by Bob Curran
Mu and Other Legends
As occult interest in Lemuria grew, a number of other legends and theories concerning sunken lands became associated and, at times, intertwined with it. One of these was, naturally, the notion of Atlantis, but there were others, too—the most notable being the legend of Mu.
Mu was another sunken land, supposedly lying somewhere beneath the Pacific. It had first been mentioned by the writer and traveler Augustus Le Plongeon (1826–1908) who had made a journey to the Yucatan Peninsula in Mexico where he had investigated some very ancient Mayan ruins. Le Plongeon, who had been born on the island of Jersey, and who was also considered something of an amateur archaeologist, announced that as a result of these investigations, he had found the Mayan people to be far older than the Greeks or the Egyptians. He had also stated that they had originated on a continent that was now lost, and to which he gave the name Mu. Although no great scientific importance was attached to his “findings,” it was taken up by the British occultist James Churchward (1852–1936), who wrote a number of books, attempting to detail the history of the lost continent and attaching an occult significance to it. He had come across the information while traveling in India, where he had befriended an old priest who had shown him ancient parchments written in a dead language, which only a handful of people could understand (in fact, Churchward was to claim, that only three people in the entire Indian continent could translate it). The priest, who was one of these, taught him the language, and Churchward was able to translate the scrolls that revealed the history of Mu. The scrolls that had been copied from tablets composed by the Nacaal people—the forerunners of the Mayans—seemed to bear out Le Plongeon’s assertions and hinted at great mysteries known to this ancient civilization. However, the scrolls were an incomplete record, and there was more knowledge to be had from the actual tablets themselves. Although Churchward was to publish his “translations” in approximately three volumes (he may also have privately published some diaries), his work is regarded at best as not being serious archaeological data, and at worst as spurious and fanciful; much of it still remains in print today.
The idea of Mu, however, became strongly entwined with the idea and mythology of Lemuria, and at one time the two imagined sunken lands were almost interchangeable. Lemuria became the center of dark practices that had been carried out by ancient peoples who had fathered races from the Mayans to the ancient Egyptians, and who had passed down “primordial secrets” to certain acolytes.
Writings and Stories
Such notions excited many science-fiction and horror writers of the 1920s and 1930s. It is said that it is on Lemuria rather than Atlantis that the writer H.P. Lovecraft based his horrendous sunken city of R’yleh where dead Cthulhu lies dreaming. This, too, is said to lie somewhere under the Pacific Ocean. Lovecraft also interestingly mentions Blavatsky’s Book of Dyzan among the “nightmarish tomes” that were consulted by some of his protagonists. Another fantasy writer of the same period, Clark Ashton Smith, also set some of his stories concerning diabolism and Black Magic in Lemuria before it was “consumed by the seas.” The interest in Lemuria by such writers only served to contribute to its reputation as “a dark and shadowed place” and the original home of various dark arts and evil sorceries.
Another strand of mythology that may have influenced Madame Blavatsky was the Hindu legend of the sunken land of Rutas, or Rama, which was said to lie in the depths of the Indian Ocean. This came to prominence in the works of the French lawyer Louis Jacolliot (1837–1890), who claimed to have translated some ancient Hindu fragmentary tablets that spoke of the vanished landmass. Similar to Mu, this was also a place of great mystery and sorcery, and may have been destroyed by cataclysmic forces raised by the experiments of its own wizards. Although Jacolliot was largely discredited, Blavatsky may have fixed on this legend, which is still related in some Hindu folklore; she added a reference to Rutas in her book Isis Unveiled.
Madame Blavatsky also added a further layer to the speculation surrounding the sunken continent, which has provoked yet a further line of speculation concerning it. In her book The Secret Doctrine, she mentions that Lemuria was once inhabited by a reptilian race that was almost (but not quite) humanoid. These creatures were great sorcerers, and it was their experiments with dark and evil forces that eventually led to the destruction of their civilization on the continent. This has led to a line of thinking known as the reptilian conspiracy, a set of conspiracy theories promulgated by such figures as the UFOlogist and lecturer John Rhodes and the former presenter and Green Party spokesman David Icke. They claim that, according to a confidant of Diana, Princess of Wales, members of the British Royal Family are shapeshifting reptilian beings, and that George W. Bush may be of the same bloodline.
