The World According to Papus

The intellectual scene of the Belle Époque belonged to figures of great stature, but few matched the influence of Gérard Encausse. This French physician, better known by his pseudonym Papus, worked tirelessly to reconcile modern knowledge with the traditions of Antiquity. His life unfolded in a state of constant activity between medical consultations and work within societies devoted to intellectual inquiry, making him the “Balzac of occultism.”

An education between scientific rigor and spiritual curiosity

Gérard Anaclet Vincent Encausse was born on July 13, 1865, in La Coruña, Spain, into a family environment that already combined two strong and complementary influences. His father, Louis Encausse, a chemist of French origin, embodied a rigorous approach based on observation and experimentation, while his mother, who came from the Spanish nobility, passed on an older cultural heritage marked by a certain intellectual refinement and sensitivity to traditions. In 1869, the family left Spain and settled in Paris, a decisive choice that placed young Gérard at the heart of a particularly rich intellectual environment, where science, literature, and the most varied currents of thought of the late nineteenth century intersected.

In this context, he grew up surrounded by books and ideas, developing an early and sustained curiosity about knowledge, whether related to medicine, philosophy, or more discreet disciplines. He naturally turned toward medical studies, a path that reflected both his father’s influence and his own interest in understanding the human body. He regularly attended the wards of the Hôpital de la Charité, where he observed patients, medical practices, and the concrete limits of the science of his time. It was in this setting, both practical and demanding, that a dual vocation gradually took shape: on one side, the physician concerned with understanding the mechanisms of the body; on the other, the researcher drawn to what eluded purely material explanations.

Alongside his university training, he pursued personal research of remarkable intensity. He went almost daily to the Bibliothèque nationale de France, where he devoted long hours to studying ancient manuscripts, treatises on alchemy, and Kabbalistic texts. This immersion in ancient sources was not merely a matter of curiosity, but a genuine, structured inquiry aimed at understanding symbolic systems and the correspondences between body, mind, and world. The writings of Éliphas Lévi held a central place in his intellectual journey, serving as a foundation for his thinking and permanently shaping the way he approached the relationship between science and tradition.

In 1894, he received his medical doctorate, marking the official culmination of his university education. His thesis, devoted to philosophical anatomy, already demonstrated a clear desire to move beyond a strictly material reading of the human body by incorporating a broader dimension connected to the correspondences and invisible principles that structure the individual. This position, at the boundary between medicine and symbolic thought, characterized his entire later body of work. A few years earlier, around 1888, he had chosen to adopt the pseudonym Papus, a name taken from a Neoplatonic text in which it designated a healing spirit. This choice was far from incidental, as it affirmed his intention from that time onward to place himself within an ancient tradition in which medical knowledge and knowledge of invisible forces were not opposed, but formed part of the same quest for a comprehensive understanding of humanity.

The principle of analogy, or the key to interpreting the universe

Papus’s thought was organized around a central principle: analogy, which he regarded as the key to interpreting the world. In his view, the universe was not an assemblage of separate elements, but a coherent organism in which each part reflected the whole, like a fragmented mirror reproducing the same image in multiple forms. This conception led him to oppose directly the dominant scientism of his time, which limited the study of reality to what could be measured and directly observed. For him, occult science was not an imaginary construction or a mere ancient legacy; on the contrary, it was a structured method based on observing the links between the visible and invisible, and on an internal logic as demanding as that of the classical sciences. This method rested on the principle of correspondences, according to which every element of the earthly world formed part of a broader chain linking it to higher spheres, the stars, and celestial intelligences, creating an ordered network in which nothing was isolated. By gaining an understanding of these relationships, the initiate did not merely accumulate theoretical knowledge; they acquired the ability to act, because a trained and disciplined will could intervene in these connections and produce concrete effects in the world.

This logic could be found in the doctrine of signatures, which illustrated this system of analogies tangibly by directly linking natural forms to their uses. According to this conception, a plant carried visible indications of its function, like a discreet script inscribed in its shape, color, or structure. A leaf that resembled a human organ thus indicated a particular connection with it, suggesting a specific application in the art of healing. This way of reading nature was not an arbitrary interpretation; it belonged to an ancient tradition in which every element of the world participated in a global symbolic language. In the same spirit, Papus presented the human constitution through the image of a carriage and team, which made it possible to clearly understand the relationship between the different components of the being. The physical body corresponded to the carriage, the material support that provided structure but was incapable of movement on its own, while the astral body took the place of the horse, ensuring the circulation of vital forces and setting the whole in motion. The spirit, or will, occupied the position of the coachman, responsible for directing and guiding this system according to a precise intention. Health then appeared as the result of a balance between these three levels, because disorganization in the astral body ultimately caused a direct effect in the physical body, revealing the profound continuity that united all dimensions of the human being.

