The Brethren of Mount Atlas. Being the first part of an African Theosophical Story

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THE BRETHREN OF MOUNT ATLAS BEING THE FIRST PART OF AN AFRICAN THEOSOPHICAL STORY BV HUGH E. M. STUTFIELD, F.R.G.S. AUTHOR OF "EL MAGHREB : 1200 MILES' RIDE THROUGH MAROCCO " " A Lady- Witch there lived on Atlas Mountain " Shelley's Witch of Atlas LONDON LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO. AND NEW YORK : 15 EAST 16th STREET 1891 {A II rights reserved) CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGB I. Concerning Divers Occult Matters .... i II. The Story of Ali the Persian 13 III. The City of Marocco 29 IV. Across the Atlas Mountains 42 V. The Robber Attack 54 VI. Through the Sus Valley 63 VII. The Lion Hunt 72 VIII. A Moorish Dinner-party 92 IX. The Fair at Sok el Arba 100 X. The Sheikh Abd el Kreem 111 XI. The Executions 128 XII. Across the Great Desert 141 XIII. The Simoom 156 XIV. Mount Atlas at Last 166 XV. The Oasis and its Inhabitants 181 XVI.

Concerning the Mahatmas 188 XVII. Leila 198 XVIII. Concerning Certain of the Deeper Occult Mysteries 211 XIX. On Sympneumatic Love CONTENTS. CHAPTER . PAGE XX. Of the Cave of the Elementals 232 XXI. I dismiss my Gooroo 237 XXII. The End of Singmya Songo 244 XXIII. We ascend Mount Atlas 249 XXIV. Victory ! 267 XXV. The Avalanche 276 XXVI. Within the Cave of the Elementals . . . 289 XXVII. The Re-union of the Sympneumata ....

Chapter I. Concerning Divers Occult Matters

" Here's a spring, so let's stop and have lunch and count the bag. Twenty-three and a half brace of grouse, nine hares, and a couple of snipe, I make it." The scene was a moor in Inverness-shire, the speaker a fair-haired young man about twenty-five years of age, his audience two fellow grouse-shooters. It was piping hot, and the proposal seemed to find favour with the other two sportsmen, as they promptly threw themselves at full length on the heather and called loudly for drinks. " Gerald walks us off our legs all the morning, but I notice he's always the first to call a halt for lunch," remarked one of them, a man some fifteen years the senior of the first speaker. " Yes ; and I notice you are remarkably prompt in responding to the call," retorted Gerald ; " and you always begin by saying you're not a bit hungry, and then play the best knife and fork of any of us."

The business of unpacking the luncheon-basket and spreading out its contents put an end to further B banter, and conversation flagged until the viands were disposed of and pipes had been filled for a few minutes' quiet smoke. " Do you know," said Gerald, the young man who spoke first, " that, fond as I am of shooting over these hills, I often feel a longing to go further afield for wilder and bigger game. I had a few davs' chamois hunting in Switzerland last year, and I must say that this bird-slaughter has seemed to me rather tame sport ever since." " What a discontented chap you are, to be sure," said the second speaker ; " tired of grousing already before the evening of the Twelfth ! " " On the contrary," returned Gerald, " I'm not tired of it at all. There's nothing I enjoy more ; but that doesn't prevent my wanting to travel a bit.

I've never been out of Europe yet. Will you fellows join me in a trip to South Africa ? I should like to go up into the Kalahari Desert and get some lions. Or stay, let's all go to Cashmere. We should get some first-class shooting, and we might pass over into the unexplored parts of Thibet. The trip would suit Urquhart, as an occultist, down to the ground, as we should be sure to come across some of his friends the Mahatmas (that's the right word, isn't it?), trottino round in their astral bodies, and we might even reach the abode of the Thibetan Brothers themselves. What do you say to it, David ? " The individual addressed as David made no reply, but kept puffing away mechanically at his pipe, with his eyes fixed on the ground, as though absorbed in thought. " Why don't you answer ? " continued the younger man.

