“When from the shores
And forest-nestling mountains came a voice
That, solemn sounding, bids the world prepare!”
The sphinx, one of the first symbols known to man, demands that we solve its riddle—which is Life, not Death. The Egyptian sphinxes with their human heads face the West. The mastodon-headed sphinxes of Mexico face the East. Will future research unearth the evidence necessary to locate the sunken Atlantis lying between these two avenues of sphinxes, and thus reveal the origin of man? Did the primitive races evolve similar civilization separately, or were they all from one source? Perhaps the answer to this, is the solution of the enigma.
Akaza, meaning “God within thee” was the hierophant, prophet and high-priest of the Brotherhood of the White Star, which had its origin in Atlantis. His was an equilibrated, evenly balanced mind and nature. As an initiate he knew all that transpired on the subjective as well as on the positive planes of consciousness. He was always a disturbing element on the shallow, false and artificial side of life. He cared nothing for consequences. A natural wanderer on the face of the earth, Akaza was in his element when it came time for him to lead Yermah’s band away from the doomed island.
Akaza was waiting for Yermah this Monday morning, or Moon’s day. He stood at the entrance of a cave extending well back under Sutro Heights. It was called Ingharep at that time, and marked the orbit of Uranus—from the center of Tlamco—the planet which was correlated to Akaza’s life.
In the time of our story the water’s edge did not extend inside Seal Rocks. A careful inspection at low tide to-day will lead to the discovery of the cave still tunneled back under the Cliff House foundation.
The Indians never fail to locate a cavern. Where one is suspected, they wait until after sunset on a windy day. Then they lie down over the supposed cave, and with an ear pressed close to the ground, listen attentively for the roar, such as is heard in a sea-shell. If once this roar is heard, they refuse to search further, experience teaching them that they have found the right spot. Such was the method employed in discovering Ingharep.
Akaza, the hierophant, was an interesting part of the picture as he stood at the mouth of this cavern. The white robe which he wore was made of paca wool, stiff and lustrous as silk, but thick and warm. It was embroidered with five-pointed and six-pointed silver stars, having diamonds in the center. On his thumb was a silver signet-ring. He wore bracelets of the same metal. At his waist was a sash of yellow silk, with double-key pattern outlined in silver. Over his shoulders was a purple cloth mantle, trimmed with a coarse blue tracery in lace pattern.
The mouth of the cave faced due west, thus enabling Akaza to see the last glimmerings of daylight go out as the sun dropped, apparently, into the ocean or was swallowed up in the vaporous clouds or fog-banks each day. For many months Akaza had watched this process, and, since his return from the Yo-Semite, he had busied himself incessantly with astronomical calculations.
“Pause here a moment,” he said to Yermah, after a hearty greeting. “One of the grandest symbols in nature stretches out before thee. Primordial substance is always represented by water flowing out of naught, or nothing.”
He pointed toward the wide Pacific and looked at Yermah with a rapt expression. “As it flows, it gradually solidifies into mind, just as the earth was molten and then became solid.”
Yermah stood inhaling the stiffening sea-breeze, and watching the waves cresting shoreward in ceaseless motion.
“These waves scudding before the wind are exactly like our thoughts driven to a given point by force of will. It is to give further instruction on this matter of a fully controlled will that I have asked thee to give me attention to-day,” continued the old man, as he led the way into the cavern.
There were swinging lamps, and a wide, open fireplace, so constructed that the smoke was emitted through a pointed-arch opening. With the charcoal fire and the swinging lamps, the interior was made quite comfortable. The stalactites, white and frosted, or discolored here and there from natural causes, made the walls and ceilings beautiful. Where an opening suggested partition, blankets, rugs and tapestries had been hung, and over the sanded floor were rush and grass mats in profusion.
Around to the north, where the rocks still stand, the seals barked and roared as they do now, while the same species of birds came and went.
An ingeniously arranged partial closing of heavy boards screened the occupants from the wind, but did not exclude the sunlight and fresh air.
