THE LIFE OF THE MYSTIC
By A. E. WAITE

    There are certain conventional terms which, on the one hand, do
not accurately represent the construction placed upon them along a
given line, but that construction has been accepted so long and so
generally that the defect in the application may be regarded as
partially effaced; and, on the other hand, there are also conventional
terms between which a distinction has come into existeijce, although
it is not justified by their primary significance. As regards the
first class, the very general use of the term "occult movement" may be
taken as an example. It is inexact after two manners: in involves at
once too much and too little-too much, because it has served to
represent a good deal that is not at all of the occult order; and too
little, because a slight change in the point of view would bring
within the range of its meaning many things which nobody who now uses
it would think of including therein. The doings of more than one great
secret political organisation might, in the full sense of the words,
require to be classed as part of the occult movement, though no one
will need to be informed that the latter is not political; while
certain events which have occurred and are occurring in the open day,
and have all along challenged the verdict of public opinion, cannot
strictly be included in occultism, as they betray none of its
external characteristics. I refer to the phenomena of animal
magnetism, hypnotism, spiritualism and all that which is included in
the field of psychical research. In respect of the second class, a
very clear differentiation now exists between the terms " occult" and
"mystic," and it is one also which it is necessary to recognise,
though, fundamentally speaking, the two words are identical, differing
only in the fact that one of them is of Latin and the other of Greek
origin  By the occultist we have come to understand the disciple of
one or all of the secret sciences; the student, that is to say, of
alchemy, astrology, the forms and methods of divination, and of the
mysteries which used to be included under the generic description of
magic. The mystic is, at the first attempt, perhaps more difficult to
describe, except in the terminology of some particular school of
thought; he has no concern as such with the study of the secret
sciences; he does not work on materials or investigate forces which
exist outside himself; but he endeavours, by a certain training and
the application of a defined rule of life to reestablish
correspondence with the divine nature from which, in his belief, he
originated, and to which his return is only a question of time, or
what is commonly uderstood as evolution. The distinction between the
occultist and the mystic, however much the representative of physical
science at the present day might be disposed to resent the imputation,
is therefore, loosely speaking, and at least from one point of view,
the distinction between the man of science and the man of
introspection. The statement, as we shall see, is not exhaustive, and
it is not indeed descriptive.  It may be said more fully, in the words
of the late Edward Maitland, that the occultist is concerned with
"transcendental physics, and is of the intellectual, belonging to
science," while the mystic "deals with transcendental metaphysics, and
is of the spiritual, belonging to religion." Expressed in modern
terms, this is really the doctrine of Plotinus, which recognises "the
subsistence of another intellect, different from that which reasons,
and which is denominated rational." Thus, on the one hand, there are
the phenomena of the transcendental produced on the external plane,
capable of verification and analysis, up to a certain point; and, on
the other, there is the transcendental life. "That which is without
corresponds with that which is within," says the most famous Hermetic
maxim; indeed the connection suggested is almost that of the
circumference with the centre ; and if there is a secret of the soul
expressed by the term mysticism, the phenomena of the soul manifesting
on the external plane must be regarded as important; but these are the
domain of occultism. The importance must, of course, differ as the
phenomena fall into higher and lower; the divinations of geomancy
carry an appearance of triviality, while the design of ceremonial
magic to establish communication with higher orders of extra-mundane
intelligence wears a momentous aspect; but both are the exercise of
seership, and this gift, as a testimony of the soul and her powers, is
never trivial.
    Assuming therefore a relationship subsisting between occult
practice and the transcendental life of the soul, it seems worth while
to contrast for a moment the work of the mystic with that of the
disciple of occult science, so as to realise as accurately as possible
the points of correspondence and distinction between Ruysbroeck, St.
John of the Cross and Saint-Martin, as types of the mystic school, and
Arnoldus de Villanova and Martines de Pasqually, as representing the
school of occult science. The examples of such a contrast must
naturally be sought in the past, because, although occult science is
pursued at the present day, and by some ardently, it can scarcely be
said to have votaries like those who were of old. The inquiry belongs
also to the past in respect of the mystic, for, to speak plainly, the
saint belongs to the past. So far as the life of the outside world is
concerned, there is little opportunity amidst mundane distractions for
the whole-hearted labours of the other centuries. The desire of the
house is indeed among us, but the zeal of it is scarcely here, not, at
least, in the sense of the past.
    The distinction in question is more than that which is made
between the man of action and the man of reflection; it is not that
which we have come to regard as differentiating the man of science
from the philosopher. There are many instances of synthetic occult
philosophers- among them Cornelius Agrippa and Robert Fludd- who
neither divined nor evoked- who were not alchemists, astrologers or
theurgists- but rather interpreters and harmonisers; and yet these men
were not mystics in the proper sense of the term. Nor is the
distinction quite that which constitutes the essential difference
between the saint and the specialist, though the occult student of the
past was in most cases a specialist who was faithful to his particular
branch. The activity and the strenuousness of the life was often
greater with the mystic than in the case of the man who was dedicated
to some particular division of occult knowledge, though alchemist and
astrologer were both laborious men- men whose patience imbued them
with something of the spirit which governs modern scientific research.
The ground of the contrast is in the purpose which actuated the two
schools of experience. The crucible in which metals are transmuted, on
the assumption of alchemy, is still a crucible and the converted metal
is still a metal; so also the astrologer may trace the occult and
imponderable influences of the stars, but the stars are material
bodies.  The practical work of the mystic concerned, on the contrary,
the soul's union with God, for, to state it briefly, this, and this
only, is the end of mysticism. It is no study of psychic forces, nor,
except incidentally, is it the story of the soul and her development,
such as would be involved in the doctrine of reincarnation. It is
essentially a religious experiment and is the one ultimate and real
experiment designed by true religion.  It is for this reason that in
citing examples of mystics, I have chosen two men who were eminent for
sanctity in the annals of the Christian Church, for we are concerned
only with the West; while the third, though technically out of
sympathy, essentially belonged to the Church. I must not, therefore,
shrink from saying that the alternative name of the mystic is that of
the saint when he has attained the end of his experiment. There are
also other terms by which we may describe the occultist, but they
refer to the science which he followed.
