O previous Life, far from this formidable black tableau of eternal cosmic Night in which the supreme Formula, beyond the reach of our original weaknesses, is set out in stellar hieroglyphs…
O simple animal reality of the maternal Earth: dawn over woods glittering with dew, larks singing in the morning sky, rose-bushes flowering in the spring sunlight, the serenity of a sunset over the sea…
And that desire to cross space draws us back, through the exterior Night streaked with the fulminant flock of universes in flight—masses of stars—nebulas…the lenticular Milky Way opens up, receives us among its stars, which regroup into familiar constellations…Sun! O Aldebaran and Capella, growing Star…
Divine Sun of terrestrial humankind, and your cortège of planets…here’s Jupiter…Mars…here’s the Earth, a blue diamond juxtaposed with a white satellite…
But what sovereign influence, against which the will of our couplet stiffens in vain—what irresistible attraction—which must resemble what a steel needle experiences in a magnetic field—is drawing us past the Earth—is carrying us, precipitating us towards that white planet: Venus, enormous, filling the entire nadir with its disk padded with dazzling clouds?
III. The Master Initiate of Venus
“Spirit of Earth, are you there?”
I perceive these words by hearing them spoken in an unknown language, whose sounds gradually translate themselves within my brain—for I have a brain, at present: a brain to which an elaborate network of nerves brings me the sensations of a beating heart, legs and arms, material and weighty. My attention loses itself therein; an overwhelming confusion replaces the beautiful intellectual lucidity of before. I am horribly ill-at-ease in this body, which is not mine, and in which an unfamiliar force retains me—like an external compression, without which I would escape violently. Oh, I am sad, weeping in this body. I am in distress here, alone…alone? Ah! Separated from my beloved! Why? What has happened…?
And I remember our fall towards Venus, through cloudy opacity, and then that heart-rending agony, that tearing apart of our couple, leaving my beloved outside this body, where an all-powerful will has reincarnated me.
I sigh profoundly and raise my leaden eyelids.
A peach-pink daylight, entering through oval windows, reveals three people standing in front of me, dressed in white togas of a fine aristocratic type, with faces like marble, who might as easily have been 40 or 80 years old—and I know that the one who has me in his power is the Master Initiate of Venus.
“Spirit of Earth,” he repeats, “are you there?”
“I’m here,” I say, finally. Timidly, I add: “Master, what has become of my beloved?”
“Don’t worry, child,” replies the voice, charge with an ideal tenderness, “She is by your side. I have separated your two fluidic bodies in order to incarnate yours in the organism that will serve as your medium. She will be returned to you when our conversation has concluded and I have informed you of your highest duty…
“For a long time, my brother initiates and I have known that strange and calamitous events were happening in the superior stars, but only a Terrestrial or Martian spirit detached from the fluidic tumult of its fellows—where it would be deaf to our appeals—can give us a detailed account. We watched out for the flight through space of a disincarnate soul. You and your companion are the first that a sublime curiosity has caused to flee the terrestrial atmosphere, the first who came within our mental range…
“Tell us what you know.”
And I told the story:
“All the people of Earth were living in peace, the animal passions vanquished, the reign of intelligence affirmed every day by a marvelously accelerated scientific progress. We had learned to communicate with our planetary brothers on Jupiter and Mars—but while the former generously exchanged their wisdom with us, the latter appropriated our most powerful secret in order to use them against us. With an end in mind that we did not grasp at first, they wanted to invade our planet.
“As cowardly as they were perfidious, the Martians resolved to obliterate any trace of resistance in advance. Their machines, propelled by an unknown force, rained down upon the Earth, pouring out a red death of fire and corrosive asphyxia. Our capital cities were destroyed one after another; the animal instincts, liberated and exalted by the panic and the social disorganization, added the madness of blind fratricidal warfare to the horrors of famine and plague, then to the calamities of earthquakes and volcanic eruptions provoked by the last Martian shells.
