[Illustration: Adapted from Ignatius Donnelly’s map of Atlantis, page 47
of the “Atlantis,” by permission of Harper & Brothers. Cleit, Chimo, and
Luith are names fictitious.]
POSEIDON’S PARADISE
_The Romance of Atlantis_
BY
ELIZABETH G. BIRKMAIER
SAN FRANCISCO
The Clemens Publishing Co.
415 MONTGOMERY STREET
1892.
COPYRIGHT, 1892,
BY ELIZABETH G. BIRKMAIER.
_All Rights Reserved._
CONTENTS.
PAGE.
I. A DECLARATION OF WAR 5
II. QUEEN ATLANA 20
III. ATLANTIS VERSUS PELASGIA 29
IV. THE PELASGIAN CAPTIVES 38
V. THE ABDUCTION 55
VI. THE VOICE 67
VII. THE TEMPLE 79
VIII. POSEIDON’S FESTIVAL DAY 98
IX. THE ‘SILENT PRIEST’ 111
X. LIGHT ON THE PATH 127
XI. THE HAPPENING OF THE UNEXPECTED 142
XII. THE EARTHQUAKE CONFOUNDS 153
XIII. IN THE ‘DEEPS’ 162
XIV. A TIMELY TORRENT 176
XV. THE ALTAR FIRES GO OUT 198
XVI. THE SILENT ONE SPEAKS 217
XVII. THE SINKING OF THE ISLAND 237
XVIII. PYRRHA 253
XIX. THE BEGINNING OF PEACE 269
XX. HAPPY PAIRS 275
XXI. IN PELASGIA 291
“_Time dissipates to shining ether the solid angularity of facts. No
anchor, no cable, no fences avail to keep a fact a fact. Babylon, and
Troy, and Tyre, and even early Rome are passing into fiction. The Garden
of Eden, the sun standing still in Gibeon, is poetry thenceforward to
all nations._”—EMERSON.
POSEIDON’S PARADISE.
CHAPTER I.
A DECLARATION OF WAR.
It was thousands of years before the Christian era—how many thousands no
chronicler has stated. And the island lay, as through the ages past,
fair and imperial in the Atlantic. Though now was it becoming wanton,
even to its undoing. Else would not this be written.
Midsummer was upon this Atlantis, upon the islands attendant that served
as stepping-stones to the continents beyond. Under the soft
sensuousness, the morn was taking richer glow, the streams brightening
to gold, the gardens and vineyards glorifying in green; whilst hill and
mountain grew alluring in shadow and color, the palaces lustrous in
their tri-tinted stones, and the temples’ syenite a gleaming red that
rivaled the flashing orichalcum studding domes and pinnacles. The great
island was a gorgeous mosaic: and its setting, sapphire, that royal
stone emblematic of calm and truth; for the laving waters were as serene
as blue, in such being all suggestive of that repose which comes of
perception of the true. The whole was a glory.
About Cleit, that royal city gracing the stream Luith, in the
southeastern part of the island, there was an unusual stir. This day was
to be observed one of the most ancient, and therefore simplest, of the
customs of Atlantis. The king and royal rulers were to give audience to
the principal captains of the nation, and receive the certificates of
their prowess for the year. And now, from Cleit’s harbor, which was a
few miles southward of the city, at the mouth of Luith, were speeding
the galleys of Cleit’s captains; whilst from points north, east, south,
and west, the many other captains were hastening, that all might meet in
the grounds of the royal palace before noon of this auspicious day.
Upon the great marble landing place, these captains came together, about
them thronging the people in gayest holiday attire. Most evident was it
that the latter still took pleasure in this old-fashioned observance,
that they wished not to fall behind in its celebration, notwithstanding
the times were changing so wofully. Many had been the prognostications
of the few conservatives remaining that erelong this simple, this most
ancient custom, would come to naught. Indeed, most of these had averred
privately that the meeting of the year before would prove the last.