“This eight-spoked wheel represents the life of an initiate,” said Akaza.
A round inlaid ivory wheel, supported by a porcelain tripod, was indicated. On its outer edge were the signs of the zodiac, chased in black, with a mother-of-pearl inlaying to indicate the spokes. A rough-edged parchment lay in the center, and Yermah’s quick eye saw that it was an orrery question, pertaining to Atlantis, drawn in colors.
“We are not to examine the horoscope at present,” explained Akaza, following Yermah’s gaze. “I brought thee in here to make sure of fire and the needs of the inner man. Now that they are secure, we shall devote the morning to the beach.”
He occupied himself for a few moments with the baskets of food, done up with paper napery, ready for the ever-present chafing-dish and samovar. He banked the fire so that it would smolder without dying out, and then the two men went slowly toward the beach where old ocean came in uproariously, and sullenly ground its white teeth on the sands.
Yermah considerately took the ocean side, so as to protect Akaza as much as possible from the cool wind. He drew a thin, bony hand up under his cloak and clasped it close to his side with the upper arm.
They were an interesting study—these two men. One the perfect embodiment of physical health and strength; the other, feeble in body, but a veritable giant of spiritual force.
The one man stood absolutely apart from temporal things; the other was just beginning to live on the sensuous, or material plane. As they walked they left odd-looking wet tracks behind them.
“Thou knowest already,” said Akaza, “that thou hast successfully performed seven of the great labors in the self-development of Osiris. Now thou standest face to face with that which hinders; and it is necessary that I should explain to thee the purport of this eighth labor.”
“Is there something about it which I do not understand?” asked Yermah, in a surprised tone. “I have but to find the treasure hidden in the rocks, and then I am ready to return home. I have learned to fashion the gold which is to tip the spires of my temple, and when this is done I shall demand release from my vow. As soon as the Brotherhood receives me, I am free.” Then, with a slight hesitation in manner and speech—“I have already decided what I shall do with my freedom.”
While he was speaking, Akaza moved and breathed like a person in pain.
“What I must explain to thee is the duality of thine own nature,” he went on, turning sadly toward Yermah, “the dual aspect of the labor thou hast already performed, and what thou must do in the future. First, then, Osiris is thyself—the I-am-I principle within thee, which is the same first, last, and all the time. Thy labor is the finding of the Perfect Way. Love is the consummation, and Wisdom is the way.”
“What wouldst thou have me do?” asked Yermah, eagerly.
“First, I would have thee realize the transitory nature of life, and its desires, not on the intellectual plane, but as a fact in nature. The body, scientifically considered, is not the same through the whole life. Neither does the mind remain the same. Man’s ability to look at his own desires and feelings impersonally is the beginning of Wisdom. No man can extricate himself from the result of his own deeds.”
“Give me to know this mystery.”
“To bind the sweet influence of the Pleiades is the opposite of loosing the belt of Orion,” answered Akaza.
“It has not been granted me to know the significance of either,” responded Yermah, humbly.
“Alcyone, the central sun around which the spiral galaxy of the firmament encompassed in the Milky Way, and all the stars, suns and planets included in that circle, are revolving in the only one of the seven sisters whose love is mortal. From out that center issues evermore a ray of the divine creative spirit, coalescing into the life of animate nature here.
“The adept gathers the component parts of that incomprehensible being—man—to his divine center,” Akaza continued. “He wills them into the being of another, and that other becomes the mother of a son, given from the depths of space. Such a son art thou, Yermah.”
“And thou art in very truth my father?” asked Yermah, wonderingly.
“Yes. For this cause am I in the flesh, and for this, also, must I remain in the body, until thou art restored to the Brotherhood. I am the hierophant, the second in power in our order. So it was granted to me to create an entity which should rule the future as Atlantis rules the present.”
“Tell me all of my beginning. How and why this should be. Thou wert an old man when I was born; and thou art a vowed celibate?”
