CHAPTER I.

^T has always been the petted weak- ness of my family to have ancestors. The pictures and records of said units in the line of descent, are the capital on which the later generations have banked. The dividends have been in almost all cases ridiculously small. In spite of this, because the majority of the united voice of the family and its friends have always persist- ently declared the profits, we, the minority, have learned to be content therewith. In a humble mood, we take so much as pleases us, of our ap- portionment of the crusts of dignity and riches thrown at us.
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This ancestor-worship may be very nice, in the ordinary unfolding of life. Sometimes, how- ever, one of the said ancestors undertakes to overshadow the life of a younger scion, or per- haps to be that scion. Then the pathway of the overshadowed, through life, is not made any smoother.
In fact, 1 know this to be my case. Several hundred years ago, one of the grandfathers was a natural mystic. He loved the Invisible more than the Visible. He had eyes to see beyond the veil, and ears to hear the sounds of the "un- discovered country." His portrait, grim and forceful, hangs in the great gallery of that branch of the family who still holds the ancestral lands. In the archives of the Old Hall are written records of his supernatural powers, by which success came to him, in spite of the acci- dents usually overwhelming common mortals. He was accused by the ignorant of Superhuman knowledge, and an. almost total disregard of the
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orthodox religious practices of ttat day. But his immense wealth and high position barred to curious outsiders anything but a most superficial notion of his career. He was very near the throne, and at least two reigns were made pow- erful and brilliant through his direct influence.
There are persons who have studied both his portraits and his character. They assert his description and likeness are mine, in character and feature. According to the best attested tradition, my unfolding corresponds to his un- folding. I cannot truthfully deny being a nat- ural mystic. There is also a consciousness of certain reasons, proving to myself that I am my renowned ancestor. This solves for me, in the affirmative, the question, "Can a man be his own grandfather?"
To the natural mystic, no possible occurrence ever seems impossible. Everything we are con- scious of is simply thought made visible. What- ever, then, thought can reach, even in the wild^
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est flights of imagination, may become, under favoring conditions, visible to personal sense. Nothing that thought can grasp, or the human mind conceive, is impossible.
From my earliest recollection, I have been able to see forms, which to others are viewless. Ofttimes, in unfamiliar positions, the real and the unreal appear with equal vividness. When introduced to strangers this embarrasses a little in the matter of salutation, because address to the ordinarily unseen, would give evidence of "crankiness."
In later years, thought, mentally formulated with persistence, becomes an entity to my vis- ion. If to all this be added recurring memories of a life, not the present, in whose scenes the utmost potency of a human will, and that will apparently mine, was projected for purpose, it will be easy for the reader to perceive how tangled has become the identity of my ancestor and myself.
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As a child, solitude was always preferable to company, a single congenial friend to a crowd. Sitting passively, the walls of any room where I might be would fade away, and landscapes of tropical fervor and oriental gorgeousness, amidst which I was an honored master, would become, for a moment, a most intense reality.
Never has there come a crisis in my affairs which was not heralded by distinct premonition, and audibly spoken advice, terse and unmis- takable, given at the critical moment.
If a great desire has possessed me for the ac- complishment of purpose, the potency of my will expressed as intent has brought its realiza- tion to me. It mattered not whether it was in- fluence on atmospheric conditions, change of place, or possession. Out of the limitless store- house of the Astral, all have been granted me, under the conditions of the "manna" to the children of Israel, in the desert: for present use, a'hd the assurance of supply for future needs.
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In the later years, obligation for action on certain lines has been strongly laid upon me. I am to DO, to the extent of my ability, neither asking questions, nor formulating doubts. Un- der this obligation come to my readers these pages. I have done my best, at the point of doing. The invisible purpose will work its own end. It satisfies me to be the link binding the Eternal Past to the Eternal Future.
From the previous statement, no one would be surprised to hear me say, it did not seem strange for me to find myself in the hub of the world's traffic; the city of the incredibly mon- strous, London. This dark, noisome sewer smells to heaven. Through it, the crime and blood- guilt of a selfish world has oozed for ages, until the only hope of purification can be by fire. London is no worse than other cities, only in the accumulation of the uncleansed vileness of centuries. Under Earmic law, this piles up like the thunderheads upon the horizon, until a
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moral cyclone, or a mental thunder-storm re- stores equilibrium and the light of the Good, by manifestation, brings back the lost harmony.
