Where Barbicane employs the imagery of Columbus, the great explorer of the seas, Kennedy sets a metaphor of space as a “sea,” arousing the same emotional bravado employed by Verne in beckoning to travel to the moon. Prophetically, Kennedy paraphrases the name of the very place where his own new Columbuses would step: The Sea of Tranquility (which sired the infamous Tranquility Lodge No. 2000 in Waco, Texas, on—you guessed it—the 33rd parallel). The sea plays enormous symbolic importance in the imagery of Verne, a man who not only coveted sea travel, but gave to his alpha-male leading man, Nemo, in 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea, a snippet of monologue which serves a philosophical pretext: “ The sea is only the embodiment of a supernatural and wonderful existence. It is nothing but love and emotion; it is the Living Infinite.”
The sea and the moon represent the supernatural aspects of existence: the realm of escape and the mysteries of something infinite beyond the common, the profane Earth. Space, the heavens, was the infinite backdrop and the navigational means by which man—the elevated, illumined man—transcended the gravity of the earthly realm. By extension, both the sea and space represented, in the mind of Jules Verne, nothing less than his living infinite.
Viewed as a whole, Verne’s work could well be examined as a broad allegory containing the four mystical elements of air, fire, earth, and water—the esoteric/alchemical journey through matter and energy also seen in the journey of Freemasonry; the transcendence of the profane to the sacred. Indeed, it is in the characterization of Nemo (the one) that this embodiment is most concretized, as Nemo seeks even to command the sun: “Adieu, sun! Disappear, thou radiant orb! rest beneath this open sea, and let a night of six months spread its shadows over my new domains!”
Verne’s representations in words alluded to physical transcendence as a means to attain a spiritual realm. One which casts off limitations, breaks away from the gravity—the earthbound—in the best spirit of Kant’s transcendent idealism. One of the discernable themes in the work of Verne was his disdain for the static, the landlocked, and the limited. He embraced the notion of the Great Work as a life measure in his The Mysterious Island: “The desire to perform a work which will endure, which will survive him, is the origin of man's superiority over all other living creatures here below. It is this which has established his dominion, and this it is which justifies it, over all the world” (emphasis added).
The Iconic Symbols of Verne
Verne’s subtleties in expression of words found their complements in the iconic symbols which graced his works and, in this, Verne was very exacting, sending artwork back for endless revisions and often requiring the intervention of his publisher, Pierre-Jules Hetzel. Modern readers, especially of the English versions, of Verne’s work may not know that the original works were copiously illustrated by the house artists of Hetzel’s publishing firm. The Hetzels (father and son, Louis-Jules) were forerunners of the modern day publishing practice of content re-purposing , often repackaging Verne’s works in as many as three different formats, some being nearly equivalent to the modern day graphic novels, and often offered with shorter works in a serialized anthology format.
While much of the inner graphics of the Verne editions have been lost, many of the covers which graced the Collection Hetzel books are still in evidence and it is obvious that no expense was spared as the Hetzels capitalized on the markets for Christmas and New Years with gold-leaf color binding in grand octavo (large format) editions, which recombined both the two new (and contractually required) works of Verne with shorter works.
It is from among these editions that we glean some of the iconic signatures of Freemasonry. Researcher/author Philip Gardiner certainly makes the case for Verne’s as well as the Hetzels’ involvement in extolling the Masonic virtues through the allegories resplendent in the sum of Verne’s written legacy. The covers reveal Masonic symbolism, both obvious and subliminal, and truly qualify as persistent iconology—an iconology which migrated into the modern era in remarkable symmetry.
That Verne’s books appear to be absent any sexual connotations is largely the emblem of the era of Victorianism in which he lived.
Verne’s sublimated animus leaned toward the Masonic ideal of a more universal procreation as evidenced by the cover of From the Earth to the Moon (Figure 1), which bears the imagery of a phallic projectile (the masculine) launched toward the queen of the night—the female orb.
In abstract (Figure 2), the projectile also portrays the Masonic compass and square symbol with its diagonal juxtaposition to the title—another representation of the procreative elements of Freemasonry and an epigraph of the tantric merging of the male-female energies expressed in the new age hermaphroditic ideal.
