
universe that is as perfect as it is divine and does not require any human effort and
ingenuity to improve it. And it is precisely this awed awareness of the universe that deflates
the temptation to become a homo faber and instead leads a man back to its maker.

That, at any rate, is the theory. The very long and substantive Tractate CH X, which
bears the enigmatic title Key, rehearses some of the by now familiar motives, but it also
features some other pronouncements that are new and surprising. On the one hand, the
genealogy of god – cosmos – humanity, is firmly in place (see CH X 14: “So there are
these three: god the father and good, the cosmos, and man. And god encompasses the
cosmos, but the cosmos encompasses man.”),17 and so is the optimistic doctrine that
human souls may attain immortality when and if they change into daimones and end up

17
Cf. also CH X 22: “The cosmos is subordinate to god, but man is subordinate to the
cosmos, and the non-rational animals are subordinate to men. God is beyond all things
and among all things. The energies belong to god like rays, the natures are the rays of the
cosmos, the technical skills and sciences belong to humans.”

12
dancing on “into the chorus of the gods” (section 7). The context of this sort of assertion
seems to be provided by euhemerism, because earlier, in section 5, we read that Uranus
and Cronus are Hermes’ ancestors.18 Syntax disturbances in the text at that point suggest
again that this remark may be part of a later redaction; nowhere do we receive any further
information that would help us understand further details of this doctrine. There are some
other brief remarks, possibly later additions, insisting (twice) on the importance of the role
of the sun in the process of creation (sections 2 and 3). But the most surprising declaration
comes right at the end of the treatise, sections 24–25:

… For a human being is a living being that is divine and not to be associated with the
other living beings on earth but rather with the gods that are said to be in heaven. Or
rather, if one should dare to speak the truth: the real human being is actually superior
to them, or at any rate equal to them in power. None of the celestial gods will descend
to earth, leaving the boundary of heaven behind, but man does ascend to heaven, and
measures it, and knows which kind of things are above and which kind of things are
below, and accurately learns all things. And the greatest thing of all: he ascends
without even leaving the earth! Such is the greatness of his reach. Which is why one
should venture to say that man on earth is a mortal god, and god in heaven an
immortal man.

The characteristically Hermetic doctrine of mankind’s divinity is most pointedly

articulated here, and it is presumably this that is meant by “the key”; but it is not the only
place where it can be found. The thesis is of a piece with the anthropology of the
Poimandres (CH I), and somewhat less exalted claims can be found in CH IV 5 and XI
19–20. Two points are worth noting: First, it would be a mistake to dismiss such
pronouncements as little more than astro-Hermetical conceit. The conviction of the
divinity of the physical world, including mankind, is the natural consequence of the refusal
to carve the world up dualistically into mortal and immortal, perishable and eternal,
perfect and imperfect. Second, the Hermetists did not make this claim on the basis of a

18
Lactantius, Epitome of the Divine Institutes XIV reports in the context of discussing
Euhemerism: “That Uranus was the father of Saturnus, both Hermes affirms, and sacred
history teaches. When Trismegistus said that there were very few men of perfect learning,
he enumerated among them his relatives, Uranus, Saturnus, and Mercurius.” (Saturnus is
the Latin version of Cronus.)

13
fully worked out system of knowledge, esoteric or not;19 instead, what motivated and
convinced them was the fact that they were maximally impressed by the astonishing
phenomenon of awareness or consciousness as such.20

CH XII, entitled in the most authoritative manuscripts About What is Common, for Tat21
is one of those treatises that celebrate just this consciousness, emphasizing the essential
unity of human and divine mind. Without losing the connection to its divine source,
consciousness is again likened to the light emitted by the sun (CH XII 1). The text is
conspicuous, however, for the omission of any mention of astrology. Near the end of the
treatise (section 19) we read:

Through consciousness, then, every living thing is immortal, but above all man, who
can both receive god and keep his company. With this form of life alone does god
communicate, at night through dreams, by day through omens, and through all of
them he foretells him the future, through birds, through entrails, through inspiration,
through the oak tree, …

If astrology, and not the much more fundamental cultivation of consciousness, had been
central to the educational project of Hermetists, this would have been the place to say
something about it. But in fact, all we get is the standard Hermetic exhortation to venerate
the heavens as a whole: “If you wish to contemplate god, look at the order of the universe
(kosmos), how well arranged this order is.” (CH XII 21).

