Along Civilization's
TrailBy Ralph M. Lewis, K. R. C. [From The Rosicrucian Digest July 1938] Editor's
Note:--This is the fifteenth episode of a narrative by the Supreme Secretary
relating the experiences he and his party had in visiting mystic shrines and
places
in Europe
and the ancient world. A STRANGE EXPERIENCE WE BOTH concentrated our digging and probing on the
one place in which we had made our discovery. We were soon rewarded for our
efforts and we turned up brick after brick, each weighing about ten pounds, all
deeply and clearly inscribed in cuneiform, some bearing the inscription of
Nebuchadnezzar's name. Turning them over, we saw that they had a sticky black
substance smeared on them. "Looks and smells like asphaltum," said
Brower. "It is," I replied, "the Babylonians had
asphalt or bitumen pits, and they used this substance to coat their bricks just
as we use the same material today as a preservative on our roads and highways."
"And you will observe," I continued, "that it has done an
excellent job." We hurried, for the hour was getting late, to reduce the
size of the bricks--because of their weight--with a hammer we had for the
purpose. We knocked away all except the area containing the inscriptions. We
soon had a very representative collection, and one quite heavy. We intended to
take them back with us to America
for the Rosicrucian
Museum. In fact, they are
now part of the collection to be seen in the Babylonian and Assyrian gallery of
the Rosicrucian Museum.
In this same palace where we were making our
discoveries an outstanding tragedy had happened. Alexander the Great, after
successfully putting to rout the army of Darius, the Persian king who occupied
Babylon at that time, and taking over Babylon himself, was murdered in this
palace at the height of his power, and, it is said, while in a drunken stupor.
Near here, in this series of earth mounds, was the ruins of a library. Ashurbanipal,
last Assyrian king, and grandson of Sennacherib, built himself a great library
at Nineveh, Assyrian city located north of the
present city of Bagdad.
This was centuries before the great Alexandrian Library of the Greeks. He had
thousands of clay tablets inscribed in cuneiform writing placed in jars. These
stone books, for this is what they were, were placed in rows on shelves,
properly classified. There were thousands of them, devoted to the subjects of
science, history, various phases of literature and religion. Hanging from the
top of each was a little straw tag giving the title of the tablet, or the
subject of the book. Some of these books were later filed in a library built in
Babylon, and
they have not yet been discovered.
The great library of Nineveh has been found; that is
how we know of these books and their classification, and most of its stone
books which lay in a heap when the building crumbled are now in the British
Museum in London. On some of these tablets are found parts of the story of the
flood mentioned in the Old Testament. The legend, as it also appears in the Old
Testament, tells of the hero building a large boat on which he took his wife
and a pair of each of the animals, and that all other humans and animals were destroyed
by the deluge, and that finally when the flood subsided, he and his wife and
the animals were left to perpetuate themselves as the only living things. This story
is undoubtedly based upon an actual local flood within that region, and of
course it was thought by the early writers to have been a deluge of the whole
world. It was passed perhaps by word of mouth, or even by tablet, to the Egyptians,
thence to the Hebrews, and it was finally incorporated in the Christian literature.
We loaded our camera equipment into the car, also the
inscribed stones, for our porter would not help us with them. They were to him
taboo; that is, untouchable. A curse, so the natives believed, would be
inflicted upon those who disturbed the property of the dead. The Assyrians,
like the Egyptians, threatened trespassers and those who would violate their
sacred precincts with oaths of vengeance. Ashurbanipal, for example, declared
in cuneiform writing on each stone tablet of his library (each book, in other
words), that "whosoever shall carry off this tablet or shall inscribe his
name upon it side by side with my own, may Assur and Belit (gods) overthrow him
in wrath and anger, and may they destroy his name and posterity in the land."
Now we began to realize why they feared to visit this site. Strange, too, since
working in the palace rooms I felt rather ill. Beads of cold perspiration stood
out on my forehead, unusual for this climate. I felt exceptionally tired. My
head throbbed slightly. I laughed to myself, and said, "the power of
suggestion."
Relieved of our burdens, we climbed over several
mounds to another large pile of crumbling brick. It is referred to by some
authorities as the remains of the Towe[r] of Babel, mentioned in the Old Testament. The
Babylonians, contrary to popular knowledge, built many large towers. The one to
which the Old Testament refers was just one of many similar structures. The
predecessors of the Babylonians were the Sumerians, a people who came from a
mountain land far to the north, and finally settled on this plain which they
named the plain of Shinar. In their home land they worshipped in temples on
mountain tops a god named Enlil. He was the god of the earth. To simulate the
mountain temples they built great tower temples which were cube-like in shape.
The base was nearly as large in area as the height of the structure.
Surrounding the base was a great stone courtyard. On one side three large
inclines or ramps made it possible to reach the first two levels of the tower, and
from there a gradual incline continued around the entire structure, making it
possible to reach the tower top. On the top was the actual temple itself in
which dwelt the priests, and in which the ceremonies were conducted.