The notion of an ancient reptile race is, however, nothing new. Stories of human-like reptiles with supernatural powers appear in many ancient traditions. In India, they are referred to as the Nagas, and predate human beings on the planet, while a version of the apocryphal Book of Jasher speaks of a serpent race dwelling in the Middle East. The legendary founder and first king of the city of Athens, Cecrops I (the name means “tail in the face”) was supposedly half man, half lizard, and was allegedly “born out of the earth.” And of course in the book of Genesis, it is the serpent creature that tempts Eve. Perhaps significantly, the Mayan god Gurumatz is portrayed as an upright, plumed serpent, and is probably the forerunner of the Aztec god Quetzalcoatl. In the Yucatan Peninsula, he was worshipped as the deity Kulkucan. Some traditions assert that these serpent-like beings, who would later become gods among humans, derived from the lost continent of Lemuria and survived when it sank. Some legends—which fed the conspiracy theorists—stated that these being were malevolent and were continually seeking to overthrow Mankind, which had supplanted them on Earth. However, it is thought that Madame Blavatsky viewed such creatures as highly intelligent, and her references to the “serpent race” or “serpent men” in her work were simply metaphors for skill and wisdom.
The New Age of Lemuria
Madame Blavatsky was not the only person to speak to the Mahatmas about ancient Lemuria. She was the inspiration behind a grouping dedicated to spiritual living and developing esoteric mysteries, known as the Theosophical Society (which at one time included the Irish writer and poet William Butler Yeats), which promoted many of her ideals. One of these, W. Scott-Elliot, also claimed to have spoken to the Mahatmas through a process known as “clairvoyant transmission,” and in 1904 published works on both Atlantis and “lost Lemuria.” In these, he revealed the end of the mighty continent. It had not, he declared, been destroyed in a single day and night as had Atlantis, but rather had disintegrated over a period of time. This had been caused by great volcanic activity deep underground, which led to eruptions and earthquakes on the surface. Lemuria was therefore “eaten away” by explosions before it finally sank beneath the waves. While Madame Blavatsky’s “third root race” had been too slow-witted (and possibly too immoral) to escape, it is possible that some of the surviving serpent species (who still occupied portions of the continent) did, and this led to some serpent legends in the human world. Scott-Elliot’s theories and assertions were largely dismissed, even by other Theosophists. However, he had left behind a vision of a great continent, which had been slowly destroyed from within, and had inevitably perished. Such a potent metaphor would sometimes be used by political groups—for example, some right-wing factions—to describe both Britain and the United States during the period leading up to World War II.
From around the 1930s until the 1950s (and even into the 1960s) much of Europe and North America enjoyed something of a boom in fantasy fiction. The austerity of the Great Depression, followed by World War II and the economic hardships of its aftermath, left the public hungering for tales of wonderful and awe-inspiring lands packed with color and adventure. And, of course, Lemuria with its whispers of an advanced civilization, Black Magic, and malignant serpent men fit into this idea admirab
ly. Writers fixed on the idea of the sunken continent as it had been in its prime at the dawn of time. The works of H.P. Lovecraft and Clark Ashton Smith took on a new resonance, but other writers also came to the fore, such as Lyon Sprague de Camp (1907–2000), who sometimes mentioned the sunken land in their stories. Indeed, de Camp (always eager to debunk some of the pseudoscience and speculation of former years) went so far as to publish a book called Lost Continents in which he critically examined some of the popular myths and theories regarding places such as Atlantis, Lemuria, and Rutas. The book was updated in 1970 to take account of the geologist Alfred Wegener’s theory of continental drift, first set out in 1812, and later published in his book The Origin of Continents and Oceans in 1915, which is largely accepted today. Sprague de Camp’s book is still regarded as something of a classic of the genre.
But it was the fantasy writer Lin Carter (1930–1988) who firmly put ancient Lemuria on the map with his Thongor of Lemuria series. Written largely as a response to Robert E. Howard’s successful Conan the Barbarian stories, Carter made his hero Thongor, a warrior of the House of Valkh in the prehistoric civilization of Lemuria, a powerful, sword-swinging soldier who traveled across the primal continent fighting vicious foes and supernatural evil wherever he found it. Some of his most persistent and formidable enemies were the Dragon Kings that ruled a part of the landmass, and this is perhaps reflective of the idea of a reptilian race who had ruled Lemuria in earliest times. The series, which extended into a number of volumes, was incredibly successful and firmly placed the idea of the sunken continent in the public mind. It also helped to give rise to a genre of fantasy writing known as “sword and sorcery”—set in mythological landscapes filled with battling (often barbarian) heroes who face magic and monsters almost on a daily basis—which encouraged other authors to write in a similar vein. This genre is still popular today in a large number of computer games.