A monumental literary output

Papus wrote with a speed that astonished his contemporaries. He published around 160 volumes during his career. His ambition was to make the secrets of Antiquity accessible to a wider audience. He worked so that every seeker could have the tools for their development. His most substantial work appeared in 1891: the Methodical Treatise on Occult Science. This book of more than a thousand pages offered an overview of Kabbalah, alchemy, and astrology. It explained how the ancients used symbols to transmit immutable truths.

Another major reference work was the Methodical Treatise on Practical Magic. In it, Papus defined magic as the action of the will upon living forces. He addressed practitioners of magic seeking to understand astral fluids. He emphasized the operator’s preparation. Above all, the operator had to master their senses and passions before commanding the spirits of nature. The Tarot of the Bohemians appeared in 1889. This book established itself as the absolute key to the occult sciences.

The Martinist Order and initiatory fraternity

In 1891, Papus founded the Martinist Order alongside Augustin Chaboseau, following a discovery that gave their undertaking particular legitimacy. The two men realized that each possessed an initiatory lineage derived from Louis-Claude de Saint-Martin, a major figure in the Martinist movement, which led them to structure and organize this transmission so that it could take a stable and transmissible form. Their project emerged in a specific context marked by the rise of Eastern doctrines spread throughout Europe by the Theosophical Society, to which they opposed a clear determination to preserve and restore a Western tradition rooted in its own texts and methods. The Martinist Order thus presented itself as a framework for inner work and fraternity, open to both men and women, where study and personal experience advanced together, with the aim of reintegrating human beings into their original states, according to a conception inherited directly from Saint-Martin.

Very quickly, the order’s influence extended beyond the Parisian circle and spread internationally, with lodges opening in Europe, America, and Russia, testifying to its genuine reach. Papus played a central role in this expansion by using his journal L'Initiation as a means of dissemination, correspondence, and coordination among dispersed members. At the same time, he maintained close ties with the Kabbalistic Order of the Rose-Cross founded by Stanislas de Guaita, with whom he shared a common vision of renewing esoteric studies. A strong relationship developed between the two men, nourished by joint work on texts, traditions, and practices, particularly ancient bibliography and alchemy. This collaboration formed part of an active research dynamic in which theory and experimentation came together, to the point that an anecdote reported among their circle referred to an allegedly successful transmutation attempt following the rediscovery of a red powder mentioned in an old book. The episode illustrates the spirit of these circles, where study was not limited to reading but continued through concrete and deliberate experiments.

Practices and training of the operative mage

For Papus, magic was not synonymous with an imaginary construction or a mere intellectual backdrop; it asserted itself as a genuine applied science based on precise laws that the operator had to learn to recognize and master. From this perspective, every outward action first required rigorous inner work, because an individual could not claim to influence the world unless they governed their own organism with discipline. The will occupied a central place here, not as a vague intention, but as a directed force acting from a point of support situated on the astral plane, which served as a link between idea and realization. Papus emphasized the need for regular exercises intended to strengthen this will through learning bodily stillness, controlling the breath, and maintaining constant attention to inner movements. In this context, imagination did not mean an escape into dreams or a distraction of the mind; it was an active tool capable of giving form to subtle currents by shaping what Papus called astral fluids, thereby enabling the operator to structure their action coherently and effectively.

This vision extended to the entire invisible world, which Papus described as an animated and organized realm populated by forces and entities with which it was possible to establish contact. In this regard, he drew on the teachings of Paracelsus, particularly his classification of elemental beings, which divided these entities according to the four fundamental elements. Gnomes were associated with earth and watched over buried riches, embodying a form of stability and preservation connected to the underground world. Undines belonged to the element of water and were attuned to the movements of life and emotions, participating in the circulation of vital forces. Sylphs inhabited the domain of air, associated with intellect and thought, while salamanders manifested in fire, the principle of energy and transformation. In this approach, the operator did not seek to compel these beings, but to establish a relationship with them based on knowledge and respect, because tradition held that understanding their names and functions made it possible to obtain their assistance in certain workings, particularly healing and protection, provided one operated within a controlled framework and in accordance with the laws governing these invisible planes.

