The Tree of Life: A Study in Magic

PART ONE

MAGIC IS THE TRADITIONAL SCIENCE OF THE SECRETS OF NATURE WHICH HAS BEEN TRANSMITTED TO US FROM THE MAGI.

ELIPHAS LEVI.

CHAPTER ONE

A COMMON expression on the lips of many is the reiteration that mankind today with all its ills and aberrations, flounders blindly in a terrible morass. Death-dealing and with octopus-like tentacles of destruction, this morass clutches him more and more firmly to its breast, albeit with great subtlety and with stealth. Civilization, curiously enough, modern civilization, is its name. The tentacles which are the unwitting instruments of its catastrophic blows reach out from the diseased structure, false and loathsome, of the decaying social system and the set of values wherein we are involved. And now, the entire fabric of the social world appears in process of disintegration. The structure of national organization would appear to be veering from economic ruin to that final crazy lurch which may see it disappear over the gaping precipice to complete destruction. Rooted firmly in the fullness of the individual life, the hitherto stout bulwarks of our life are threatened as never have they been before. More and more impossible does it seem with the setting of each sun for anyone to retain even the slightest portion of his divine heritage, individuality, and to exert that which makes him man. Despite being born in our age and time, those few individuals who are aware with a certainty in which there is no doubt of a destiny propelling them imperiously forward to the fulfilment of their ideal natures, constitute perhaps the sole exceptions. These, the minority, are the born Mystics, the Artists and Poets, those who see beyond the veil and bring back the light of beyond. Included within the mass, however, is yet another minority who, while not fully conscious of an all-compelling destiny, nor the nature of its deeper self, aspires to be different from the complacent masses. With an inner anxiety it is restless to obtain an abiding spiritual integrity. It is mercilessly ground underfoot by the social system of which it is a part, and harshly ostracized by the mass of its fellows. The verities and possibilities of a reintegrating contact with reality, one which can be instigated here and now, during life and not necessarily upon the death of the body, are blindly ignored. The attitude, singularly unwise, adopted by the greater part of modern intelligent European humanity towards this aspiration constitutes a grave danger to the race. It has permitted itself only too eagerly to forget that upon which it actually depends, and from which it is constantly nourished and sustained in both its inward and outward life. Avidly seizing upon the fluctuating evanescence of the hasty exterior existence, its negligence of affairs spiritual, as well as its impatience with the more far-seeing of its fellows, is a mark of extreme race-weariness and nostalgia.

It is a well-worn saying but one none the less true and none the less worthy of repetition, inasmuch as it expresses peculiarly the situation now widely prevalent, that where there is no vision the people perish. Mankind as a whole, or more particularly the Western element, has lost in some incomprehensible way its spiritual vision. An heretical barrier has been erected separating itself from that current of life and vitality which even now, despite wilful impediment and obstacle, pulses and vibrates passionately in the blood, pervading the whole of universal form and structure. The anomalies presented to-day are due to this rank absurdity. Mankind s slowly accomplishing its own suicide. A self-strangulation is being effected through a suppression of all individuality, in the spiritual sense, and all that made it human. It continues to withhold the spiritual atmosphere from its lungs, so to speak. And having severed itself from the eternal and never-ceasing sources of light and life and inspiration, it has deliberately blinded itself to the fact—than which no other could compare in importance—that there is a dynamic principle both within and without from which it has accomplished a divorce. The result is inner lethargy, chaos, and the disintegration of all that formerly was held to be ideal and sacred.