In another sense, London is worse than other cities, because, from the intense forcefulness of his character, if he becomes a brute, an English- man is brutal in proportion to his dogged per- sistence. I do not love London, and am there only when obligation cannot be evaded.
During the period of which I now speak, one day in passing leisurely along a quiet street, just ahead of me an individual attracted my at- tention, who combined all the exterior marks of age with the vigor and elasticity of youth. Watching him narrowly, for his bearing seemed strangely familiar, the impression so often made upon us came to me^ that if the face should turn toward us, it would be that of an acquaint- ance, or at least one we should recall. At the same time we are absolutely certain we have never seen it bcfoj-e. ladeed, oftentimes, inci-
8 THREE SEVENS.
dents in which we were both actors seem about to be recalled, while we certainly know, in our present lives there has never been any simulta- neous action to be transferred to the memory. In this curious condition of my mind, we both came to a standstill on the same crossing. He, a little in advance, seemed introverted, or absent- minded.
As he stepped off the pavement upon the street-level, I glanced around the corner and saw a runaway horse, with pieces of the thills still dangling at his heels, tearing down upon us in such fashion as to make contact with the stranger inevitable. I dashed forward and seiz- ing him by the shoulders, dragged him back just in time to save him a severe blow, if not worse.
As he turned his marvelous face toward me, in the first moment of questioning surprise at the abrupt handling, the flash of his large, dark eye betokened reserve power, awful to conteiu-
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plate even at its first manifestation. His hair, white, but vigorous and profuse as if he were but twenty, covered a high, broad forehead, and a regular, oval face on which the seal of intellect was stamped in every feature and lineament. This was modified by an expression of kindness which would win the heart of a child at once. . Over all this, like a transparent veil, was that appearance which rested on the face of Moses, as he came forth from the Visible Presence. It is the reflection of the light beyond the land and the sea. Once seen and felt, it never, fades away. It was plain to me then, why, out of all the hundreds of passers, he only had attracted my inner self to him.
In less time than it has taken to tell, the whole event had happened, and he with stately dignity was courteously acknowledging the favor done him. Handing me his card he pressed me to call upon him at my earliest convenience. Bidding me good day with that peculiar inflec-
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tion which, like a benediction, always brings a blessing with it, he passed on his way, into the crowd.
He left me dazed and overwhelmed by the weird feeling of meeting a friend I knew had long been dead. Looking at his card I saw an historical name, at one time popular and famous for remarkable powers, but long since withdrawn from public scrutiny. It was, however, well- known to the occult fraternity that he was liv- ing in retirement, which no one unbidden might dare to intrude upon. Was it chance or guid- ance that had thus introduced me to one of the Masters? We shall see, and also why he dwelt within the confines of a great city like London.
The third day after the adventure which was to mean so much to me, as, in my rooms, I was sitting at my writing table, a letter was laid upon the partly written sheet before me. The door was locked and the windows were closed.
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No one in the flesh had entered the room. The missive had come out of the nothingness, which is the somethingness of everything existent. It was folded, and sealed, and directed plainly to myself in a familiar hand-writing.
It contained an order to attend a meeting of the brotherhood, of which I was an affiliated member. Directions and commands had often come to me from the same source, written by the same hand, but permission had never been given me to attend even the exoteric meetings. One of the first maxims impressed upon my memory at the beginning of my occult study was to "wait and learn."
The pleasure of sitting in one of these convo- cations had often suggested itself to me. That which at the first had been desire, had ceased to be anything but an anticipated pleasure of the future. It is needless to say, the appoint- ment was promptly kept on my part. The happenings of that period are now, with the
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consent of those in authority, revealed for the first time. Copying from my diary, the record is as follows :
November 3rd, A. M. — A dark, foggy day, even for London. The hour of appointment is seven P. M* I am to be called for. The cab- man must be my guide as well, for the locality is a strange one for me. I must be ready promptly."
That which follows was written immediately after the events recorded :
" A few minutes before the hour, the door- bell rang and the servant announced the cab. Throwing on my cloak and cap, I stepped out into the unabated gloom. A casual glance sug- gested to me that the lights of the cab pierced the blackness with a peculiarly aggressive clear- ness. There was a weird air of unsubstantiality about the whole conveyance. Upon entering the vehicle a sensation as of a cold wind blowing suddenly against me caused me to shudder.
