Intensely suggestive, he is at the same time without much depth; splendid in generalisation, he is without accuracy in detail. It would be difficult to cite a worse guide over mere matters of fact. Had Lévi been left to himself, he would not have got far in occult science because his Gallic vivacity would have been blunted too quickly by the horrors of studious research. But he did somehow fell within a circle of initiation which curtailed the necessity for such research, and put him in the right path. Lévi was scarcely a transcendentalist, not even a mystic. Instinctively a materialist, he approached perilously towards atheism as when he stated that God is a hypothesis which is “very probably necessary.” His prophetic utterances upon the mission of Napoleon III have been stultified by subsequent events. Éliphas Lévi reflected a high idealism and an inner revolt against the injustices of the times. To Madame Blavatsky he was “undoubtedly a great occultist,” but “being a charming and witty writer,” has “more mystified than taught in his many volumes on magic.” Under no circumstances did she look upon him as an Initiate or a practical occultist. His style is poetical and quite charming. But what has he really taught us? Nothing, absolutely nothing — except, perhaps, the exuberance of the French language and his quaint wit. Not one single aspirant has become an Occultist by following the teaching of the French magus simply because, though Lévi evidently got his secrets from an Initiate, he never received the right to initiate others, says Blavatsky.