Laid down centuries ago, the doctrine taught by the Buddha commends itself to me as providing a possible reason for this divorce, chaos and decay. To the majority of people existence is inevitably bound up with suffering and sorrow and pain. Now although Buddha did teach that life was fraught with pain and misery, I am inclined to believe, when remembering the psychology of Mysticism and of Mystics, whose peer he undoubtedly was, that this viewpoint was adopted by him only to spur men forward from chaos to the attainment of a superior mode of life. Once the viewpoint of the personal ego, the outcome of ages of evolution, has been transcended man may see the iron fetters of ignorance roll away to reveal an untrammelled vision of supreme beauty, the world as a living thing and a joy for ever and ever. Is there not for all to see the beauty of the Sun and the Moon, the pageantry of the changing seasons in the year, the sweet music of daybreak, and the spell of nights under the open sky? What of the rain falling through the leaves of trees towering to the gates of heaven, and the dew in early morning creeping over the grass, tipping it with spear-points of silver? Most readers will have heard of the experience of the great German Mystic, Jacob Boehme, who, after his divine beatific vision, walked into the green fields close to his village, beholding the whole of Nature ablaze with so glorious a light that even the tender blades of grass were resplendent with a divine loveliness and beauty that never had he seen before. Great Mystic that the Buddha was—beyond perhaps any other within the knowledge of the average reader—and great his insight into the working of the human mind, it is impossible to accept on its face value his pronouncement that life and living are a curse. Rather do I feel that this philosophic attitude was adopted by him in the hope that once again might mankind be induced to seek the inimitable wisdom which it had lost, to restore the inner equilibrium and the harmony of soul, thus fulfilling its destiny unrestricted by sense and mind. Preventing this ecstatic enjoyment of life and all that the sacrament of life can give, there is one root cause of sorrow. In a word, ignorance. Because he is ignorant of what he really is in himself, ignorant of his true way in life, man is, as the Buddha taught, so beset with sorrow and so sorely afflicted with distress.

According to the traditional philosophy of the Magicians, every man is a unique autonomous centre of individual consciousness, energy and will—a soul, in a word. Like a star shining and existing by its own inward light it pursues its way in the star-spangled heavens, solitary, uninterfered with, except in so far as its heavenly course is gravitationally modified by the presence, near or far, of other stars. Since in the vast stellar spaces seldom are there conflicts between the celestial bodies, unless one happens to stray from its appointed course—a very rare occurrence—so in the realms of humankind there would be no chaos, little conflict and no mutual disturbance were each individual content to be grounded in the reality of his own high consciousness, aware of his ideal nature and his true purpose in life, and eager to pursue the road which he must follow. Because men have strayed from the dynamic sources inhering within themselves and the universe, and have forsaken their true spiritual wills, because they have divorced themselves from the celestial essences, betrayed by a mess of more sickly pottage than ever Jacob did sell to Esau, the world in this day presents a people with so hopeless an aspect, and a humanity impressed with so despondent a mien. Ignorance of the course of the celestial orbit, and the significance of that orbit inscribed in the skies for ever, is the root which is at the bottom of universal dissatisfaction, unhappiness and race-nostalgia. And because of this the living soul cries for help to the dead, and the creature to a silent God. Of all this crying there comes usually—nothing. The lifting up of the hands in supplication brings no inkling of salvation. The frantic gnashing of teeth results but in mute despair and loss of vital energy. Redemption is only from within and is wrought out by the soul itself with suffering and through time, with much endeavour and strain of the spirit.

How, then, may we return to this ecstatic identity with our deeper selves? In what way may this necessary union be accomplished between the individual soul and the Essences of universal reality? Where is the road which leads eventually to the improvement and betterment of the individual and consequently to the solution of the perplexing problems in the world of men?

§

The appearance of genius, regardless of the several aspects and fields of its manifestation, is marked by the occurrence of a curious phenomenon whose accompaniment is most always vision and ecstasy supreme. This experience to which I have reference is indubitably the hall-mark and essential stigmata of genuine accomplishment. Not to mediocrity is this apocalyptic experience vouchsafed. To the commonplace person, burdened as he is with dogma and an out-worn tradition, there seldom comes that flash of spiritual light making descent in splendid tongues of flame like the Pentecostal Holy Ghost, radiant with joy and the highest wisdom, pregnant with spontaneous inspiration. The sophisticated, the blasé, the dilettanti—these are debarred by insuperable barriers from the merits of its benediction. To those having talent alone this revelation does not come, although talent may be the stepping stone to genius. Genius is not, nor has it ever been in years gone by, the result of merely infinite care and patience. But little importance I think need be attached to the oft-iterated definition concerning a certain very high percentage of perspiration plus a very small remainder of inspiration. No matter how great the value of perspiration, it cannot produce the magnificent effects of genius. In every field of endeavour in daily life, on every side do we see performed a vast amount of excellent work, indispensable for what it is, and the shedding literally of quarts of perspiration without in fact the evocation of a fractional part of a creative idea or exaltation. These outward expressions in genius—care, patience, perspiration —are simply the manifestations of a superabundance of energy proceeding from a hidden centre of consciousness. They are but the media by which the genius distinguishes itself, striving to make known those ideas and thoughts which have been hurtled into the consciousness and penetrated that border-line which successfully marks off and divides the profane from that which is divine. Genius in itself is caused by or proceeds concomitantly with a spiritual experience of the highest intuitional order. It is an experience which, thundering from the empyrean like a fiery bolt from Jove's seat, carries with it an instantaneous inspiration and an enduring uprightness, with a fulfilment of all the yearnings of the mind and the emotional make-up.