“Swear by Him who made us that thou wilt not reveal what I am about to unfold.”
He held up a six-pointed diamond star which blazed on his bosom for the Dorado to kiss, as they stood facing each other. As Yermah’s lips touched the center, he turned to the east, and, with both hands clasped over his head, said solemnly:
“I swear.”
“A priest of our order, under the same tutelage as Orondo, was thy literal father, while thy mother was a vestal selected from the Temple of Venus. Thy great-grandfather, grandfather and father were of the priesthood, and their wives were selected vestals. To the prophet, hierophant and high-priest was the divine self confided, and we were pledged to produce a ruler for this generation. We willed the conditions which gave thee birth and I must share thy joys and sorrows until such time as the Brotherhood releases me.”
“Then I am not of royal lineage—am not the son of Poseidon, Servitor of Atlantis?” There was pain and disappointment in Yermah’s voice.
“Thou art royal in the highest and best sense. Thou art immaculately conceived, as is the sun by the cosmic virgin, when he has been standing still in Capricornus. It is said everywhere that a dewdrop fell on thy virgin mother’s bosom, as she lay asleep in a sacred grove. Such was thy beginning.”
“Then he to whom I have rendered obedience is not in any sense my father?”
“No. Thou art a veritable sun-god, destined to be thrice born in this life.”
“Oh! Akaza, why speakest thou in riddles? Thrice born, indeed! How is it possible without death and rebirth?”
Akaza smiled at his impatience.
“I charged thee in the beginning to remember that there is a dual meaning to all labors that a candidate for the initiation must perform. Thou hast already had two births in this body, and art facing the third.”
Yermah could not conceal his astonishment.
“The first birth was at twelve years and six months, when the sex principle began to assert itself. This acme of sensuous existence culminates at twenty-five years, when intellect has its birth and the mind becomes capable of reasoning. Before that time sensation and instinct have served for individual thought. The new rate of vibration set in motion at the birth of desire is the beginning of discord in the personality. Many times before intellect can assert itself the impetus for a plunge to the downward spiral is overwhelmingly strong.”
“What, then, befalls the divine self?”
“On the material plane it is the brutalizing process which prevents the divine self from contacting the physical. When this happens the man has really lost his soul. Saturn is the planet correlated to the finding of the Perfect Way. It is the mill of the gods, which grinds out the imperfections of human nature. The three phases of immaculate conception are closely allied to the three re-births which take place in the physical man.”
“Eagerness to master this hidden knowledge proves the quality of fellowship,” said Yermah, anxious that Akaza should go fully into details.
“The twelve markings of the zodiac contain the arcane wisdom of our order.”
Before Yermah could frame a suitable answer to fit in the pause, Akaza continued:
“The Ineffable One is a trinity of Necessity, Freedom and Love. An ideal is the result of necessity, and all our ideal conceptions are the outcome of our absolute need. It is in the achievement of freedom that the divine within us labors, and on this is based love. Life is the great vineyard of the father, and all his children must toil in it until the end. When in the process of regeneration man is so far perfected as to see the mysterious beauty of his being, he knows that the trials and labors imposed upon him by the laws of cause and effect are at once a necessity and a blessing, and he will no longer seek to escape them.
“There is constant warfare between Desire and Intelligence,” the hierophant continued. “Why must thou struggle to overcome? Because the only difference between an imbecile and a genius is the ability of the spirit or divine self to function on the physical plane of the genius and its utter inability to influence the fool. Thine own conduct in this life determines which of these extremes thou wilt become in the next. Atavism and heredity intensify these tendencies; so does the influence of the planets. But neither the one nor the other can produce them. Thou must do this by the exercise of will power. The union of desire and mind forms the personality. Each attribute is triple—active, passive and equilibrated.”