Yet here were again convening these mighty captains—size being a
consideration of their office. Here, again, were they towering above the
average Atlantean, tall as he was. Fine was it to note their flashing
eyes, their grand bearing, as they imparted such information as they
were free to give to the curious, fast-questioning ones; but finer to
witness the expanding eyes of the latter as their ears took in the
wonder, the verity of it all!
But the great silver gong was sounding. It was noon. Then men, women,
and children burst into acclamations. Already were the captains forming
into line, with the captain general at the head. Again sounded the gong.
Therewith, the line filed along the marble pathway to the palace,
followed by the cheering throng.
But gradually the throng quieted. Ever was the palace neared reverently.
There was a hush, when, from out the thick foliage, it arose upon them
lustrous in its stones of red, white, and black, its facings of
alabaster, its columns of marble and orichalcum, its red pinnacles;—a
palace well befitting this land of glamour.
Like all the other palaces of the island, this was simple of
construction. The main plan consisted of rectangles set about a great
court, these rectangles being two-storied. In the lower story, light was
admitted through large apertures protected by curtains and shutters of
hard wood set in at will. Additional light was also admitted from the
upper story, which was supported by columns and open at the sides,
curtains excluding the sunshine at pleasure. Some of these columns
extended from the lower floor to the roof; others rested on the walls of
the lower story, where the thickness would permit; and each was many
volumes in its inscriptions and sculptures.
The captains mounted the grand portico with its columns of marble and
orichalcum, each innumerable volumes; passed through the narrowing
portal, guarded by its colossal winged bulls, to the great hall; and
thence to the state chamber—on the right, still followed by the throng.
Great and glittering was this oblong state chamber. Its high, arched
ceiling of ivory and bronze was rich in gilding. The walls were paneled
in ivory overlaid with silver, many of the panels being inscribed with
the laws of Poseidon and Atlas. The pavement was of blue and white
marbles. To this fell from the apertures hangings of finest yellow
linen. The seats were of carved ebony; and at the farther end were the
golden throne, and the ivory chairs of the rulers, priests, and nobles.
With arms folded on their breasts and heads bent low, the captains
advanced until they stood a goodly row before their king. He, of name
Atlano, sat high on a dais raised above another dais; and about him were
ranged the royal rulers. On the lower dais sat the priests and nobles,
the priests being to the right.
When the apartment could hold no more, the gong sounded. Thereupon the
chamberlain, who stood out upon the lower dais, made the sign; and low
bent these that had just entered before their king, until the
chamberlain said, “Ye will arise.”
The king then waved his scepter. As one, the priests and nobles stood to
intone a welcome to the captains. Afterward, arose the royal rulers to
smile and bow in greeting.
The white raiment and silver circlets of the priests were in strong
contrast to the gorgeous robing and jeweled headgear of the rulers and
nobles. But the king was dazzling in his royal purple robe, his
scintillating crown, and the wondrous mantle sacred to himself. This
last was ingeniously fashioned of finest, rarest feathers, varying in
color from cream to orange, and was of such length as to sweep the floor
behind. Though well he bore this aggregation of rich hues. For Atlano
was handsome in the best Atlantean type, though his expression was
harsh, cruel. But he was softening somewhat at sight of these brave
captains standing in such humility before him. And, smiling, he
addressed them.
[Illustration]
“Captains, thy king giveth greeting.”
They responded, “O most gracious of kings, Atlano, long may thy great
self thus beam upon thy captains!”
Atlano inclined his head. The rulers, priests, and nobles intoned:
“Long, O most gracious king, Atlano, may thy captains thus come before
thee!”
“Long live the king!” returned the captains.
Then followed an invocation to the gods by the aged high priest Olto,
his son, the chief priest Oltis, assisting. Thereafter, the rulers,
priests, and nobles sat down, and the king addressed the chamberlain.
“Shafo, if it seemeth good, the captains may now tell us of their work.”
The chamberlain pointed with his wand: “Captain General, thou wilt
begin.”