Into the primary cause of this experience, familiar to those rare individuals whose lives have thus been blessed from early childhood even to their lattermost days, I do not wish to enquire. Such an enquiry would take me too far afield, leading as it would into the realm of metaphysic and philosophic impalpabilities, into which I am for the moment unwilling to enter. Reflection however does yield one very significant fact. Those individuals who have received the title of genius and named by mankind as of the greatest, have been the recipients of some such inimitable experience as I have mentioned. A generalization it may well be, but it is one which nevertheless carries with it the seal of truth. Many another lesser person whose life has been gladdened and brightened in a similar manner has been enabled thereby to accomplish a certain life work, artistic or secular, which otherwise had been impossible.

Now it is a more or less logical postulate, one which follows as a direct consequence of the preceding premise, that were it possible by a species of psychological and spiritual training to induce this experience within the consciousness of various men and women of to-day, humanity as a whole could be exalted even beyond the highest conceptions, and there would arise a mighty new race of supermen. In reality it is that goal whither evolution tends and which is envisaged by all the kingdoms of Nature. From the beginnings of time when intelligent man first appeared on the scene of evolution, there have existed technical methods of spiritual attainment by means of which might be ascertained the true nature of man, and by which, moreover, genius of the highest order developed. The latter, I might add, was conceived to be but the by-product and terrestrial efflorescence of the discovery of the orbit of the starry Self, and at no time, by the authorities of this Great Work, was in itself considered to be a worthy object of aspiration. Know thyself was the supreme injunction giving impetus to their high endeavour. If the creativity of genius followed as a result of the discovery of the innermost self and the tapping of the sources of universal energy, if inspiration by the Muses ensued or a stimulus in the direction of some art or philosophy or lay occupation, so much the better. At the outset of training, however, these Mystics—for so these authorities came to be known—were completely indifferent to any result other than a spiritual one. Self-knowledge and self-discovery—the word self being used in a lofty, noetic and transcendental sense—were the primary objectives.

If the arts have their origin in the expression of the Soul that listens and sees where for the outer mind are silence and the dark, then evidently Mysticism is one and perhaps the greatest of the arts, the apotheosis of artistic expression and endeavour. Mysticism by some sweet ordinance of Nature has been always and at all times the most sacred of the arts. The Mystic indeed bears within his bosom that tranquillity which oft-times is registered on the quiet face of the priest uplifted to the altar. He is a recognized intermediary and mouthpiece, the dual keys being laid in his hands. He is, both the ages and his fellows in the other arts admit, more directly admitted to the Sanctuary within and more immediately controlled by the psyche. It is for this reason that his successes are a success for all men at all times. But bitterly reprobated, as almost a new ruin of Lucifer, are his quite frequent failures. A bad poet or a bad musician is but a reproach to his particular art, and his name soon perishes from the memory of his people. A charlatan or an imposter-magician, however, imperils the whole world, casting a heavy veil over the translucent light of the spirit which it was his principal duty to bring to the sons of men. It is for this reason also that he is only for the very few in every age; but likewise he is for all the few in all ages. Glorified with the beatitudes of all the artists and prophets of all the ages, he suffers ignominiously with their vilification, for they like himself are Mystics. He is lonely. He has drawn away into the subjective solitudes. Where he is gone —whither few can follow him unless they too have the keys—he is eulogiously acclaimed with song and dithyramb.