" Don't you approve of the idea, or have you something better of your own to suggest ? " "Well, perhaps 1 have, and perhaps I have not," was the enigmatical reply. " I may say that earlier in the year I had some idea of making a long journey this coming winter, but not to Thibet or Cashmere, where, by the way, one can only go in the summer. But I vote that we postpone further discussion of the subject till this evening. It's half-past two already, and time we were on the move again." " Dear me, David, you are very mysterious to-day," said Gerald. " I shall look forward to the adjourned debate on this important topic with much interest. Meanwhile, let's be off. I want to make the bag up to fifty brace this afternoon." So saying, he shouldered his gun, and, his com panions following suit, the trio spread out in a line over the moor, and were soon blazing away merrily.

Never does time pass more quickly than when one is enjoying good sport, and the afternoon wore on until the sun sank in golden glory to the rim of the purple hills which bounded the western landscape. Then as the light failed, and Nature became wrapped in the soft shades of twilight, they turned their foot steps homewards. The hour and the fatigues of the day were not conducive to conversation, and the three sportsmen strode on in silence till they reached the shooting-lodge of Inverfechan, which lay half hidden by a clump of pines in a wooded glen. But it is time the reader was introduced to his new company. In the first place, to begin at the wrong end — by which I mean, in inverse order of importance I, James Browne (don't forget the e, please), stockjobber of Capel Court, and the writer of this history, make my bow to the company, and beg to be excused the delicate task of describing myself.

"Well, but we must at least hear what sort of looking man he is, you know." Then, Madam, if it so please you, to the best of my belief I am not very much to look at. Not that I mean to emulate the excessive modesty of some autobiographical heroes of fiction, and describe myself as a sort of baboon, combining in my own person the ugliness and the muscular power of that anthropoid. But if not exactly a Caliban, neither am I an Adonis. I am slightly above the middle height, not particularly fair nor yet excessively dark. My age — well, I don't think that is quite a fair question, but it is within a decade of forty. My hair used to be black. I am a bachelor. My talents, like my means, are moderate ; my disposition and temper even. My ideas, like my profession, are of the commonplace order. In fact, as the intelligent reader will have already discerned, there runs through me and my surroundings a current of mediocrity, unrelieved either by genius or even by its cheap modern substitute, eccentricity.

Therefore, having said enough to satisfy all legitimate curiosity on the subject of myself, we will pass on to other and more interesting matters. Gerald Somervell, on the contrary, is distinctly a striking figure. Tall, broad-shouldered, athletic-looking, with his fair hair, clear blue eyes and ruddy complexion, his face full of frankness and beaming with good humour, he looks the very beau-ideal of a young Englishman. Not that he is altogether English, either ; and the humour which plays about the corners of his mouth and sparkles in his eyes bespeaks, together with his name, the Irish blood which runs in his veins. He would be decidedly handsome (personally, I think he is) were it not that his features are very strongly marked and somewhat irregular. Rumour has it that the prominence of one organ in particular secured him the appellation of " Nosey " among his schoolfellows.

Like most young Englishmen of our own day, he could hardly be described as intellectual ; but he is richly endowed with that shrewd common sense which in all practical affairs of life is a more valuable quality. Last, but not least, of our trio of grouse-shooters comes Urquhart — David Urquhart — who is in many respects the counterpart of Somervell, yet his dearest friend. Urquhart has just turned forty ; but he looks older, partly owing to a certain gravity — I had almost said austerity — of demeanour, and partly because of the grey threads which here and there streak his thick brown hair. His is distinctly a striking face. Massively formed brows overshadow deep-set grey eyes full of intellectuality. The forehead is broad and moderately lofty. The square jaw and sharply cut lips tell of resolution.