Koldewey, German excavator and archaeologist, has
reconstructed, from the plans he made of the ruins of Babylonian tower temples,
complete models showing how they actually appeared in ancient times. The
highest of these towers was probably some four hundred feet, which, like the
great pyramid of Gizeh, looked by comparison to the surrounding level terrain
much greater. Of course, to the captive Hebrews, this god of the Babylonians
was a false one, and the worship of him on such a high edifice, reaching, it
seemed, into the clouds, was a defiling of the sanctuary of their own god,
consequently the story of the Tower
of Babel. These tower
temples contributed to later architecture and were first copied during the
Hellenistic period. The world's first lighthouse, on Pharos
Island, outside the ancient port of Alexandria,
Egypt,
was a copy of these tower temples. It, in turn, became the model for the
Mohammedan minarets.
As we pondered among these ruins, in our mind's eye
we could see the Hebrew slaves, naked except for loin cloth, with matted hair
and beards, fettered with bronze chains and anklets, toiling, sweating, and
stumbling in their misery and near exhaustion, in the blazing sun under the
lash of the whips of their Babylonian captors, making and carrying the brick
which was raising a tower for the worship of the god of their oppressors,
offering prayers silently for their deliverance--prayers, the echo of which
still ring in the chapters of the Old Testament. Cruelty, yes. Unnecessary--yes,
also. But the custom neither began with the Babylonians nor did it end with
them. This much can be said of the Babylonians: Their persecution of the Jews
was not primarily a religious one, but a political one. Judea
being a subordinate state and a rebellious one, its warriors became political
prisoners of the Babylonians, not religious ones. Persian, Lydian, and Assyrian
prisoners were treated likewise by them. Today, NOW, the Jews suffer
persecution again, but in this day and age it is not principally political
persecution but religious or racial persecution, which is a far greater
reflection upon the level of intelligence of an age than the punishment of a
people because of political uprising.
I found it difficult to draw myself back into my
immediate surroundings. My thoughts seemed so easily to restore these ruins
into the gloriously beautiful structures they once were. Ethereal throngs
pushed by me, jostled me; strange sounds came to my ears. It seemed that the
citizenry of this ancient place were again going to and fro, attired in their
costumes of yore, occupied with their interests of four thousand years ago. I
was an unseen spectator of their daily life. My own life and times became a
vague dream, difficult to realize. To think of the present was an effort. In
fact, the present was unreal. I was slipping back into the past where I felt,
somehow, I rightly belonged. Further, I felt as though I were relieved of a
burden, like one returning from a journey of responsibility in a distant land.
I was now among friends, yet something continually annoyed me, a voice, faint,
distant, but distinct, kept calling me. I could not avoid it. If I listened,
this joyous procession, this Babylon
of which I was now a part, became hazy. I decided to get away from this voice,
to move along with the people about me, to enter into their spirit and mood. I
rose, but I seemed to float; surprising to me, yet a pleasure, was the
sensation.
Then the sound of my name crashed down upon me like a
bolt of lightning. It shattered the vista before me; towers, palaces, streets,
peoples, slaves--they all fell into mere parts like a jigsaw puzzle dropped
abruptly on pavement. They melted before my eyes, and through the mist there
appeared the face of Frater Brower. He was speaking, but his voice was still
distant; then it gradually grew stronger as though it were approaching me from
afar. He was shaking me by the shoulder and saying, "What is the matter
with you? Why don't you answer me? We must get back. Are you ill? You are
extremely pale." I realized now I must have fainted momentarily while
seated on the sub-foundation wall of this tower temple. And yet, how clear had
been my experience, how vivid in all its details, hardly like an hallucination
that comes from an ordinary lapse of objective consciousness. I was ill,
extremely so; I burned with fever. My mouth was parched and I was badly
nauseated.
Over and over again, like a leer, the words of the
Babylonian execration imploring the gods to punish despoilers coursed through
my mind. I attempted to ridicule myself as I lay in the back of the bouncing
car heading again toward Bagdad. I thought of
the dozen or more volumes I had read quoting the authorities of the world, and
of the Rosicrucian teachings, all of which discredited this superstitious
belief, yet mocking me was this ailment, the discomfitures of which gave the
oaths a more vivid realism to my semi-delirious mind than anything which I
could recall having read or studied. Reason gave way to fantasy. I pictured
myself as the victim whose life was to be given to prove the mysterious potency
of these ancient curses. I had been chosen to vindicate the Babylonians, to
discredit the stigma modern science had placed upon the forces which they were
said to invoke!
Several days of quiet, after a diagnosis of my case
as mild tropical fever combined with intestinal influenza, caused possibly by
an insect bite on the desert, saw me rally sufficiently to prepare for the trek
back across the desert. Our trail was now to lead northward and westward like
the flow of the ancient civilization whose sites we had been visiting.
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