Synarchy as a social model founded on harmony

Gérard Encausse did not limit his activities to study and experiments conducted in restricted circles, as his thinking extended directly to the question of social organization and the future of European societies. Under the influence of Saint-Yves d'Alveydre, he adopted and defended the principle of Synarchy, a model presented as a structured response to the political disorder and tensions of his time. This system opposed anarchy by proposing an order founded on principles considered stable and enduring, in which each function found its place within a hierarchical yet balanced whole. Synarchy rested on a division into three distinct councils, each reflecting an essential aspect of collective life: an Economic Council responsible for production and material exchanges, a Council of Justice ensuring legal balance and relations between individuals, and a Council of Authority bringing together those who embodied the moral and spiritual direction of society. This organization did not aim at arbitrary domination, but at a clear distribution of responsibilities, with each sphere operating according to its own logic while remaining connected to the others.

From this perspective, Papus saw Synarchy as a means of restoring a form of balance capable of preventing the conflicts threatening Europe in his time. He viewed with concern the rise of nationalism and the growing influence of a materialism he considered reductive, because it cut societies off from any higher dimension. In response to this development, he imagined a reconciliation of peoples based on recognition of a shared spiritual authority capable of transcending particular interests and restoring overall coherence. His social vision rested directly on the principle of analogy that ran throughout his thought, considering that society should function like a healthy human body, in which each organ fulfilled its function without encroaching on those of others while contributing to the overall balance. This conception did not remain theoretical, as he regularly developed these ideas in the pages of L'Initiation, where he discussed the reforms he considered necessary, seeking to connect traditional principles with the concrete issues of his time in an attempt to give practical scope to a form of thought that was not limited to speculation.

The turn toward faith and missions at the Russian court

Beginning in 1894, Papus’s path took a clear turn linked to a meeting that had a lasting impact on his inner development. He met Nizier-Anthelme Philippe, a singular figure in the spiritual landscape of the time, renowned for his healing abilities and for an authority based not on book learning but on direct, lived experience. This encounter gradually shifted the way Papus viewed practice, as he moved away from the elaborate constructions of ceremonial magic toward a more inward approach centered on prayer, simplicity, and surrender to a higher will. This change did not represent a renunciation, but a maturation in which the discipline and knowledge he had acquired found an extension in a more direct relationship with the divine. In his correspondence, he expressed profound gratitude toward the man he regarded as a guide, going so far as to describe the rediscovery of faith and Christ as a decisive turning point in his life.

At the same time, his influence extended far beyond French circles and reached imperial Russia, where his name circulated among circles close to the seat of power. He traveled several times to Saint Petersburg, in 1901, 1905, and 1906, and established close ties with Nicholas II and Alexandra Feodorovna, who saw him as an adviser capable of offering spiritual insight during a troubled period. In this context, Papus acted as an attentive presence, seeking to protect the imperial family from influences deemed harmful and to establish around them a more stable framework on the invisible plane. He also founded a Martinist lodge within the court, thereby extending his organizational work into an unexpected environment. A widely reported anecdote recounts a declaration made to the Tsar that the revolution could not break out as long as he remained alive, a statement that took on particular significance when his death was followed shortly afterward by the fall of the imperial dynasty, reinforcing the image of a man whose words and presence seemed, in the eyes of his contemporaries, connected to balances extending beyond the merely political sphere.

The Great War and the physician’s final sacrifice

In 1914, when war broke out in Europe with the beginning of the First World War, Gérard Encausse did not remain on the sidelines and immediately enlisted as a volunteer major physician, faithful to the vocation he had never abandoned. He went to the front, where he took charge of an ambulance unit and confronted the brutal reality of the conflict, severe injuries, and the constant urgency of medical care each day. In these grueling circumstances, he applied his medical knowledge with remarkable rigor and dedication, devoting himself entirely to relieving the soldiers’ suffering without sparing himself or seeking to preserve his strength. This total commitment, reflecting a keen sense of duty and constant self-sacrifice, eventually had direct consequences for his health, as he contracted pulmonary tuberculosis through contact with the sick during the winter of 1914, under particularly difficult sanitary conditions.

Little by little, his condition deteriorated under the combined effects of accumulated fatigue and infection, forcing him to leave the front and return to Paris in the hope of a recovery that never came. The illness ran its course and gradually weakened an organism already exhausted by years of intense work. He died on October 25, 1916, leaving behind a considerable body of work that extended far beyond the bounds of his personal life. He now rests in Père-Lachaise Cemetery, an emblematic place where the memories of many notable figures converge. His influence did not disappear with him, as his writings continue to fuel the reflection of those interested in Western traditions and their transmission. He succeeded in making complex ideas accessible without compromising their coherence, maintaining a balance between clarity and rigor. His life as a physician and occultist was not a contradiction, but a continuity in which knowledge of the body and knowledge of invisible laws answered one another, leaving the image of a man who sought to restore to human beings a more complete understanding of themselves and their place in the order of the world.