2. Magical Equilibrium-c

Thus, the Magus should not live altogether in his laboratory, among his Atha-nors, Elixirs and Pantacles. However riveting be the glance of that Circe who is called occult power, we must be able to confront her on occasion with the sword of Ulysses, and resolutely withdraw our lips for a time from the chalice which she offers us. A magical operation should be followed by a rest of equal length and a distraction analogous but contrary in its object. To strive continually against Nature in order to rule and conquer her is to risk reason and life. Paracelsus dared to do so, but even in the struggle itself he employed equilibrated forces and opposed the intoxication of wine to that of intelligence. So was Paracelsus a man of inspiration and miracles; yet his life was exhausted by this devouring activity, or rather its vestment was rapidly rent and worn out. But men like Paracelsus use and abuse fearlessly; they know that they can no more die than grow old here below. Nothing disposes us towards joy so effectually as sorrow; nothing is nearer to sorrow than joy. Hence the uninstructed operator is astounded by attaining the very opposite of his proposed results, because he does not know how to cross or alternate his action. He seeks to bewitch his enemy but himself becomes ill and miserable; he desires to make him-self loved, and is consumed for women who deride him; he endeavours to produce gold, and he exhausts all his resources; his torture is that of Tantalus: ever does the water flow back when he stoops down to drink. The ancients in their symbols and magical operations multiplied the signs of the duad, so that its law of equilibrium might be remembered. In their evocations they constructed two altars and immolated two victims, one white and one black; the operator, whether male or female, holding a sword in one hand and a wand in the other, had one foot shod and the other bared. Moreover, either one or three persons were required for magical works, because the duad would mean immobility or death in the absence of an equilibrating motor; and when a man and a woman participated in the ceremony, the operator was always a virgin, a hermaphrodite, or a child. I shall be asked whether the eccentricity of these Rites is arbitrary, and whether its one end is the exercise of the will by the mere multiplication of difficulties in magical work? I answer that in Magic there is nothing arbitrary, because everything is ruled and predetermined by the one and universal dogma of Hermes, that of analogy in the three worlds. Each sign corresponds to an idea and to the special form of an idea; each act expresses a volition corresponding to a thought, and formulates the analogies of that thought and will. The Rites are, therefore, prearranged by the science itself. An uninstructed person who is not acquainted with the threefold power is subject to its mysterious fascination; the sage understands it and makes it the instrument of his will. When the work is accomplished with exactitude and faith, it is never ineffectual. All magical instruments must be duplicated; there must be two swords, two wands, two cups, two chafing-dishes, two pantacles and two lamps; two vestments must be worn, one over the other, and they must be of contrasted colours, a rule still followed by Catholic priests; lastly, two metals must be worn at least, or otherwise none. The crown of laurel, rue, mugwort or vervain must be double, in like manner; one of them is used in evocations, while the other is burnt, the crackling which it makes and the curls of the smoke which it produces being observed as an augury.