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Putting this aside with the explanation that it was one of the latest effects of that horrid fog, it occurred to me that the driver had neither stirred nor spoken. The cab door had closed of its own volition, and we were already in motion at a swift pace. It was now plain to me that there was no sound to the horse's hoofs, no rat- tle nor jar of wheels on the stony pavement. Turning upon a quiet side street, the fact was confirmed that neither sound nor echo marked my rapid transit. I should have been startled, had not, long ago, the mysterious ceased to startle or even surprise me. It was impossible to have any idea of direction or distance. Ahead, shone out a brilliant stream of light, like the headlight of an engine, only whiter and more penetrating. It seemed to carve the large, powerful black horse out of the surroundi^g darkness. It was more like a dream than a reality.
" At last, in the heart of London, we stopped
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in one of those country squares accessible only by a court which is * no thoroughfare.' Origi- nally the residence of a merchant grown rich in trade, the swelling tide of business needs and uses had been limited and held back until the hemmed-in homestead was accessible only by a single narrow alley-like street. Even the greed of avarice had forgotten its location.
*'The cab stopped. I stepped through the voluntarily opening door upon the pavement, and turned to the cabman's seat to settle my fare. Nothing was visible but the darkness. Horse, cab and driver had disappeared as utterly as if the earth had swallowed them up, or as if they had vanished into the shadows of a stereopticon dissolving view.
^' For a single instant, a dazed sensation of isolation swept across my mental vision. How should I, a stranger, find my destination ? The thought had scarcely formulated itself, however, when, on the door of a massive structure loom-
THREE SEVENS. 15
ing up before me, flashed out of the darkness with a phosphorescent gleam, the number to which I had been sent. I groped my way up several steps and managed to find the old- fashioned knocker. At its ponderous sound, the door swung open, disclosing a plainly fur- nished interior. My wrappings were taken by the footman in waiting who then ushered me into a small side room on the first floor. As I entered, a clock, with a far-ofi* sounding chime, struck the hour of seven.
" Undecided, in my own mind, as to the next step, suddenly hands were laid upon my shoul- ders and a voice whispered in my ear: *Be silent and'obey,' adding a word that had brought to me many occasions for rejoicing. At the same moment a hood was slipped over my head. Blind-folded and pinioned, my shoes were removed from my feet and replaced by slippers, whose contact with the pavement gave back neither sound nor echo.
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"My captors conducted me through what seemed a main hall, turning three times, at a right angle each time. . At the first turn we descended three steps, at the second five, and at the third seven.
" Here one of my guides gave a signal of three, five and seven knocks upon a door. He was challenged, answer returned, then entering a lift we moved up. At the height of twelve feet came a challenge. The reply being satis- factory, we proceeded. Five times were we challenged. The last time I was asked: ^Who is your Master?' The name was promptly given, and permission was granted to raise my hood.
" I found myself in a room occupying all of the upper floor of the building. The solidly ceiled walls and floor, slightly eliptical in shape, gave no sign of ingress nor egress. Standing in a circle about me were fourteen forms, myself the fifteenth. Long flowing robes of white, and
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hoods of dark serge completely disguised the identity of each individual.
" He who acted as the presiding oflScer said in sonorous tones : ' Once again the sacred num- ber is complete. Let no unhallowed foot defile the holy places.' ' As thou hast said, let it be,' answered the rest of the brotherhood.
" The form and bearing of the chief speaker had been often seen by me. There was some- thing in the unedulating contour of all his move- ments that suggested a vanishing point.
*^I had, for many years, been the pupil of a master who had never, as yet, made himself visible to me in the flesh. Good reason had been given me to suppose, during this visit to London the pleasure of an interview with him would be granted. As all this, in sequence, flashed across my brain, a voice reached my inner sense, saying : ' Not here, nor now. Be patient.' I made no farther question, even in thought.
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"Looking about me, I noticed there was neither door nor window. The whole circular side and the floor of the Hall were apparently one piece of cedar of Lebanon, dark with age. No sooner had this fact fixed itself upon my per- ception, than I heard again the voice: 'So incloses the circle of necessity every man born of woman.'
" Overhead, the roof was vaulted in the form of the concave blue above the e»th. On it I could see faintly the outlines, in miniature, of the heavens above us.