After a slight pause, Akaza went on:
“Thou must wield each triad into a unity. This is real initiation—the consummation of perfect harmony. Thou hast long since gone beyond the reach of impure thoughts emanating from the five sub-human orders of creation. When impure characteristics are removed the first labor is performed. Thy studies and all knowledge received is the second labor, because it prepared thee for esoteric science.
“The power of thought,” continued Akaza, “if rightly used, enables a man to transcend creation. Misused, it will cause him to retrograde into the condition where self is the great object of existence, and the appetites of the body are the only deities to whom he sacrifices. For such beings the uprisings of knowledge (the wiles of Circe) glitter with fascinating light, because further knowledge will enable them to minister to their desires. This, my son, is a dangerous situation for an immortal soul. What was intended as a blessing becomes a curse.”
“Have I transgressed in this respect?”
“No. Thou art safe on that point.”
Knowledge is Circe in Greek—Serket in Egyptian. It is the enchantress, whose realm may be enjoyed by those who know the herb “Moly.” This word comes from the same root as the Latin Molo, and the Swedish Mjoll, to grind, indicating the process of grinding out human passions. It gives the Norse Mjolner, the hammer of Thor, or Will.
The same meaning is implied in the weapon used by Kanza in killing the infants of Desire.
“The abuse of this quality is what brings trouble to our countrymen,” said Akaza. “Atlantis is a hotbed of black magic; that is, inverted wisdom. And they must suffer for it. Setos and Rahula are the only devotees of this school we have with us.”
“Why didst thou bring them?”
“It was necessary—for thy sake—my beloved. In the performance of the third labor the first hour of the day begins; the two preceding labors being only the dawn of partial wisdom. As knowledge is the fruition of Will—the principle of the second hour of dawn—so Love is the purpose of the Divine Creator. This purpose must subdue its antithesis—the lust for material power and gain.”
“If the material body is not kept in a healthy condition, the spirit and the soul cannot be perfected,” continued Akaza.
“This is not a fault of mine,” returned Yermah, with a touch of pride.
“Thou hast guarded the temple well. The sun never shone on a more perfect physical type. The fifth labor,” the hierophant went on, “is equilibrated Will—the caduceus which our order carries and uses as a wand. It is a spear in the hands of an adept, who compels all secrets and who knows all things. It can be developed only by temperance and moderation. It is an unlimited power for good or evil which thou holdest in thy possession. In thy body it is the solar plexus or brain of the stomach. The twelve plexi around it are the full gamut of physical and spiritual desire. Here thou couldst use thy knowledge with great harm to thy fellows, and more to thyself.”
“But why should I?”
“For no reason, unless it be to gratify some wish lying near thy heart. We neither act nor speak, much less decide a question concerning ourselves, except we have a motive.”
“My motive is simple enough. Thou hast told me that love is the first triad. I love with all my heart.”
“No need of words to assure me of this. I have foreseen it from the first.”
“And thou hast not opposed me? Then thou wilt favor it?” The Dorado was as impulsive as a boy.
“I will not oppose it. The great secret of initiation lies in the magnetic warmth of love. It is a threefold principle, the lowest phase of which is sex love. This is the poetry of sensation. It pertains to the material nature, and is therefore impermanent.”
“Oh, Akaza! How canst thou say that my love for Kerœcia will pass away. I feel that it never can.”
“In the sense of feeling, it certainly will not endure. But this phase of love has three parts. We reach divinity on its upper plane, because it becomes transmuted from animal desire to a soul influx. This will come as a benediction to sweeten the very fountain-head of thy individuality.”
“Then I was right in claiming mine own. I have not broken my vow, even in thought,” responded Yermah hopefully.
“But thou wilt. In so much as thou wilt imperil immortality thou must suffer. Be of good cheer. Whatever pain may come will soon pass. Nothing of the real love and union between thee will ever cease to be.”
“The seventh labor,” Akaza continued, after a thoughtful pause, “is the slaying of the vampire of procrastination—the temptation to halt in the path of duty. Thou wilt naturally think thy work completed when thou art allowed to return to Atlantis.”
“Why not?”