The captain general stepped out from his fellows, and, in measured
tones, replied as if to the king:
“O most gracious of kings, Atlano, this I state to thy great self: I,
captain of the war vessel _Atlas_, since leaving the harbor of Cleit,
eleven moons since, have sailed around the country of the Afrites, and
up its eastern coast. At many places, we fell upon the black people, and
took of their gold and ivory; and then sent them into the inner parts to
get incense trees, nutwoods, ebony, apes with dog heads,[1] monkeys with
long tails, and greyhounds. It is two weeks since we came into harbor,
and yielded our cargo. This showeth its worth, and stateth the sums we
of the vessel merit.”
Bowing low, the captain general handed a roll of papyrus to an
attendant, who laid it upon a table below the dais.
The chamberlain then pointed his wand toward the captain first in line.
He stepped forward, and spoke in uncertain tones that slowly
strengthened:
“O most gracious of kings, Atlano, this I state to thy great self: I,
captain of the trading vessel _Mestor_, came into Chimo thirty days
since from our people of Chimu,[2] whither I sailed twelve moons ago,
bearing a cargo of dried fruits, grains, and rare woods. There I found
our people building a temple to the great Amen, that in shape is like
unto a pyramid, and in size is half a mile around. Already are the
temples, palaces, and tombs of Chimu looking as ours. And great is the
decking in gold and silver, for the mines are not far. Of gold, silver,
and gems I bring to Chimo large stores. This showeth the worth of the
cargo, and the sums which we of the vessel merit.”
The captain handed his roll to the captain general, who, in turn, handed
it to the attendant. When this captain had resumed his place, the next
captain, at beck of the chamberlain, stepped out to continue:
“O most gracious of kings, Atlano, this I state to thy great self: I,
captain of the war vessel _Azaes_, left Autochthin seven moons since to
bear to the fair green island[3] in the north a band of our people, and
with them left the means of living for the time of twelve moons. On my
way from there I ran in the passage to the Middle Sea[4] to look about a
little, but at once sped back upon seeing some large vessels, strange
and threatening. It is twenty days since I came into Autochthin. I bring
to thee, O most gracious King, this written word of the planting of our
people in the island, of their further needs, and of the sums that we of
the vessel merit.”
And the captain handed in his roll.
At mention of these unknown vessels, the king’s scarcely-concealed
indifference vanished. He looked surprised, then alarmed. With
increasing emotion, he glanced from rulers to nobles to find their
wearied expressions had, at least, become interested.
But on went the harangues. One captain had sailed beyond the western
seas, and northward up a mighty river to the colony Missos.[5] Another
had sailed around the country of the Afrites, and eastward to that
sultry land that supplied them with gems. Another had been to the land
of the Eskaldi.[6] Thus ran the reports until it was the turn of the
last captain but one. He stepped out with an air important; and, in more
important tone, began:
“O most gracious of kings, Atlano, to thy great self I would state that
I am captain of the vessel _Paero_. It is eleven moons since I left for
Khemi,[7] with a cargo of rare woods, grains, and wool. I bring from
Khemi green stone, red granite of Syene, and the byssus of the Middle
Sea. Yesterday came I back to Cleit; and therefore have I not my roll.
But within a day will it be ready.”
But this captain, instead of returning to his place, stood waiting.
“What wilt thou, Sir Captain?” asked the chamberlain.
“O most gracious of kings, Atlano, to thy great self I would state
more.”
Most eager became the expressions of king and nobles. The captain paused
until the chamberlain signed for him to continue.
“Most gracious king, a people across the Middle Sea, to the north of
Khemi, causeth fear in the lands about it because of its quick rise to
power. It is not long since this people passed over from the far east,
and now it ruleth the sea. It is magic.”
The king’s red skin deepened to purple. In a voice grown hoarse, he
exclaimed:
“The name of this people!”
And the chamberlain iterated, “The name of this people!”
“O most gracious king, Atlano, their land is Pelasgia. They are called
Pelasgians. Their king is Pelasgus.”