CH XIII contains an extremely garbled and incomprehensible astrological passage that is,
again, quite clearly an intrusion of a marginal note into the main text, and presumably at

19
In fact, such specialized knowledge would be more of a hindrance than anything else to
the required shift, and full use, of one’s consciousness, cf. Asclepius 13 and below p. ###.
20
There is another peculiarity in CH XI: The word kosmos, which the authors of the
Corpus Hermeticum quite regularly use in reference to the universe as a whole, is
employed here in the plural to denote the seven planets, with the sun being declared their
leader (CH XI 7). There does not seem to be any parallel for this usage of the word
kosmos elsewhere.
21
This is the reading in codices A and B. The other manuscripts have “About the common
consciousness (or mind, nous), for Tat.” In any case, it is clear that by “what is common”
the title of the treatise, if genuine, refers to consciousness.

14
the entirely wrong place.22 For the purposes of this survey, it is only necessary to point out
that there is talk of the zodiacal circle (zôiophoros kuklos) and the number twelve, which
evidently refers to the standard division of the zodiac. This is remarkable, since the
Egyptians typically divided the sky into 36 Decans, not twelve signs of the zodiac, which is
part of the Babylonian tradition and does not appear in Egyptian art and literature before
the Hellenistic times.23 Corpus Hermeticum XIII does not contain anything further of
interest for our topic, nor does CH XIV. What used to be CH XV is no longer recognized
as an independent treatise. Adrien Turnèbe, in his editio princeps of the Hermetica in
1554, had combined two Stobaeus excerpts (I and II A) with a Greek version of a passage
from the Latin Asclepius (section 27) and printed that conglomerate as tractate XV.24 The
texts are now typically presented among the excerpts from Stobaeus (see below).

The Signposts25 of Asclepius, for King Ammon (Tractate CH XVI), on the contrary, are
again brimming with star discourse and quasi-astrological material. This tractate is a letter
sent, in the world of this particular literary fiction, from Asclepius, the pupil of Hermes, to
a King by the name of Ammon (= Amun).26 The text is of interest also for the fact that it
explicitly articulates the Egyptian tradition of Hermetic doctrine. This looks like a
deliberate bit of ‘Egyptianizing’ on the part of some Hellenistic or late antique author,
especially since this Greek text self-referentially warns against the highly significant and
symbolic Egyptian words being translated into the “pompous, loose, and florid language
of the Greeks” (CH XVI 2). But then again, what precisely would be the reason to doubt
that the Egyptian claim contains a genuine core?

22
For what it’s worth, Copenhaver (p. 52) translates the passage at XIII 12 as follows:
“This tent – from which we also have passed, my child – was constituted from the zodiacal
circle, which was in turn constituted of [ ] entities that are twelve in number, one in
nature, omniform in appearance. To mankind’s confusion, there are disjunctions among
the twelve, my child, though they are unified when they act.”
23
The Egyptian system of 36 decans was in place by the mid-third millennium B.C.E.
“Each of these decans, probably beginning with Sirius, was invisible for 70 days, and was
given a 10-day period of special significance (a decade) following its period of invisibility
and rebirth from the duat.” (Campion, 2008 Vol. I: 99). On Egyptian time keeping see
Parker (1970).
24
See Holzhausen (1997), I: 198.
25
Something like this must be the sense of the Greek horoi. The more common translation
would be ‘definitions’, but the text does not contain any definitions in the familiar sense at
all.
26
King Ammon does not seem to be any historical figure, and it makes little sense to
identify him with Amun, the King of the Egyptian pantheon, who presumably would not
stand in need of any instruction by a human, however much enlightened by Hermetic
wisdom. Scott may be right in that the god-king is here euhemerized, Vol. II: 435.

15
CH XVI can be conveniently divided into five parts. After the introductory address to the
king (in which the author curiously warns right at the beginning that the views expressed
here may not agree with other Hermetic teachings (Part 1: sections 1–2), the text turns into
a long exposition of the function and importance of the sun and its light (Part 2: sections
3–9). The sun is said to be positioned in the middle (N.B. not the center) of the cosmos,
between the earth and the sphere of the fixed stars, binding them together. It sends out the
energy of its free and ungrudging light both above, to the immortals, and below, to earth.
In a language that is reminiscent of Akhenaten’s great hymn, the Sun is praised as the
force that enlivens and awakens all creatures; it is in fact the creative energy that brought
them forth in the first place and subjects them to change.