“Thou wilt not return to Poseidon’s kingdom for many days. Atlantis is doomed.”
“Akaza, what art thou saying?” In his excitement Yermah shook the hierophant’s arm vigorously.
“Thou art forbidden to give to others what thou hast learned. The world needs thee more than thou canst imagine. Thou art now facing the eighth labor of initiation.”
“I know this. But is it not true that I shall tip the spires of the temple building? Must I not do this with mine own hands?”
“Thou must subjugate all internal and external hindrances first.”
“What is that, if not what I have already mentioned? Was it not so from the beginning? In each colony visited have I not obeyed the laws? This year finishes my sojourn away from Atlantis. Thou wilt remember that I am to have my wish when the last labor has been completed.”
“So thou shalt.”
“Then I shall have Kerœcia for my wife, and live in peace.”
“Thou wilt neither espouse Kerœcia nor live in peace. Marriage to thee is forbidden. Only the commonplace mortal is content to vegetate, procreate and perish.” Then after a pause, he added: “Thine is not only race condition, Yermah, but before thou wert born, the Brotherhood decreed it for thee.”
“Thou—thou durst tell this to me, the future Servitor of Atlantis and all her dependencies! Out upon thee and thy Brotherhood! I will not submit to thy decrees! Thou—thou hast made me believe in thy love. Is this the language of consideration? The Brotherhood demands all that I value in life! Thou sayest that I have not failed so far. Be assured that I shall succeed finally.”
“Thou hast already developed the feminine principle within thee and hast assumed the flowing locks and robe, so that thy fellows may know thou art fit to lead them. My personal tutorship goes no farther. Thy future is distinctly in thine own hands, Yermah.” Akaza gave a soft reply, and his rash hot-headed companion was mollified.
“Give thy tongue full license, Akaza. What does the Brotherhood require of its fellows?” Yermah was still the master of Tlamco. His tone and manner betrayed it.
“Absolute freedom must be achieved before the candidate can enter the Gates of Light.” Akaza was quiet, but firm.
“Freedom from what?”
“From the enslavement of Desire. Man’s perverted love nature is the great stumbling block.”
Yermah’s face was aflame in an instant. He was furiously angry. He turned toward Akaza with a threatening gesture, while his resentment was at flood tide. Then his arm fell aimlessly to his side. He realized that it was shocking to quarrel with his preceptor—his spiritual father—the man who had unselfishly followed him from one colony to another for the past seven years.
The Dorado held his tongue, but with an impetuous fling of the cloak over his shoulder, he abruptly left the hierophant.
They were on the beach opposite the present lifesaving station, and were coming back to the cave. With swift, swinging strides Yermah turned toward Tlamco, and was soon headed for the western gate of its walled enclosure.
“I am not to make my love self-identifying,” he muttered savagely. “Am I, then, to love my ideal without desire for possession? He asks what I can not do. I should be no part of a man if I could submit like this! No! A thousand times—no!—I have tasted the wine of life on her sweet lips!—She shall claim a king’s ransom in return!—And this, he says, will imperil my soul!—So be it!—This is what love means to me!”
There was that in Yermah which would brook no interference. Docility and obedience, both his habit and inclination, were routed completely by the whirlwind of resentment having control of him. Self made a strong rally, and, for a time, he was intoxicated with the idea of defying Akaza. He gloried in his ability to think and to act for himself. It was his happiness, his love, and in the future he would do as he pleased. This was instinct deeper than reason; not conscious lust nor sensuality—for he mentally idealized Kerœcia.
This quality was the same which arouses an animal similarly thwarted to the highest pitch of ferocity. Passion, heretofore a latent force strengthening and sweetening his whole nature, now suddenly flared into tempestuous activity on its own account. Opposition at this juncture would have rendered Yermah capable of murder.
The line of demarcation between the virgin mind and partial realization was forever obliterated. Yermah knew desire. And its demands were all the more urgent because of long-delayed expression.