"' This teaches, that escape from the bondage of matter lies only through the study and per- ception of that which is above us,' said the voice.
" I looked for the source of light, by which these curious things were visible. There was no candle, gas, nor other human mode of illumina- tion. Everything was, however, perfectly dis- tinct. It seemed like the light of day, but I
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knew it was night outside, and a dark night at that.
" And the voice said : ' Light is the birthright of all children of the Father, and is free to all. Do you understand?' I bowed assent.
'^ Then the sonorous accents of the Master, speaking in the outer, said : ^ Let the instruc- tion commence by threes.'
"Following two of my companions, who beckoned to me, we moved to reclining seats on couches, which might have been taken from the Hall of a Greek symposium. Thus, half- reclining, our eyes fixed on the starry vault above us, which now flamed out with startling distinctness, the eldest discoursed of the Unity from whence came all things that are. It is impossible for me to recall all his impressive bursts of eloquence. But the following stamped itself most vividly upon my mind :
" ' There is but one self-existent force." It is the germ cell of all manifestation. Everything
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comes forth from It, and everything returns to It. There is but one Truth, and that is the truth of Being. There is but one law, and that is the law of polarity. There is but one motion and that is vibration. All is one. Only in the illusion of manifestation does duality become visible. Aspire always in harmony and align- ment with the One/
" To this instruction, clearly and forcibly stated, each of the members of the triad added what little stock of knowledge was ours. When we reached the point of man's creation, we were arranged in fives, and instruction imparted in the same manner. Finally, when the relations of man to God, and to his environment, were the topic of discourse, we were grouped in sevens, while the Master of the Section, from a raised dias, taught us, as one having authority and wisdom and understanding. Would that the world was ripe for his instruction.
" When he had made an end of speaking, he
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lifted his hands in benediction. For the time being all memory of self had disappeared. The rising flood-tide of new truth and novel presen- tation had overwhelmed me. In this condition unconsciousness supervened. With a start I found myself in my bed, at my lodgings. Could it be possible I^had dreamed all this? The clock at the foot of my bed indicated days of the week and month. Looking up at the dial the hands stood at November 10. Seven days had elapsed, since, on the open page of my diary, I had noted the incoming of a long-hoped- for day." So closes the record.
A few days after this, in a portion of the city unfamiliar to me, an irresistible guidance rested upon me. To this there can only be submis- sion. It suddenly came into my thought, that the street and number corresponded with my friend's card, whom I had the honor to protect from accident at the street crossing.
The mansion antedated the Elizabethan era.
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It was built with all the masaiyeness by which, in constructive operations, our ancestors ex- pressed their haughty pride. The determination to baffle the destroying power of time was evi- dent in every detail. Defiant through age and change have these buildings stood in their impenetrable British obstinacy, until their very stones have become saturated with the darkness and fog of the world's clearing house. On the three-ply oaken door, a big, brazen Egyptian scarabaeus gleamed with as much brightness as was possible to be induced by polishing a Lon- don door knocker.
I went up the five, foot-worn steps, and rais- ing the brass beetle let it fall. Perhaps it was my nervousness; or it might have been the stillness of the quiet street, but it really seemed as if the fearfully resonant clang shook the old pile to its foundations. It was out of all pro- portion to the means employed. The door swung ponderously open, and a servant of oriental
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&ce and lineage, with profound salaam, took my card and ushered me into a small waiting- room at the left.
Here, after a very short interval, my chance acquaintance entered. As I rose to greet him, the far-off voice, I have before mentioned as knowing so well, challenged, and I replied. When the pass-words were interchanged, the sound blended and became one with his own voice, as, offering his hand, he gave me greeting. His &ce opened in its expression, and I was conscious of standing in the presence of my beloved Master, who, for so many years, had unreservedly offered me all that could be desired of the knowledge of the truth. In the ensuing conversation, he casually expressed himself as having had personal acquaintance with a gentleman of my family, naming my ancestor, of whom I have been so harassingly conscious.
As there is an interim of several hundred
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years between the time of my ancestor's career and the period now spoken of, to the ordinary routine thinker it would appear, either that there was a strange coincidence, or the old gen- tleman was a little unbalanced. To me his statement seemed perfectly natural. Recurring memory, to my personal consciousness, sus- tained the assertion. It never occurred to me, for a single iustant, to doubt the fact.