Altogether the whole appearance of the man indicating, as it does, will power and intellectual force, commands the respect and interest of the beholder. Though he has many friends, Urquhart could hardly be called a popular man. He is too reserved for that. Some people call him cynical, but his cynicism is, at any rate, not of the kind which, having an eye only for the bad side of human nature, is wanting in sympathy with human weakness. It is rather that of a lofty nature disappointed at not find ing the world better than it is, and failing in some degree to recognize the fact that average humanity is actuated by lower motives than those with which it had been credited. His friends have always written Urquhart down a confirmed bachelor. If asked why he did not marry, he would always turn the question in some way or another.

It was whispered that he had odd ideas on the subject of matrimony — ideas of a soul-union, in which passion should have no part and love on the physical plane would be non-existent, with some complementary being, or guardian-inspiring angel, destined to form part of his nature. "Somewhere beneath the sun — These quivering heart-strings prove it — Somewhere there must be one Made for this heart to move it." Be that as it may, certain it is that he had never yet succeeded in coming across the person whose being should blend, and whose heart-strings should beat in unison, with his own ; and at the time of which I am now speaking people thought it was likely to be a long while before he found himself " suited." Urquhart had no profession. His means were sufficient to enable him to devote himself to a life of learned leisure, varied by travel and athletic sports.

He was a many-sided man ; a man with numerous and diverse tastes and interests, who made it his business to extract as much interest out of life as possible, and, to do him justice, he succeeded admir ably in his efforts. He was the keenest of sportsmen, a bold rider, and a first-class shot. In his younger days he used to be a fair cricketer, and, like a good Scotchman, he was devoted to golf. Mountaineering was his favourite pastime, however, and his name was well-known in Alpine circles as that of a daring and successful climber. None the less was he essentially a man of books. Student and sportsman, and withal a shrewd, hard-headed man of the world, in him the practical and contemplative faculties were curiously blended. His imaginative temperament gave a metaphysical turn to his studies, for metaphysics, particularly of the Oriental type, were his chief delight.

From metaphysics to mysticism is not a far cry, and during a visit to India he had come in contact with the devotees of the Occult Fraternity of Thibet, and had even been enrolled as a member of the Theo sophical Society. Yet was he no vulgar " spookist " — of the type, I mean, of those who simply hanker after " manifestations " or marvellous phenomena. His occultism was rather the search after abstractions, and the striving to get on a higher plane of spiritual life. Moreover, though he disapproved of " manifestations " as tending to trickery, he had none the less a firm belief in certain forces of nature with which mankind in its present stage of development is un acquainted, and also in the existence of persons possessing a command over those forces. It was only to be expected that Urquhart should have to bear much chaff from unbelieving friends on account of his theosophical proclivities.

Gerald in particular was never tired of rallying him on the subject. " How on earth," he would say, " a sensible chap like David can believe in all that fantastic fiddlesaddle about Mahatmas and astral bodies, and the rest of it, passes my comprehension." Urquhart, however, was not the man to be deterred from his purpose by any amount of chaff, and he con tinued to devote his very considerable energies to the investigation of psychical problems and the hidden laws of Nature. My readers may recollect the genesis and growth of that strange metaphysical medley of Hindoo and Hebrew mysticism, Platonic and Pythagorean trans cendentalism, and modern spiritualism — variously labelled as Theosophy, Occultism, or Esoteric Buddhism — whose apostles in the West claim to have received their inspiration direct from the fountain head, pretty much as Mohammed received his Suras from the angel Gabriel, or as Joe Smith the Mormon was prompted by the angel of the Lord.

The earlier students of Theosophy, like the early Christians, were seekers after a sign, and some strange signs were given them. The wonders worked by Madame Blavatsky were accepted by her faithful followers as a proof of her mission. She did not encourage " manifestations," for, like her Thibetan instructors, she had " an unconquerable aversion to showing off," but none the less did the " manifestations " persist in asserting themselves. Tables and chairs waltzed round the room in aggravating style, luminous balls of fire played about the furniture, cigarette cases came to hand of their own accord, and on one occasion a large spoon which was required for the performance slew out of the opposite wall into Madame's lap. All this and much more — such as occult bells in the air, the astral call of the distant Mahatma, the finding of cups and saucers under trees — are they not written with artless simplicity in the book of the chronicles of Mr. Sinnett ?