Not a theoretical knowledge of the Self is it that the Mystic seeks, a purely intellectual philosophy of the Universe—although that too has its place. The Mystic seeks a deeper level of acquaintance. Despite their rhetoric as to the absoluteness of reason, the logicians and philosophers of all time were inwardly convinced of the fundamental inadequacy and impotency of the ratiocinative faculty. Within it, they believed, was an element of self-contradiction which nullified its use in the quest for supreme reality. In proof of this the whole history of philosophy stands as eloquent witness. It was the belief of those who were Mystics, and experience repeatedly gave confirmation thereto, that it was only by transcending the mind, or that into the mind emptied of all content and made calm like a lagoon of still blue water, could a glimpse of Eternity be mirrored. When the modifications of the thinking principle had been stilled or transcended, when the constant whirling which is a characteristic of the normal mind has been quelled, and a serene tranquillity substituted, only then could there occur that vision of spirituality, that lofty experience of the ages illuminating the whole being with warmth of inspiration and profundity and a depth of imaginings of the highest and all-embracing kind.

The technique of Mysticism divides itself naturally into two major divisions. The one is Magic, with which this treatise will deal; the other is Yoga. Now it is necessary to register a vehement protest against those critics who, in opposition to Mysticism—by which term some such process as Yoga or Contemplation is understood—posit Magic as a thing completely apart, unspiritual and of the earth gross. This classification I hold to be contrary to the implications of both systems and quite inaccurate, as I shall hereafter try to show. Yoga and Magic, the reflective and the exalted methods respectively, are both different phases comprehended in the one-term Mysticism. However often abused and misused as a word, Mysticism is throughout this book used because it is the correct term for that Mystical or ecstatic relationship of the Self to the Universe. It expresses the relation of the individual to a more comprehensive consciousness either within or without himself when, going beyond his own personal needs, he discovers his adjustment to larger, more harmonious ends. If this definition be in consonance with our views then it is obvious that Magic, also devised to accomplish that same necessary relationship, albeit by different methods, may not satisfactorily be placed against the other, and the advantages of one system panegyrically chanted as against the inadequacies of the other. For the finer aspects of Magic are a part, as the best of Yoga is also a part, of that all-inclusive system— Mysticism.

On the subject of Yoga much has been written; some of it rubbish, some little exceedingly worth while. But the whole secret of the Way of Royal Union is contained in the second aphorism of the Patanjali Yoga Sutras. Yoga seeks to arrive at Reality by undermining the foundations of the ordinary waking consciousness, so that upon the tranquil sea of mentality which follows upon the cessation of all thought, the inner eternal Sun of spiritual splendour could shine to shed an irradiation of light and life and immortality, to enhance the whole worth of man. All the practices and exercises in the Yoga systems are so many scientific steps, having as their one objective the complete abeyance of all thought at will. The mind must be thoroughly emptied at will of its content. Magic, on the other hand, is a mnemonic system of psychology in which the almost interminable ceremonial details, the circumambulations, conjurations, and suffumigations are deliberately intended for the exaltation of the imagination and soul, with the utter transcending of the normal plane of thought. In the one case, the spiritual axe is laid to the root of the tree, and the effort made consciously to undermine the whole structure of consciousness in order to reveal the soul below. The Magical method, as opposed to this, endeavours to rise altogether beyond the plane where trees and roots and axes exist. The result in both cases—ecstasy and a marvellous outpouring of gladness, wildly rapturous and incomparably holy—is identical. It may be realized without difficulty then that the ideal means of finding the perfect pearl, the jewel of untold price, through which one may see the holy city of God, is a judicious combination of both techniques. In any event, Magic proves more efficacious and puissant when combined with the control of the mind which it is the object of Yoga to achieve. And likewise the ecstasies of Yoga acquire a certain rosy hue of romanticism and inspirational worth when associated with the art of Magic.