When, after a long and pleasant chat, we separated, the invitation to come again was not simply from the lip. He was evidently satis- fied with my progress. Turning to an oleander tree, standing in a little recess, he picked from it a bud just developing from the stalk. Hand- ing it to me he said : " When this shall have bloomed, come again." To all appearance, the chances were a thousand to one that it would dry up and wither away, instead of blooming. Preserving it carefully in my note-book I car- ried it home, aud laid it on my writing table«
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On the fourth day, the bud which had in no degree lost the freshness of its first plucking, bursty in an instant, into full bloom. At the moment of its action my eyes were fixed upon it. But I could not describe the occurrence. Without warning of sequence, beyond a slight increase in size, it was only a step from the bud to the fullest bloom.
It was one of the marvels of the Orient, of which traveUers tell us so constantly and per- sistently, while we regard them as bordering closely on the impossible. We listen attentirely to our travelled friends, whose words we would believe on any other subject, and wonder how persons with so much sense could be hum- bugged with such jugglery. We also wonder if they expect us, wise tw, to be convinced by such thin mendacity of a pilgrim's tale.
As I have said, when the flower came thus into its full expansion, my gaze was fixed upon it All my surroundings vanished. I was
26 THREE SEVENS.
seated on a divan, covered with the richest text- ures of Indian looms, rare, beautiful and costly. Through the open verandah of a beau- tiful marble palace, came soft, spice-laden breezes from the rare flowers of the great gar- dens. Around me was everything that per- tained to the cultivation and enjoyment of the sensuous. By my side was a fair girl, upon whose cheek the seal of the tropics was but lightly set. I was her emperor, her king, her light, her life. I could hear her voice, like the ripple of the sad waves, saying :
" But, as my lord goes hence into the changes of the measureless future, when shall Isa see him again ? Will he still love her ?"
"The bond," I answer, "will always bind, Isa, wherever the soul manifests in a human body, be it man or woman."
" Will my lord swear it to Isa, by the oath that, until redeemed, obligates the soul, for all time to come?'*
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Resistlessly I hear the slow, solemn words of that awful adjuration, seemingly voiced by myself.
Plucking a full-blown blossom from an olean- der, just outside the verandah, she flings it up toward the lofty ceiling. It disappears utterly.
" That shall be our pledge. When, out of the astral currents the blossom comes again to thee, remember, Isa's soul claims love and devo- tion."
The lines grow misty, and out of the dimness comes back the everyday surroundings. The oleander blossom lies before me still, in its freshest fragrance. Was it really the pledge of that incarnation closed thousands of years since ? And who is Isa? Is she — ? But I am for- bidden to utter that name. Has she, inspired by love, using her powerftil intellect and quick perceptions, been able to become a guide and teacher ? Love is at once the mystery and the absolute controller of the Universe.
28 THREE SEVENS.
Many things grow perceptible in the light of this lesson. The kaleidoscope of life has turned in a most unexpected manner. But through it all, I feel possessed of the double consciousness of the seer, and do not read it, only as fgr another.
I have lingered, thinking, but now gladly prepare to obey the summons. It does not take long to reach my destination.
He receives me, this time, in his library, a large room filled from floor to ceiling with books in many languages, a large part in manuscript and cipher. Millions of money would be freely given for the translation of some of these ciphers, for therein was hidden the knowledge that can give health, wealth and potency. He held the key, and was satisfied to be ungorged and unburdened with a load of wealth. The happiness of understanding was his. All physi- cal elements and conditions were under control. Master of the secrets of the Universe, he had
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no desire beyond the utmost frugality of habit. Attainment destroys desire.
Of the purport of our conversation, and the instruction received then, and at succeeding occasions of my intimacy with him, it is not a part of this story. In the visible^ we became the closest of friends, as we had always been whenever, in previous incarnations, we had met.
To all outward appearance, my friend was a person who lived in retirement, on ample means, absorbed in abstruse studies. When he first came to London, he had been a practicing phy- sician. He still had a few wealthy patients, who were able and willing to pay the fees he demanded in hopes of shaking off their patron- age altogether. It must be confessed his patients were seldom sick.
Passing thus lightly over these details, neces- sary to the understanding of the story, we come to the point where this story really commences. It is his story, not mine, I am trying to tell.