But then, in sections 10–15 (Part 3), the author segues into an elaborate demonology that
has no parallel in other Hermetic writings. The author claims that the sun is surrounded
by enormous troops of demons that oversee all human activity and cause natural
catastrophes such as earthquakes, floods, and famine. These demons (who are deployed by
the sun) are somehow connected to the stars (section 13) and may have either good or evil
intentions, although the predominant sentiment seems to be that these demons spell
trouble for mankind. “They reshape our souls to their own ends, and they rouse them,
lying in ambush in our muscle and marrow, in veins and arteries, in the brain itself,
reaching to the very guts.” (CH XVI 14; trans. Copenhaver). More importantly, the text
draws a direct connection to horoscopic astrology: “The demons on duty at the exact
moment of birth, arrayed under each of the stars, take possession of each of us as we come
into being and receive a soul.” (CH XVI 15; trans. Copenhaver).

The next three paragraphs (sections 16–18; Part IV) return to the theme of the sun,
claiming that if anyone received a ray of the sun to shine upon the rational part of the soul
(en tôi logikôi), such an enlightened person would be protected from the maleficent
influence of demons. With its astral demonology and firm belief in action at a distance,
beneficent in the case of the sun, mostly maleficent in the case of the planets and stars, this
treatise offers a metaphysical blueprint for the practicing astrologer. The text ends (Part 5)
with a reaffirmation of the divinity of the universe (all individual beings and things are
parts of god) and, in an almost Hegelian fashion, asserts that god ceaselessly makes himself
in the making of all things (section 19).

16
The two remaining treatises of the extant Greek Corpus Hermeticum (XVII and XVIII)
have very little that is of interest for our topic. The brief excerpt CH XVII (without title)
affirms the efficacy of corporeal statues of deities, arguing that they are reflections of the
incorporeal. CH XVIII (On the Soul Hindered by the Body’s Affections)27 is a panegyric
of kings and of the Sun, here apparently equated with the highest deity. This tractate
contains no demonology, and much of the theology of the sun is familiar enough (its
goodness, creative energy, emitting its rays above and below, etc.). But there is one
startling image that is reminiscent, once again, of the solar iconography of the Amarna
period: in section 11 the author says: “The sun, nourisher of all that grows, harvests the
first pick of the crops as it first rises, using its rays like great hands to gather in the crops,
and the rays that are its hands gather in the most ambrosial <effluences> of the plants.”28

***

We can now turn to the one surviving Latin Hermetic tractate, the so-called Asclepius, a
text that also circulated in both Greek and Coptic.29 The treatise contains a lengthy albeit
unsystematic, and at times apparently ‘unorthodox’,30 overview of Hermetic doctrines.
Judging from the fact that the treatise was extant in three languages and even quoted by
the fathers of the church such as Cyril, Lactantius, and Augustine, among others, we can
presume that it had a wide distribution and substantial readership in late antiquity. The
imagined situation is an instruction of Hermes to his pupil Asclepius; in the beginning, the
ideas presented look familiar enough: monotheism, creationism, the divinity of
consciousness, the centrality of the sun, the fundamental interconnectedness of all things in
the universe, and the admiration of god’s creation as man’s purpose:

27
As in several other cases, the title bears no relation to the actual content of the tractate.
28
Trans. Copenhaver. There is no good reason to dismiss the image of the hand-like rays
of the sun as “la rhétorique la plus banale” (Festugiere (1950), Vol. I: 91). For the
question might at least be asked how the Hellenistic or late antique author of this text knew
of this unusual iconography, given that the reliefs of the Armana period had been either
wholly obliterated or firmly buried under ground.
29
Remains of the Greek version are extant in the Papyrus Mimaut, in Lactantius, Ps.-
Anthimus, Cyril of Alexandria, Stobaeus, and John Lydus. A Coptic translation of parts of
the Greek are extant in the Nag Hammadi Library, NHC VI 7 and VI 8.
30
If there is such a thing as orthodox Hermetism.