Needless to say, then, when I speak here of Magic I have reference to the Divine Theurgy praised and reverenced by antiquity. It is of a quest spiritual and divine that I write; a task of self-creation and reintegration, the bringing into human life of something eternal and enduring. Magic is not that popularly conceived practice which is the child of hallucination begotten by savage ignorance, and which panders to the lusts of a depraved mankind. Because of the ignorant duplicity of charlatans and the reticence of its own scribes and authorities, Magic for centuries has been unduly confused with Witchcraft and Demonolatry. With the exception of but a few works which have either been too specialized in their appeal or distinctly unsuitable for the general public, nothing has hitherto been issued to act as a definitive statement of what Magic really is. This work does not pretend to deal in any way with love-charms, philtres and potions, nor with amulets preventing one's neighbour's cow from giving milk, robbing him of his wife, or to ascertain the whereabouts of gold and hidden treasure. Such vile and stupid practices rightly deserve that much-abused term Black Magic. With this aspect of things this study has naught to do; although at the same time it is not to be understood that I deny the reality or efficacy of these methods. But if any man is anxious to discover the eternal font wherefrom the flame of Godhead springs, should there be one who is desirous of awakening in himself a more noble and lofty consciousness of the spirit, and within whose heart burns the aspiration to dedicate his life to the service of mankind, let such a one turn eagerly to Magic. In its technique, peradventure may be found the means to the fulfilment of the loftiest dreams of the soul.

From academic sources Magic is denned as the art of applying natural causes to produce surprising effects. With this definition —and also with the view of a writer such as Havelock Ellis that it is a name given to the whole stream of individual human action— we are in complete accord, inasmuch as every conceivable act in the whole span of life is a magical act. What supernatural effect could be more astonishing or miraculous than a Christ, a Plato, or the Shakespeare who was the natural offspring of the marriage of two peasants? What more marvellous and surprising than the growth of a tiny babe to the full maturity of manhood? Any and every exertion of the will—the uplifting of an arm, the utterance of a word, the silent germination of a thought—all these are by definition magical acts. The surprising effects, however, which Magic seeks to encompass occupy a somewhat different plane of action than do those just enumerated, although the latter, because they are so common, are none the less surprising and thaumaturgic. The result which the Magician above all else desires to accomplish is a spiritual reconstruction of his own conscious universe and incidentally that of all mankind, the greatest of all conceivable changes. The technique of Magic is one by which the soul flies, straight as an arrow impelled from a taut bow, to serenity, to a profound and impenetrable repose.

But it is only man himself who may tauten the string of the bow; none else may accomplish this task for him. It is of course in this qualifying clause that lurks the flaw. Salvation must be self-induced and self-devised. The universal essences and cosmic centres are ever-present, but towards them man must take the first step and then, as Zoroaster has said in the Chaldæan Oracles, the blessed immortals are swift to come. The cause and maker of fate and destiny is man himself. As he acts so must the course of his future existence be. Not only so, but in the hollow of his palm rests the fate of all mankind. Not a large number of individuals will feel equal to awakening the dormant courage and the grim determination which masters the universe, that thus by a road direct and free of obstacle mankind may be led to a nobler ideal and a fuller and more harmonious mode of life. Were only a few men to exert themselves to discover what they really are, and ascertain beyond all cavil the scintillating refulgence of bright glory and wisdom burning in the innermost heart, and discover the bonds connecting them with the universe, then I think they will have accomplished not only their own individual purpose in life and fulfilled their own destiny, but, what is infinitely more important, they will have fulfilled the destiny of the universe considered as one vast living organism of consciousness.

What is meant by lighting a candle? In this process only the uppermost portion of the candle bears the flame. Although only the wick is lighted, yet customarily one speaks of the candle itself as being alight and illuminating the darkness around. In this may be found a suggestive reference having significant application to the world at large. If only a few people in each country, each race, each people throughout the world find themselves and enter into a hallowed communion with the very Source of Life, then they because of their illumination become the wick of humanity and cast a resplendent and glorious aureole of gold over the universe. In those individuals who constitute a minute, almost microscopic minority of the populace of this globe, willing and eager to devote themselves to a spiritual cause, lies the only hope for the ultimate redemption of mankind. Eliphas Levi, the celebrated French Magician, hazards a novel view which I think may have some bearing on this problem and throws an illuminating ray on this proposition. God creates eternally, he writes, the great Adam, the universal and perfect man, who contains in a single spirit all spirits and all souls. Intelligences therefore live two lives at once, one general which is common to them all, and the other special and individual.