“They have a king, then?”
This the chamberlain also iterated, as he did the ensuing questions.
“O most gracious king, Atlano, they have a king.”
“Know they how to war?”
“O most gracious King, they are fond of peace; and think but of trade
and tilling the ground.”
“More! More!”
“O most gracious King, I know no more.”
“Let him to his place. Cause some other captain to tell me more!”
The captain who had put back from the Middle Sea stepped out, getting
the start of the only captain yet to be heard from. But the latter was
willing to bide his time. At beck of the chamberlain, the former
declared:
“O most gracious of kings, Atlano, then was it the vessels of this
people that so troubled us. Nothing like them have I seen for size and
strength.”
The king turned to left, to right, demanding fiercely, “Hear ye this?
Hear ye this?”
Senil, the most venerable of the rulers, arose.
“Senil, what wilt thou?”
“King Atlano, we hear; and it seemeth evil.”
“What is the thing we shall do?”
“O most gracious King, that will we do which seemeth good to thee.”
The king’s face testified to his emotions. His anger had given way to
wild triumph. He ejaculated:
“Senil, Rulers, Nobles, we will bring them to naught! It shall not be
said that any power holdeth the sea with Atlantis!”
He turned to regard the captain, who had not as yet resumed his place;
and muttered:
“If this be true—if this be true.”
There was then heard a meaning cough from the last captain, who had been
so forgotten. The king noted this, and said:
“Shafo, there is one captain who hath not been heard.”
At the sign, this captain stepped forth with an air even more important
than had been that of the captain of the _Paero_, and the captain who
had withdrawn from the Middle Sea bowed back to his place. Of due weight
were this captain’s tones.
“O most gracious of kings, Atlano, to thy great self I would state that
I, the captain of the trading vessel _Osir_, came back but yesterday to
Elasippa from our land of Shaphana,[8] after bringing there grain,
cotton, and linen, and taking in corn, wine, and oil. There I heard much
of this new power, for, of late, its vessels come within the harbor of
Shaphana. Thus far this Pelasgia thinketh not of war, but of trade. Her
vessels are marvels of strength and speed.”
“Hear ye this?” interrupted Atlano, turning to rulers and nobles, “Her
vessels are marvels of strength and speed!” Then, of the captain, he
demanded:
“Thou sayest not that thou didst see aught of these?”
The chamberlain iterated this.
“O most gracious of kings, I have to say that I saw them. Two were
speeding into harbor as we left it. Nowhere have I seen vessels that
come nigh them!”
The king arose and stared at this captain, until he perforce stammered:
“O most gracious king, I have not my roll; but in two days will it be
ready.”
But not of him, nor of his certificate, was the king thinking. His
thought was for this new, menacing power. After some minutes’
absorption, his tones rang fierce:
“Is there more?”
The chamberlain iterated, “Is there more?”
“O most gracious of kings, there is no more.”
The captain was waved back to his place. The king, standing most erect,
addressed all.
“Rulers, Priests, Nobles, Captains, Leaders, People, let us look to
this. Let it be the one mind to fall upon and crush this Pelasgia! What
will ye?”
Senil arose.
“Senil, what wilt thou?”
“King Atlano, we will as thou.”
The other rulers arose.
“Rulers, what will ye?”
“King Atlano, we will as thou.”
Phiro, a noble young and ardent, here arose.
“Phiro, what sayest thou?”
“Gracious King, if it pleaseth thee, let those who are for war bend the
knee.”
“It is well. Rulers, Priests, Nobles, Captains, Leaders, People,—ye that
are for war bend the knee, and let us beseech the gods.”
Great was the stir in the vast assemblage. Then every soul bent the
knee, even to the king, while the feeble tones of the high priest began
to be heard, asking for blessing on this so suddenly conceived
undertaking. When he had finished, the king arose, the others still
remaining on their knees, until he said:
“Ye may arise.”