17
 3 [ …] The heavens, a perceptible god, administer all bodies whose growth and
decline have been charged to the sun and moon. But god, who is their maker, is
himself governor of heaven and of soul itself and of all things that are in the world.
From all these, all governed by the same god, a continuous influence carries through
the world and through the soul of all kinds and all forms throughout nature. God …
causes all things to reach as far as heaven so that they will be pleasing in the sight of
god. (trans. Copenhaver, 1992, p. 68)

To confirm the impression of the centrality of this sort of astral mysticism for the Hermetic
philosopher, Asclepius is told, in section 13, that the various and often demanding
branches of learning are less important than “pure philosophy, which depends only on
reverence for god,” i.e. Hermetism. Importantly, the text goes on, pure philosophy should
use the other disciplines of learning “only to wonder at the recurrence of the stars.”

This looks very much like the kind of general astral mysticism that prevailed in the Greek
Hermetica. But once again, in this text we also encounter another voice that seems more
serious about the business of astrology, going well beyond a mere contemplatio caeli. In
section 19 Hermes announces that he is about to disclose the greatest of divine mysteries.
The first such disclosure is an assertion of a serious form of polytheism (deorum genera
multa sunt), a view that stands in sharp contrast to the unequivocal monotheism of the
main body of the Hermetica. The passage goes on to distinguish between two major kinds
of gods, sensible and intelligible ones, and then propounds a complicated doctrine
according to which each class of gods has a leader or head (princeps) whom they follow, or,
as the text puts it in a mixture of Latin and Greek, whom they possess as the principle of
their being (princeps ousias). The author uses also a peculiar Greek neologism to denote
this princeps or leader: ousiarchês.31 There follows an at first sight surprising statement that
Jupiter is the ousiarchês of heaven because he is the principle of life for all things (per
caelum enim Iuppiter omnibus praebet vitam). This makes sense only if ‘Iuppiter’ is the
Latin translation for Zeus, by which the original Greek must have meant not the planet
Jupiter, but god the father and creator of everything, i.e. the familiar first Hermetic
principle. If god is associated with life, light is associated in good Hermetic fashion with the
Sun (cf. the life-and-light theology of the Poimandres); in fact, light is said to be the

31
This Greek word only here in the Latin Asclepius. Ps.-Dionysius the Areopagite uses the
feminine genitive ousiarchias once (De divinis nominibus 180, 12).

18
ousiarchês of the Sun (solis ousiarchês lumen est). Moving on, the hypostasis of
omniformity32 is the ousiarchês of the thirty-six divisions of the fixed sphere, and the seven
planetary spheres have fortuna (or heimarmenê, as the author goes on to explain) as their
principle of being. One might have thought that the planets are the principles and causes
of fate, but here the order of aetiological priority is reversed: fate governs the movement of
the planets. But this is of course precisely the reason why the planets’ constellations can be
read and interpreted astrologically.
The text goes on to speak about the element air but then breaks off before we can discern
any further concrete doctrine.

For long stretches the Asclepius goes through an array of different doctrines, discussing the
exalted nature of humanity, an apocalypse of Egypt, death, the universe, space and time,
before it turns distinctly astrological again near the end (sections 39–40), when Asclepius
inquires about the role of fate (heimarmenê). Hermes replies, strangely, with a complex
disjunction: heimarmenê “is the maker of everything, or else the supreme god, or the
second god made by the supreme god, or the ordering of all things in heaven and earth
made steadfast by divine laws” (trans. Copenhaver, 91). Moreover, heimarmenê is
virtually equated with iron necessity. These confused identifications are quite bizarre, but
they may well be of a piece with the earlier astrological metaphysics of section 19. But one
must keep in mind that the doctrine of fatalism is a philosophical crutch that serves to
reconcile the disillusioned soul with the hardships of life. However much such discourse
may smack of Hermetism, fatalistic determinism has nothing to do with the Hermetic
proclamation, so often encountered elsewhere in these texts, of the radiant goodness of god
and splendor of the universe.