An irreverent world, however — the "laughing jackasses," as he aptly styles them, of sceptical criticism — snorted and jeered at these phenomena. Unkind people said the cups and saucers were buried beforehand, and that the " astral call-bell " was in reality concealed in Madame's bustle. Hence subsequent occult publications have dealt more with the philosophical aspect of the subject, leaving aside the question of the miraculous powers of the Brethren till a more favourable opportunity occurs for their vindication. Such an oppor tunity has now arrived, and I trust that this volume will be accepted as a complete, if tardy, proof of the accuracy of Mr. Sinnett and his brothers and sisters in the field of hermetic research. In the days of which I am now writing I was not an occultist myself. For instance, I never used to believe even in the existence of the occult Adepts.

Now, however, that I have myself had two or three tame Mahatmas on hand for a considerable time (a privilege few other men have enjoyed), I know what wonderful people they are, and I can add my testimony to that of the other authors who have written on the subject. It is asserted,1 for example, that the Adept can make himself "visible and invisible at will, fly through the air, walk on water as other people would on dry land, . . . dry up the sea, grasp the sun and moon, hide the earth with the tip of his finger, shake to their foundations earth and heaven." Most people would refuse to credit such statements. I, on the 1 " The Mystery of the Ages," by the Countess of Caithness, p. 55. other hand, know very well that these are only a few of the minor feats of the Adepts, and nothing to what they could do if they really tried.

It will be seen, therefore, by those who persevere to the end of this volume, that circumstances over which I had no control have made of me an occultist of the first water. I have emerged from the slough of ignorance in which the practical work-a-day world is at present immersed. The City man that in the darkness sat of the Eldorado Railway Share Market has seen a great light ; and, illumined by the rays flashed upon me from the Hidden Wisdom, I can afford, along with my brother occultists, to look down with sublime pity on those who yet grovel in purblind ignorance of the higher teaching. True, that with my study of the Great Arcanum I combine the trade of a stock-jobber ; that to my struggle to attain the ideal and the absolute I add the pursuit of the nimble ninepence ; and that my literature is a judicious blend of Esoteric Buddhism and Eldorado Railway traffic returns.

Yet can mundame pursuit never wholly engross a soul once imbued with the infinite mysteries of the unknowable, and the lessons I learned in the course of my intimacy with the Adepts remain with me as a precious heirloom, beside which the things of this phenomenal world are but as dross. At the same time, I must confess that my partici pation in the priceless wisdom distilled from the lips of the initiates is a grave responsibility which weighs heavily upon me. I feel that the world is not yet fitted to share in the dazzling revelations of which I have been the unworthy recipient — revelations which, if published in their entirety, would take the shine out of " The Secret Doctrine " and " Isis Un veiled," and make Mr. Sinnett's disclosures appear the smallest of small potatoes. Some modicum, how ever, ofthe secret knowledge I have, after due delibera tion, decided to make known to the world.

It may be said that I am profaning the mysteries of the Great Arcanum ; that I am casting the precious pearls of esoteric lore to be trampled under the swine-hoofs of Western sceptics. I am, moreover, aware that, as has recently been pointed out,1 to impart to the profane multitude secrets of such vast importance, involving cognizance of occult agencies of tremendous power, is highly dangerous and like giving a child a lighted candle in a powder magazine. I fully accept the responsibility for my action in the matter. Nay, more, I admit that if the world is blown up, or if any other cosmical cataclysm occurs in con sequence of the publication of this book, the fault will be mine. As, however, in that case I shall not be here to be called to account, perhaps that does not matter much. But this much I will say in my own defence, that I was not the first to offend in this matter of letting the occult cat out of the theosophical bag.