“After the criminal planet’s orbit had carried it far enough away from us to oblige it to cease its bombardment, most of these scourges continued to increase of their own accord, eventually demoralizing humankind and reducing its numbers so completely that, during the following opposition, the invaders would have been able to disembark on our world without fear of serious resistance.
“In the meantime, the Sages of Jupiter, noble champions of the law of love and sidereal fraternity, had resolved to punish the felon planet and to render it incapable of harming the unfortunate Terrans as soon as the proximity of the two celestial bodies—Jupiter and Mars—rendered the operation viable. For two terrestrial years, the entire population of the immense planet put all the resources of its science and industry to work in order to charge Solar Accumulators, in which the calorific energy of the Central Star were finally condensed with an unprecedented potential.
“When the propitious moment arrived, this energy, reconstituted by a projector, became a monstrous Thunderbolt, which we saw launched into space at the speed of light, reaching the criminal planet 30 minutes thereafter—where the ravages of the Fire were pitilessly prolonged for a full week, until the surface of the planet was completely incinerated.
“By a fatal coincidence, however, the opposition that had brought Mars into the vicinity of Jupiter similarly brought the Earth within range of Mars, and at the last moment—when the avenging Thunderbolt was already extending its dart through space—a final projectile was launched from Mars!
“One sole projectile, whose occupants had, well before their arrival on Earth become the last survivors of the Martian race; one unique projectile, instead of hundreds, or perhaps millions, that would have contained their mass emigration…
“You know, O Master, that the savage religion of the Martians sees the Sun as the ultimate end of their transmigrations. According to their Magi, it is on Saturn that their souls are born and incarnated for the first time. Following one or several existences, according to the merits of each one—whatever might qualify as merit in respect of these bandits—metempsychosis takes them to Jupiter, or the little satellites that are its prisons, and from there to Mars. Such is the origin that they attribute to themselves. Their next abode is therefore situated on the Earth, where their souls, guided by his invincible faith, render themselves after death.
“Until now, the population of Mars being much inferior in number to that of the Earth, these Martian souls were able to reincarnate freely among the new-born, and only formed a violent and bellicose minority of criminals and warriors among humankind—but since the End-of-the-World that the Jovian Thunderbolt has inflicted on their planet, millions of Martian souls have come to descend upon the Earth, hopeful of reincarnation in the corporeal avatars through which they must pass in pursuit of their exodus towards the Sun, by way of intermediate stages on Venus and Mercury. Are there even 100,000 humans on Earth at present? Perhaps not. Every human is thus coveted and besieged by a swarm of Martian souls, which aspire to take possession of him…”
The Master Initiate interrupted me: “But, child, a disincarnate soul cannot take possession of an adult organism and expel the spirit that has developed therein, except in very exceptional circumstances. Without the direct intervention of Magi…”
“That, O Master, is exactly what the last projectile has brought to the Earth. By means of a perfume with occult virtues, with which they are charging the atmosphere, they are drawing defenseless humans to
the vile Keep in which their incantations perpetrate the odious theft. My beloved and I only needed to go to sleep for a moment under the influence of the Perfume to see ourselves irrevocably expelled from our bodies. It is a Martian leader, I think, and his companion who have taken possession of our terrestrial bodies.”
The Master Initiate turned to his two colleagues. “Here, brother, is an exact account of what we have glimpsed confusedly in the magic crystal. The danger that the protective Powers reveled to us a long time ago is very near; it threatens us; it will descend upon our dear and gentle world: the Titans intent on the conquest of the Sun!
“Having escaped the judicial Thunderbolt, will not the Magi overturn the assigned order by means of their sacrilegious maneuvers, despoiling the Earth’s survivors for the profit of the Martian rabble?
“O God! Divine Apollo! You inspire me to clairvoyant enthusiasm! The future opens before my eyes—an abyss of horror! I see the monstrous activity in all the factories of Earth, to which the Martians will hasten furiously! They are afraid of the supreme punishment—for Jupiter is ready to annihilate them, this time irremediably. Flee! They want to flee that globe before coming back within range of the Avenger!