***

When John Stobaeus composed his famous collection of excerpts in the fifth century (the
so-called Four Books of Extracts, Sayings and Precepts, often simply Anthology) he had
access to a different and presumably much larger body of philosophical Hermetica than
the one the manuscript tradition has handed down to us. Stobaeus also seems to have had
a keen interest in astrology, since a good proportion of his excerpts pronounce themselves

For the association of omniformity with the cosmos as a whole, cf. also CH XI 16 and
32

XIII 12.

19
on this topic.33 The most important text in this regard is perhaps Fr. 6 (= Stobaeus
1.41.6a); it deals with the topic of the 36 Decans and might well represent a complete
tractate rather than a mere excerpt from a longer work; it is too extensive to cite in full but
may be paraphrased as follows:

Hermes instructs Tat about the 36 Decans. These powerful rulers reside between the
sphere of the fixed stars and the spheres of the planets, slowing down the outer sphere and
accelerating the planets (sections 1–4). They are the guardians of celestial order, not
illuminated by the sun like the other celestial bodies, nor influenced in any way: they are
free (sections 5–6). They not only determine all celestial movements, including the changes
of day and night, but have also the greatest influence on us as they determine such things
as the downfall of kings, revolts, food shortages, floods and earthquakes (sections 7–9).
The Decans are a particular class of demons, with neither body nor soul, commanding a
host of celestial servants and soldiers that determine the point of death of everything that
lives (sections 10–14). Below the spheres of the planets there are other meteorological
phenomena as well as comets, which function as heralds of unusual events (sections 15–
16). Finally the text asserts that it is impossible to be happy without astrology; moreover,
astrology allows the soul to find its way once it returns to the heavens (sections 17–19).
The general tenor of these doctrines reminds one of the astrological layer in the Latin
Asclepius.

Fr. 12 (= Stobaeus 1.5.20) emphasizes the importance of fate (heimarmenê), providence

(pronoia), and necessity (anagkê). Just as in the Asclepius, the stars have powerful
influences on us and are themselves servants of cosmic necessity. Fr. 14 (= Stobaeus
1.5.16) says essentially the same thing in other words: providence, necessity, and fate
govern the circular movements of the stars and planets. The excerpt from a Hermetic
tractate on fate, also preserved by Stobaeus (Fr. 29 = Stobaeus I 5,14), affirms the
influence of the seven planets on us. The text, thirteen lines in all, is written in hexameters,
which is unusual for Hermetic writings, and the Anthologia Palatina (IX 491) attributes

33
I am not dealing in this context with the most extensive Stobaean fragment, Fr. 23 also
known as the Kore Kosmou. The text strikes me as syncretistic and derivative; in it
Hermetic and Platonic elements are further ‘Egyptianized’ by folding them into a fictitious
dialogue between Isis and Horus. The astrology in this text operates with zodiacal signs (cf.
Fr. 23.20) and is consonant with what I believe is a secondary layer in the Hermetica, one
of astrological conceit that includes an optimistic confidence in the benefits of human
science and philosophy (68).

20
one of the verses to the mathematician Theon of Smyrna (4th cent. CE), who ostensibly
wrote commentaries on the Hermetica.34 It is perhaps worthwhile to cite the poem in full.35

Seven much-wandering stars circle along the threshold to Olympus,

And with them eternity runs along always.
Night-illuminating Moon, terrible Cronus, the sweet Sun
Aphrodite, builder of bridal chambers, wild Ares, winged Hermes,
And Zeus, the oldest, from whom all of Nature came to light.
But they selected the human race; there is in us
Moon, Zeus, Ares, Aphrodite, Kronos, Helios, and Hermes.
For this reason we are bound to draw from the ethereal vapor
Tears and laughter, anger and procreation, reason, sleep, and desire.
The tears are Cronus, Zeus is procreation, reason Hermes,
anger Ares, but the Moon is sleep, and Aphrodite desire,
And Helios is laughter. For through him every mortal mind
Rightly rejoices, and so does the boundless universe.

This anthropology, however puzzling in its metaphysics, is clear enough in its

phenomenological contention: the life of each individual human being as well as the
human race as a whole is intimately connected with the planets. They direct us in every
detail of our lives and manifest themselves in the sum-total of our cognitive and emotional
experience.