Had not Madame Blavatsky, Mr. Sinnett, Mr. Laurence Oliphant, and their various disciples, flooded the world with such scraps of the Hidden Wisdom as they possess — " scraps," I say, compared with the full measure of spiritual enlightenment which has been vouchsafed to me — wild horses could not have torn the dread secret from my bosom. As it is, they were the first to begin, and on their heads be it if evil ensues. 1 " The Secret Doctrine," by Madame Blavatsky. But enough of this for the present. It is time I got on with my story. I have only to add that this book, like many other works of travel, is written to " supply a long-felt want," viz. the want of the narrator to publish his experiences and adventures to the world.

Chapter II. The Story Of Ali The Persian

" Now, David," said Gerald as we were enjoying our pipes in the smoking-room after dinner, " we want to hear what you have got to say on the matter of our expedition to foreign parts. You looked so mysterious this morning when I mentioned it, that I am sure you must have some proposition to make. Out with it now ; we are all ears." " Don't be impatient, my dear boy," replied Urquhart, puffing away in a leisurely manner at his pipe, " and above all beware of jumping too hastily to conclusions. How do you know I have any suggestion to make ? The idea emanated entirely from you. I have no objection to your going to Cashmere, if you like ; only please don't ask me to accompany you." "What, not even for the chance of seeing your friends the Thibetan Brothers ? I am dying to see those remarkable people myself."

" Not even for the chance of seeing my friends the Thibetan Brothers, as you call them, though, as a matter of fact, I never had the privilege of their acquaintance ; and I can assure you that they are not so prodigal of their society as to lavish it on any wandering sportsman who may happen to be in the neighbourhood of their retreats." & ____ " Well, then, I must try and get Browne to come." " Thanks," said I, " I fear my arduous duties in the City would hardly permit of my being away for so long a time. Besides, I fancy the shooting in Cash mere is getting rather played out. So many people go there nowadays." Gerald seemed rather mortified at not meeting with more encouragement in his sporting plans, so, putting his legs up on a chair, he took refuge in silence and an extra stiff glass of whiskey toddy.

" Why don't you organize a shooting party for the wilds of Central Africa ? " I suggested. " It would be a far more novel and interesting trip than Cashmere, and you would come across fifty times more game. Only, if you are so anxious to see the occult brethren, I don't suppose there are any Mahatmas in that part of the world." " How do you know that ? " interposed Urquhart somewhat sharply, laying down his pipe and looking at me. " I don't pretend to know anything about it. I only said I supposed there were none." "Hullo, David! "cried Gerald, observing his friend's unusually animated manner. " What's up now ? I'm sure you've got some deep game on with your mysterious airs and reticence." But Urquhart had returned to his impassive de meanour and his pipe, at which he kept puffing away in a deliberate fashion which somewhat irritated Gerald, whose curiosity was aroused by the air of mystery which Urquhart, partly to tease him, had assumed.

" I am not at all averse to going to Central Africa," said Gerald, " only it would be a much bigger affair than the trip to Cashmere, and would want a lot more time and money. Besides, if neither of you fellows will go with me, it's no use thinking any more about it, as I wouldn't dream of starting on an expedition of that sort with men I did not know thoroughly well." " I never said that I wouldn't go to Africa," rejoined Urquhart ; " I am not aware that you ever asked me to accompany you there. Look here," he continued after a pause, " now that we are on the subject of African travel, and as our friend Gerald seems so curious about it, I don't mind unburdening my mind to you of a project which has long been in my thoughts, and, if either or both you will assist me in carrying it out, I shall be very well pleased.

" Last winter, as you know, I was travelling with three friends in the interior of Marocco. We did not get as far up country as I had hoped, and I was disappointed in my main desire to penetrate into the heart of the Atlas mountains. Still we had an excellent time, had lots of pig-sticking, shot innumer able snipe and partridges and bustards, and saw many strange things. But to me neither the sport nor the sight-seeing, much as I enjoyed both, compared in point of interest with a certain discovery which I accidentally made. I say ' discovery ' because, although I have not yet had an opportunity of verifying the information I received, I am satisfied in my own mind of its substantial accuracy, and am prepared to act on it without further inquiry. The thing came about in this way. "After wandering about for several months, our party had settled down for a few days in the city of Marocco, which, as you know, is the southern capital of the Moorish empire.