“Drunk with the immeasurable power of their accursed science—by the vertiginous acceleration of their progress—their sacrilegious folly will surpass the eternal Laws; they will destroy the Earthly stage and disembark on Venus in their present bodies! See them, O Brothers! The bolides fabricated by them on Earth: ten—100—1000—a flamboyant hail of bolides raining down upon our peaceful abode and ejecting these exterminators, intoxicated by destruction, into the midst of our people, ignorant of all arts save those of Beauty!”
The Great Initiate tottered, prey to prophetic emotion; the other two Pontiffs respectfully assisted him to sit down on the ivory throne set behind him, and then knelt down beside him.
He kept his eyes closed for a few moments, as pale as candle-wax, rigid and hieratic. Eventually, opening his eyes again, he resumed in a steadier tone; “Tell me, child, what was your intention in returning to the ground fouled by the invaders?”
“I don’t know…perhaps to make another attempt to recover my body, and that of my beloved.”
“You would have failed again. I alone can give you the indispensable secret. I shall not exact any oath from you. Your probity, and that of your companion, has been obvious to me since the instant when my will-power deflected your couple’s flight towards the planet of love. You are the Children of Light, I know that. You will be our allies against the Children of Darkness. There is a dogma with which the religions of your celestial fatherland are familiar, with varying degrees of obscurity: that of protective geniuses. The sage Socrates had his daimon. In truth, I inhabit a world younger than yours, but I am your elder in the cycle of existences, and I want to be your guide, your inspiration. Distance is only a word for souls, when sympathy unites them…a mental link is established between us now; henceforth, I shall follow all your footsteps on the Earth, to which you will return. You will recognize my voice in your thoughts, and I shall guide you through the hazardous combat that you will undertake.
“The first necessity is to comfort your human brothers and to preserve the greatest possible number from the influence of the Magi. Go among them in your astral form and visit their spirits, to which you will give courage. After that, when you judge it necessary, recover your natural body…you will do it like this…”
The peach-pink daylight in the windows was fading away and the room was dark. I experienced a sort of nausea, like the prelude to a fainting fit; I felt my self expelled from my borrowed body, and I immediately recovered the clairvoyance appropriate to astral sensibility. A phantasmal blue radiance revealed a new daylight that surrounded me.
I saw Raymonde straight away, a beloved face of nebulous sapphire; I greeted her with all my heart, but was unable to reunite our couple. The influence of a superior will kept us separate, and I perceived that it emanated from the Master Initiate. He approached us, followed by the two Pontiffs, but his astral radiance, which formed an aura extending as far as the hem of his robe, was much more powerful. Even though his lips did not move, his thoughts reached me directly, as if they were born within me.
He pointed to the recumbent body that I had just quit, where the spirit of the medium was completing the re-condensation of its pale pink fluorescence, and he said: “Look into that brain carefully. See that palpitating red granule, as large as a pea, lodged between the two hemispheres. That is the center of application of psychic force, the vital node, the junction-point between spirit and matter.” The pineal gland, the seat of the soul, according to Descartes, my own mind added. “While it is red and turgid, replete with consciousness, the liaison between body and soul is firm and assured. But watch carefully. When you see it pale and wither under the influence of sleep or prolonged distraction, seize the moment! Exert the force of your will abruptly and directly upon that minuscule point, exalt your consciousness therein…you will regain mastery of your body, and I shall help you to keep it, all the more easily because the Magi will have ceased their operations, and your antagonist will not have the assistance of the Perfume…
“Spirit of Earth, I have spoken.
“Remember that the future of Venus, as well as the fate of the humans worthy of that name still living on Earth, depends on you…perhaps on you alone! Remember that your devotion to the sacred cause of Light might break the fatal thread spun by the Martians. Remember that my brothers and I are watching over you and your companion now, and that we are following our every action. Courage, my child! Be strong, and do not hesitate; the time has come to choose between your terrestrial happiness and your sidereal duty!