In a way, this text represents something like the poetic pinnacle of astrological speculation
in the extant philosophical Hermetica, and in character it is clearly of a piece with the kind
of later and derivative Hermetism that sees its culminating achievement in astrology. From
here one can draw a direct line to the later tradition of so-called technical Hermetica, the
bread and butter of working horoscopists and magicians.36 In the light of this, one might
say that the pervasive association of Hermetism with astrology has a certain amount of
justification, but it is at the same time too simple. “Star-gazing” can have many different
motivations and serve different purposes: the heavens, and in particular the dazzling
spectacle of a starry night, can be taken as a sign of the benevolence of a deified cosmos

34
Cf. John Malalas, 13.343.
35
The Greek text is found in Nock–Festugière, Vol. IV, 99.
36
On this tradition see van Bladel (2009).

21
(cosmotheism), beckoning the beholder to aspire to a higher form of existence, a celestial
home whereto the soul might return and be saved (astral mysticism). But the stars can of
course just as well be imbedded in a narrative of divine hierarchy and power, in which case
the very survival and flourishing of man would depend on the foreknowledge of the rulers’
will (astrology proper). It is not clear to me that these two points of view are easily
compatible.

* * *

In conclusion, this survey has tried to show that astrology does not play as central a part in
the extant philosophical Hermetica as one might have expected. What one can say,
however, is that the peculiar metaphysics and anthropology espoused in these texts must
have been, historically speaking, conducive to the rise of horoscopic astrology.37 In contrast,
the main and most authentic Hermetic idea seems to be one that concerns human
consciousness, proclaiming the discovery that each individual human being is part of the
absolute consciousness of god, which in turn is the ultimate creative principle of the
universe. God is visible and manifest in the world’s entirety, but his principal physical
manifestation and counterpart is the light of the sun. Hermetism urges the reader to come
to the realization of just this belief, and to practice contemplatio caeli as part of a natural
theology that hopes to facilitate man’s return to the deity. The heavens are symbolic of
divinity as such and give, as cosmic adornment, powerful testimony to divine goodness.
Man’s privilege and purpose is to gaze at the stars in admiration and recognize the divine
presence in them. Exact observation, calculation and the prediction of astral positions do
not belong to this kind of mindset, and action at a distance seems to have been restricted
mostly to the sun.

However, one can see how Hermetism so understood could serve as the metaphysical
groundwork for astrology proper, and if we can trust the evidence, the texts also speak of a
quite different version of celestial symbolism. In this version of Hermetism, the heavens are
described as symbols of power and influence; they endow mankind with the ability to rule
over nature. Man needs these powers because the world is not entirely hospitable and
benevolent; the stars and planets are seen as portent bearers of providence, necessity and

37
As opposed to the so-called judicial astrology mainly practiced by the Babylonians. On
the distinction, see Neugebauer (1946).

22
fate, and the observation and interpretation of the stars as symbols of the quality of time is
elevated to the level of the master science of astrology.

It is not unreasonable to believe that the former kind of solar religion stands rather close to
the original form of Hermetism, an astral philosophy that bears conscious witness to the
divine creation and venerates the invisible creator through the visible, the Sun. In contrast,
in the other type of approach to the cosmos, now conceived as considerably less benign,
even evil, a premium is put on astrology as the art that the protects against the potentially
harmful influences of fate ordained by the celestial rulers. It is perhaps not too far fetched
to suggest that one kind of discourse is reminiscent of the Amarna-style religion of solar
light, whereas the other looks more like Hellenistic astral discourse influenced by both
Babylonian astrology and Greek natural philosophy. It seems indisputable that the
Hermetica emerge from an Egyptian background; nevertheless, it is remarkable that
neither variety of astral discourse on display taps into the traditional Egyptian concern for
the necessity of upholding, through priestly ritual, the cosmic order or the continuation of
the balance between earth and sky. There is no talk, for example, of Egyptian deities, of
Ma’at, or of the risings and settings of Sirius.38 It seems that there may well be a good
historical explanation for this.

38
Cf. Campion 2012: 82-93. Which is why Hermetism does not feature much, if at all, in
the available discussions of Egyptian astronomical writings; see e.g. Cumont (1937),
Neugebauer (1942), Neugebauer and Parker (1960–69), Parker (1974), Slosman (1983),
Maravelia (2006).

23
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