    The life of the mystic was then in a peculiar sense the life of
sanctity. It was not, of course, his exclusive vocation; if we are to
accept the occult sciences at their own valuation, more than one of
them exacted, and that not merely by implication, something more than
the God-fearing, clean-living spirit, which is so desirable even in
the ordinary business man. He who was in search of transmutation was
counselled, in the first instance, to convert himself, and the device
on the wall of his laboratory was <I>Labora</I> but also <I>Ora</I>.
The astrologer, who calculated the influences of the stars on man, was
taught that, in the last resource, there was a law of grace by which
the stars were ruled. Even the conventional magician, he who called
and controlled spirits, knew that the first condition of success in
his curious art was to be superior to the weakness of the inconstant
creatures whose dwelling is amidst the flux of the elements.
    I have said that, in most cases, the occult student was, after his
manner, a specialist- he was devoted to his particular branch. Deep
down in the heart of the alchemist there may have been frequently the
belief that certain times and seasons were more favourable than others
for his work, and that the concealed materials which he thought of
symbolically as the Sun and Moon, as Mercury, Venus or Mars, were not
wholly independent of star and planet in the sky; and hence no doubt
he knew enough of elementary astrology to avoid afflicted aspects and
malign influences. But, outside this, the alchemist was not an
astrologer, and to be wise in the lore of the stars was an ambition
that was sufficient for one life, without meddling in the experiments
of alchemy. On the other hand, the mystic, in common with all the
members of his community, having only one object in view, and one
method of pursuing it- by the inward way of contemplation- had nothing
to differentiate and could not therefore specialise.
    Again, occult science justifies itself as the transmission of a
secret knowledge from the past, and the books which represent the
several branches of this knowledge bear upon them the outward marks
that they are among the modes of this transmission, without which it
is certain that there would be no secret sciences. The occult student
was, therefore, an initiate in the conventional sense of the term- he
was taught, even in astrology. There were schools of kabalism, schools
of alchemy, schools of magic, in which the mystery of certain
knowledge was imparted from adept to neophyte, from master to pupil.
It is over this question of corporate union that we have at once an
analogy and a distinction between the mystic and the occultist. The
former, as we find him in the West, may in a sense be called an
initiate because he was trained in the rule of the Church; but the
historical traces of secret association for mystic objects during the
Christian centuries are very slight, whereas the traces of occult
association are exceedingly strong. The mysteries of pre-Christian
times were no doubt schools of mystic experience. Plato and Plotinus
were assuredly mystics who were initiated in these schools.
Unfortunately the nature of this experience has come down to us, for
the most part, in a fragmentary and veiled manner. But, outside
exoteric writings, it has in my belief come down, and it is possible
to reconstruct it, at least intellectually and speculatively, for it
is embedded in the symbolic modes of advancement practised by certain
secret societies which now exist among us. A transmission of mystic
knowledge has therefore taken place from the past, but the evidence is
of an exceedingly complex nature and cannot be explained here. Nor is
it necessary to our purpose, for western mysticism is almost
exclusively the gift of the Church to the West, and the experiment of
Christian mysticism, without any veils or evasions, is written at
large in the literature of the Church. It may call to be re-expressed
for our present requirements in less restricted language, but there is
not really any need to go further. "The Ascent of Mount Carmel," "The
Adornment of the Spiritual Marriage," and "The Castle of the Inward
Man," contain the root-matter of the whole process. I have also found
it well and exhaustively described in obscure little French books
which might appear at first sight to be simply devotional manuals for
the use of schools and seminaries. I have found it in books equally
obscure which a few decades ago would have been termed Protestant.
There is the same independent unanimity of experience and purpose
through all which the alchemists have claimed for their own
literature, and I have no personal doubt that the true mystics of all
times and countries constitute an unincorporated fellowship
communicating continually together in the higher consciousness. They
do not differ essentially in the East or the West, in Plotintis or in
Gratry.
    In its elementary presentation, the life of the mystic consists
primarily in the detachment of the will from its normal condition of
immersion in material things and in its redirection towards the
goodwill which abides at the centre. This centre, according to the
mystics, is everywhere and is hence, in a certain sense, to be found
in all; but it is sought most readily, by contemplation, as at the
centre of the man himself, and this is the quest and finding of the
soul.  If there is not an open door- an entrance to the closed palace-
within us, we are never likely to find it without us. The rest of the
experiences are those of the life of sanctity leading to such a ground
of divine union as is possible to humanity in this life.
    In the distinction- analogical, as already said- which I have here
sought to establish, there lies the true way to study the lives of the
mystics and of those who graduated in the schools of occult science.
The object of that study, and of all commentary arising out of such
lives, is to lead those, and there are thousands, who are so
constituted as to desire the light of mysticism, to an intellectual
realisation of that light. The life of the mystic belongs to the
divine degree, and it would be difficult to say that it is attainable
in the life of the world; but some of its joys and consolations- as
indeed its trials and searchings- are not outside our daily ways.
Apart from all the heroisms, and in the outer courts only of the
greater ecstasies, there are many who would set their face towards
Jerusalem if their feet were put upon the way- and would thus turn
again home.

Scanned from the periodical "The Occult Review", vol. 1, no. 1, Jan.
1905, and formatted and corrected by hand.