This protoplastic Adam is called in that Qabalistic work named The Book of Splendour the Heavenly Man, and it comprises in one being, as the erudite Magus observes, the souls of all men and creatures and dynamic forces which pulse through every portion of stellar space. I do not wish to enter metaphysics just at this moment, to discuss whether this primordial universal being is created by God or whether it has simply evolved from infinite space. All I desire to consider now is that the totality of all life in the universe, vast and widespread, is this heavenly being, the Oversoul as some other philosophers have known it, created for ever in the heavens. In this cosmic body we, individuals and beasts and Gods, are the minute cells and molecules, each having a separate function to perform in the social polity and welfare of that Soul. This philosophical theory admirably suggests that as in the man of earth there is an intelligence governing man's actions and thoughts, so there is likewise, figuratively speaking, in the Celestial Man a soul which is its central intelligence and its most important faculty. All that which exists upon the Earth has its spiritual counterpart on high, and there exists nothing in this world which is not attached to something Above, and is not found in dependence upon it. So wrote the doctors of the Qabalah. As in man the grey cerebral substance is the most sensitive, nervous and refined in the body, so also the most sensitive, developed and spiritually advanced beings in the universe comprise the heart and soul and intelligence of the Heavenly Man. It is in this sense, in short, that the few who undertake to perform the Great Work, that is to find themselves from a spiritual point of view, and to identify their whole consciousness with the Universal Essences, as Iamblichus terms them, or the Gods, who constitute the heart and soul of the Heavenly Man—these are the servants of mankind. They accomplish the work of redemption and fulfil the destiny of Earth.

Mysticism—Magic and Yoga—is the means, therefore, to a new universal life, richer, greater and more full of resource than ever before, as free as sunlight, as gracious as the unfolding of a rose. It is for man to take.

CHAPTER TWO

IT is highly probable that with the noise as of thunder there will issue from certain sources the condemnation that the system indicated in this work as Magic has sole reference to that principle in the constitution of man which pertains exclusively to the lower nature. In consequence of this classification it is not difficult to anticipate that the whole Theurgic technique will be roundly condemned as psychism in, for example, Theosophical circles. As a matter of fact, as but little study need demonstrate, the condemnation is misplaced and totally unjustified. To correct this view for all time is The Tree of Life issued to the reading public. I loathe this Theosophical glibness of expression. I must be permitted to register a hatred of their too-facile classification, their perpetual readiness to apply labels of scathing opprobrium to things not altogether understood. Were it not that I feel so deeply concerning Magic—holding that in it may be found the means to storm the kingdom of heaven by violence—this Theosophical abuse and intended censure would be deservedly ignored and relegated to that sphere of contempt to which it so rightly belongs. There has been altogether too much misunderstanding of what Magic is and what it sets out to do, and it is time to clear up once and for all this constant source of confusion by laying down the elementary principles of its art.

In her renowned Stanzas of Dzyan, upon which the entire Secret Doctrine is arranged as commentary, Madame Blavatsky informs us that each man is a shadow or a spark of a divinity of superlative wisdom, power and spirituality. These sentient beings are called by one of the Theurgic authorities Gods or universal Essences. A present-day Theosophical authority, Dr. Gottfried de Purucker, writes: The finest part of the constitution of the human being is, in each case, a child of the spiritual part of one or another of the glorious suns scattered through frontierless space. Ye are gods in your inmost parts, atoms of some spiritual sun. . . . The definition accorded a God in The Secret Doctrine is of an hierarchical being which in remotest epochs of evolutionary endeavour, long, long ago, was once a human being such as we are now. By dint of effort and conscious progress it unified itself with that Spiritual Reality diffused throughout the ramifications and foundations of the universe. At the time of union, however, the essential individuality of experience was retained. But the personality transcended, the being resumed its natural rôle of ruler, as it were, or Regent of the universe, or some particular portion or aspect of the universe. Since, therefore by this definition, man is the spark of so lofty a consciousness, a child of the cosmic gods, there is no alternative to the tenor of his life than that to his spiritual progenitors he should aspire for union. It is to effect this union that Magic owes its origin and its raison d'êre.

Within these pages I hope to show that the technique of Magic is in closest accord with the traditions of the highest antiquity, and that it possesses the sanction, expressed or implicit, of the