“And now, go!”
The power that kept me separate from my beloved let go; instantaneously, our fluid couple reformed, of its own accord, in a vertiginous rush of joy and hope. In the peach-pink daylight, we glimpsed the Elysium of the gentle planet, the happy Venusians crowned with flowers, frolicking in the azure flower-beds beside limpid streams, their naked bodies reminiscent of Classical sculptures, in a perpetual festival of poetry, music and love…then the clouds…then, protruding from their cottony white bed, the summit of a mountain, the cupola of an observatory…and the flight through the starry night of the intersidereal void, towards the bright blue diamond of Earth.
IV. The Business Premises of Mars & Co.
Regretfully, we are leaving the planet of love to fly to the Earth, to which duty calls us—and our hesitation translates itself as the relative slowness of our progress through space. As soon as the enlarged natal globe offers us the familiar contours of the Old World, though—Europe, Africa and Asia, almost entirely plunged in night—our will becomes firmer and our intention more precise. The most important thing, before anything else, is to reconnoiter the Martian colony, to see how it is progressing—so we steer along the long green serpentine formation of the Nile valley, skirting the yellow Libyan desert, spotted with oases like the hide of a leopard.
The shadow of dusk still has the entire Red Sea to traverse, but beacons of cold light are shinning already, pale glow-worms, in an Egypt resuscitated by the feverish and wasteful activity of a forced industrialism. The Equatorial Alternators at Khartoum have been repaired. In the environs of Aswan, enormous batteries of parabolic mirrors—Solar Accumulators!—are gathering the last rays of the setting Sun. Further to the North, the Martian octopus is extending the tentacles of its central colony across the face of our unfortunate planet!
On the edge of the Nile, quite distinct from the old half-ruined Cairo, where the desert of the Pyramids was a few weeks earlier, there is a new city, an immense city. And above that prodigality of lights, above that agglomeration of factories, numerous enough to make one believe that the entire surviving population of the world is already reunited there, looms a formidable monument, which immediately monopolizes our attention and inspires us with an astonishment mingled with fear.
&
nbsp; This monstrous symbol of Martian power comprises seven stages of terraces superimposed in successive retreat, like the Roman Pharos of Alexandria or the walls of Ecbatana—but every one of these steps is as steep as a cliff. At the very top of this cyclopean assembly, on the huge plinth, at an altitude of at least 600 meters, stands the Martian Shell itself, the Shell whose 20 floors I explored, the newly-polished metal Shell that reflects the red rays of the setting Sun and the pale projections of the floodlights; and a giant Magus with wings unfurled—an effigy twice the size of the Statue of Liberty in New York—looms above the head of the Shell, whose tip it caresses with its left hand, while its articulated and mobile right arm is imperiously raised, following the course of the Sun, designating the final goal and recompense of the labor that animates the city spread out at its feet.
To add to the fantastic aspect of this apparition, the Magus and the cyclopean assembly of terraces, to the full extent of their height, are made of milky glass, lit from within—so brightly that, in the gathering twilight, the fateful Shell and the leader of the Titans loom up as a prodigious pyramid of light. It recalls both the legendary Tower of Babel and the America advertising hoardings where giant babies soap themselves in public at the very tops of skyscrapers. It is both grandiose and grotesque, absurd and sacrilegious. The Pyramids of the ancient pharaohs, which remain in a corner of the level esplanade in which this monument to pride and folly is set, seem ridiculously small by comparison, like playthings fashioned out of breadcrumbs by idle fingers at the end of a meal, in times gone by.
But what is happening in the palace of red glass that occupies the third side of that esplanade? A swarming host of cars and motorcycles is hastening over the flagstones; helicopters are depositing their human cargoes, which are meekly swallowed up by the entrance porch in the flank of that species of artificial mountain. Others are filing out in gangs and troops, heading for the industrial city…
The Martian Epic Page 26