When all were standing, and the hush was deepening, the king exulted:
“It is one voice. Here let us make the vow to sweep from the earth this
new power—these marvels of vessels. Swear!”
Every right arm was pointed heavenward, every voice said solemnly, “We
swear!”
“So be it. Now will we to work. The Leaders!”
There was a mighty stir. This indeed meant war.
The chamberlain beckoned; and the leaders, who were next in rank to the
captains, stepped from their places against the walls on right and left.
Tall and stalwart were they, and attired much like the captains. They
wore not the ordinary loose-flowing robes, but close-fitting tunics,
short, loose lower garments similar to the trousers of to-day, and high
boots of soft skins. On their heads were helmet-shaped caps of red
linen; and about their waists were broad bronze belts, inscribed with
their office and number.
These leaders formed a considerable body in the kingdom, each province
having its quota. Their office was this: When war was declared, each was
to furnish one-sixth of the portion of a war chariot with its two horses
and riders; also, a light chariot with a fighting man on foot and
charioteer; also, two heavy-armed men, two archers, two slingers, three
stone shooters, three javelin men, and four sailors.[9]
Of course these leaders present belonged to Cleit; but it was understood
that whatever the king commanded them, the nine rulers would command
their own.
To these leaders the king spoke impressively.
“Leaders, ye know your duty. This day begin measures for most bitter
war.”
On their knees sank the leaders, and there remained until ordered by the
chamberlain to arise. Then their spokesman answered:
“O most gracious of kings, Atlano, thy leaders, as thou hast said, know
well their duty. They will to it this day.”
Then, with faces to the king, they moved to their places.
The king addressed the rulers.
“Ye, kin rulers, will speed on the morrow to your cities, and then give
orders to your leaders. Ere the coming moon is old, gather your vessels
within this harbor. Then on to lay Pelasgia low!”
The assemblage, as one, echoed:
“Yea—on—to lay Pelasgia low!”
The exultant king continued:
“This further will I say: Daily, at the noon hour, let every noble come
to this state chamber, that plans may be made, and given out. Let every
captain make well ready his vessel for the men, food, and weapons of
war. Let the people be of one mind through it all.”
A murmur of acclamation arose and swelled, the smiling king permitting
it, until it became a mighty shout. This the people without heard, and
answered—forgetting reverence—until the hangings of the palace moved.
And still the king stood smiling.
When there was quiet, he said, with warmth: “Thus endeth this gathering
of the captains. Brave captains, well have ye done. Thy king knoweth
pride beyond measure. The gods be with you.”
The captains, after bowing to the floor, stood proudly erect. The high
priest gave the blessing. Afterward, when the king, with his rulers,
nobles, and priests, had sat down, the chamberlain waved his wand.
Slowly the assemblage went out, with faces ever to the king. Deeply they
saluted him at the threshold, before disappearing. Of these the captains
were the last to withdraw, as they had been the first to enter.
Exultant, with the king, all passed out to the perfect day, to spread
wide this unlooked-for result of the convention.
Yet still continued the day in its soft, serene loveliness.
The king, rulers, and nobles remained to confer. But this conference was
interrupted somewhat when the waiting islanders without received word of
this declaration of war. Again, forgetting reverence, they became
jubilant. So much did these Atlanteans love conquest. Those within the
state chamber were but stimulated, doing quick, vigorous work.
One most important measure of this conference was the unanimous
agreement that the queen should reign during the king’s absence. The
nine rulers (descendants of the nine younger brothers of Atlas, eldest
son of Poseidon) were to remain at home in order to sustain her, and be
subject in a body to her call. Further, though this was spoken only
inwardly, they could the better watch each other. As each made solemn
vow to be loyal to country and queen, Atlano, of his mocking spirit,
laughed within.
For, how could they do otherwise? Would not he bear with him, his ablest
nobles, his chiefs, his captains, his warmen, his sailors? And would
they not return laden with spoils, strengthened, rioting of victory?
What could stand against them? Well might these rulers vow to be loyal!