Desirous of seeing all the sights of the place, even the most unpleasant, we were making the round of the city prisons. Those dark and horrible dens, reeking with every sort of abomimation, were crowded with miserable beings in every stage of disease and emaciation. In one I remember seeing a raving lunatic chained by the neck with a steel collar to a pillar in the midst of his fellow-prisoners. His struggles to get free were something awful to witness, and the place resounded with his shrieks. Beside him, in the filth which lay thick upon the floor, lay an unhappy wretch, with a cannon-ball tied to his ankles, and heavy manacles on both hands. As with difficulty, owing to the stench, we put our heads through the aperture where the prisoners receive their scanty pittance of bread, the whole crowd rose and begged for food and succour, but beyond thrusting in a few loaves, which were greedily devoured, we could do nothing.

" Filled with horror at the sight of such cruel suffering, I cast about me to see if I could not do something towards securing the liberty of some of the prisoners. An opportunity was not long in pre senting itself. The cases which appeared to me the saddest were those of certain unhappy debtors, who were the victims of that abominable system of foreign protection, which eats like a canker into the heart ■1 of the Moorish political system. I had heard much of the iniquities perpetrated by Jews and Moors, especially the former, who, having secured 'patents' of foreign nationality, used them for the purpose of extorting money out of the natives, and now I saw with my own eyes the victims of their machinations. From trustworthy sources of information I learned that some of the dungeons were filled with people against whom claims for imaginary debts had been preferred.

Unwilling or unable to pay, powerless to obtain redress against men who sheltered themselves beneath the ægis of a foreign flag, they had been clapped in the debtors' prisons. It was in one of these prisons that I happened to come across the man to whom I owe the discovery of which I spoke just now. " Having bought a good supply of bread, I had taken it to one of the foulest and most crowded of the dungeons. As the first loaf was pushed through the aperture, the mob of prisoners came crowding round, jabbering and gesticulating like lunatics, and fighting for their share of the food. Behind this mass of squalid and despairing humanity, but taking no part in the struggle for the bread, I noticed one prisoner of a type superior to the rest. He was a man entering upon the evening of life, with a long iron-grey beard, and there was a look of despair and suffering, both physical and mental, on his face, which was pitiful to behold.

His features were distinctly Oriental, but cast in a more refined and intellectual mould than those of the barbarous natives of Marocco. When I first observed him he was squatting on the floor ; but presently he rose slowly and painfully to C his feet, and I could see that there were fetters round both his legs which, from their size and weight, were eating into the flesh. Struck with the appearance of the man, and full of pity for his miserable plight, I endeavoured to induce him to come and speak to me. The gaoler, seeing what I wanted, and hoping to get backsheesh out of the Nazarene, laid lustily about him with his cowhide whip, and the famished crew of prisoners soon fell back, jabbering and howling, from the opening, leaving a passage clear for the man I wanted. With a pitiable air of weariness and dejec tion, and hanging his head in shamefaced fashion, he dragged himself to the aperture.

He seemed un willing to speak at first, but at length, convinced that he was dealing with a friend, and that his words would not be used against him, he proceeded to unfold a tale of cruelty and wrong which, unfortunately, is only an instance of what is going on every day throughout that beautiful but most un happy country. " He said that his name was Ali Abd el Ressool — Ali the Slave of the Prophet, or, more correctly, the Apostle. He was a Persian by birth, but had resided for the last ten years in Marocco. During the greater part of that time he had been engaged in trade as a wool and hide merchant in one of the coast towns, and had managed in that way to amass a tolerable competence. Having the misfortune to become embroiled in a quarrel with a rich Jew who enjoyed American ' protection,' the latter cast about him for the means of obtaining his revenge.