This same iconic imagery reemerges in the logotype of NASA in 1958 (Figure 3). It requires little imagination to see the same abstraction in the rendering of the Masonic compass by that strange red glyph-like element.
A consistent symbolism emerges from, not just the cited Verne usage of the phallus- rocket (recall the earlier reference to the Columbiad, a cylindrical projectile used prominently by Verne in From the Earth to the Moon), but is an archetype of ancient origin. It is best seen in the common obelisks which dot the landscapes of the globe and are part of the lore of Tammuz and the cult of Semiramis , also found in the three Masonic monuments in London, Paris, and New York called Cleopatra’s Needle.
Were the symbolism of the cover of From the Earth to the Moon left to stand alone, we would be accused of projection, but examples abound, and we need to examine a few more to get the pattern. Herewith, the cover of a Hetzel grand octavo edition of The Mighty Orinoco(Le Superbe Orénoque)(Figure 4).
The devil, so to speak, is in the details of this ornate graphic, which is rich in symbolism beyond the scope of this present writing. A close-up of the lower right corner (Figure 5-highlighted detail)) reveals yet another Masonic compass and square, embedded in the graphic ornamentation. Note also the triangle formed by the chain/title plaque and inverted compass from the top of the sphere. Another example is the cover of another edition of Extraordinary Voyages/The Magnificent Orinoco. The symbolism here is less overt but its motif—divided into four horizontal segments—reveals, again, essential Verne themes in the panels of air, fire, earth, and water with the title in a fan-shaped cartouche . The lower one-fourth imparts a nautical theme anchored by a stylized navigator’s compass formed with a distinct caduceus. The snake/rope is the unifying thread and forms a continuum which terminates with the serpent head at the bottom center .
This utilizes dualistic imagery in its execution—a technique which is very deliberate in intent and subliminal in its presentation. The form of the montage has numerous Hermetic and Cabbalistic overtones in its rendering.
Closing the Loop
The 1958 film From the Earth to the Moon was a cinematic disappointment following on the heels of two superb productions: Disney’s 1954 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and MGM’s lavish 1956 adaptation of Around the World in 80 Days. In fact, it was the last movie produced by then-bankrupt RKO studios—at one time controlled by eccentric industrialist Howard Hughes. The film wound up being distributed by Warners. It is now little more than a footnote in film history but serves as bookmark to a period of transition in the American focus.
For me, it was a reminder to look more closely at Jules Verne and examine the body of work from a perspective I did not have forty years ago. We assign nobility to certain artists and forget that the seeds of dissimulation have been sown for many thousands of years into the cultural arc. Beloved though Verne may be, we now may examine the roots of his influences more carefully and see the patterns of cultural programming which course through the generations, certainly since the days of Francis Bacon and John Dees’ Rosicrucian designs.
Verne’s expressions of a technocratic worldview are woven into the subtexts of many of his works. The evidence presented in this work are threads for further examination. It would be difficult to ignore the most obvious parallels to the fictional work and the fulfillments:
The story bears similarities to the real-life Apollo program:
- Verne's cannon was named the Columbiad; the Apollo 11 command module was named Columbia.
- The spacecraft crew consisted of three persons in each case.
- The physical dimensions of the projectile are very close to the dimensions of the Apollo CSM.
- Verne's voyage blasted off from Florida, as did all Apollo missions. (Verne correctly states in the book that objects launch into space most easily if they are launched from the earth's equator. In the book, Florida and Texas compete for the launch, with Florida winning.)
Verne’s Masonic-Technocratic visions are still affirmed by the adoption of his works by Disney, whose founder, Walt Disney, was a 33rd degree Mason complicit in presenting occult material to the children of the last two generations. Disney has produced many works from the Verne catalog and continues to hold Verne as a touchstone into the new century.
It would appear the mask has been ripped off the beloved authors of yesteryears as films like the National Treasure series and The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, openly portray Masonic influences against a backdrop of adventure and heroism. Such films are not the revelation of the method, but another layer of obfuscation that distorts the mystical darkness which has guided most of humankind for thousands of years. The genuine understanding comes when we start to read the symbolisms embedded in the hallowed works of the classics and see what they really communicate.