Lemuria, then, has come a long way from a speculation on the dispersal of lemurs in the mid-19th century to a 21st-century computer game theme. Whether or not it actually existed as a historical place is not the point, rather it is the influence on the popular imagination that the idea of a sunken Pacific continent has exerted that is important. And, in this case, the notion of Lemuria is as potent as if the land truly did lie deep under the ocean’s surface.
8
Lyonesse
Of all the sunken realms, perhaps the lost land of Lyonesse, submerged between the southwest tip of Cornwall, England, and the Isles of Scilly in the English Channel, has more historical evidence to back up its alleged existence than some others. Not only do we have some geological and emblematic evidence for its existence, but we also have at least a partial list of its kings. According to tradition, Lyonesse sank beneath the waves of what is now the English Channel somewhere around the middle of the 10th or 11th centuries. From all the towns and cities within its confines only one man survived—a gentleman by the name of Trevellyn who, leaping on a fast horse, outdistanced the waters and rode to what is now Cornwall, where he settled. The coat of arms of the Trevellyn family, which dates back to around this time, still depicts a rider on a horse emerging from the waves as a reminder of this event.
The History
The tradition of Lyonesse, however, stretches back before medieval times and quite possibly into Celtic times. Although it is generally now regarded as something of an extension of the Celtic Otherworld (similar to Avalon, with which it is sometimes confused), and has been incorporated into Arthurian mythology, there seems to be at least some historical evidence for a large landmass lying to the south of England.
The Isles of Scilly
That area is currently occupied by the Isles of Scilly—an archipelago of small, inhabited islands, most of which are the property of the British, administered through the Duchy of Cornwall. Though most of them are relatively small, accounts seem to suggest that in early times they may have been much bigger with a number of fairly substantial landmasses among them. The Romans, for example, know the region as Scillonia Insula—the sunny island, reflecting the balmy climate that is to be found there. It is possible, however, that there were one or two rather large islands with a scattering of smaller islets around them. If this is indeed the case, then the area corresponds to the Greek Cassiterides, or Tin Islands, in which Greeks and Phoenicians traded for one of the most valuable metals of the ancient world—tin. Indeed, so valuable was this commodity that Greek seamen and merchants based in the major trading port of Gades (Cadiz) in Northern Spain kept the location of this area a closely guarded secret. All that was disclosed was that they were a number of islands—including one or two major ones—that contained substantial tin mines, one or two large ports, and a number of towns and cities. According to this tradition, the largest of these islands was called Ennor, which had both a substantial settlement and a port from which tin could be shipped. The location of these islands (now the British Isles), which the Romans included as part of the Pretannic Isles, has since been lost. It has been suggested that what these ancient seafarers were referring to was a single, highly developed landmass that had the facilities for both trade and industry, perhaps slightly in advance of other parts of England. This, of course, may have nothing more than tall tales—the main industry on the Isles of Scilly is farming and agriculture, with little evidence of tin mining when compared to, say, neighboring Cornwall.
Other Island Accounts
This seems to be borne out by later Viking accounts of raids in the area—even into the ninth century. Accounts from the Norse oral tradition mention a large landmass with a rugged coastline and a number of small ports with a number of well-appointed farms, large monastic foundations, and possibly several towns. The inhabitants of this coastline were considered to be rather wealthy, and attacks on them yielded substantial amounts of cattle. However, it cannot be said with any certainty that this was a separate ancient kingdom that lay south of, and independent from, England.
Arthurian Legends
What is the legend and mythology surrounding Lyonesse, and how does it figure in the Arthurian tradition? The name of the country gives us little clue—it is generally taken to mean “Island of the Lion” (though who or what “the lion” might have been in an English Celtic culture is unclear). There is another Celtic tradition, however, that ascribes the name to a lady named Lyonesse, a cousin to King Arthur who was married to the knight Gareth of Orkney, one of Arthur’s warriors. It is said that Arthur granted her lands in the south of the country to which she gave her name. Other versions of the tale relate how a lady named Lynette came to Arthur’s court in order to gain aid for her sister Lyonesse who was queen of a far (or “foreign”) country far south of England. In both versions of the story, these lands had been besieged by the Red Knight of the Red Lands (described in certain versions as “Sir Ironside”), and she asked Arthur to send a champion to defeat him. Instead, Arthur gave her a stablehand who had the name Beaumains (it was secretly Gareth of Orkney, but the king had disguised him as a punishment because Lynette would not reveal her sister’s name). They set out, and on the way, they were attacked by several knights; during these conflicts Beaumains/Gareth distinguished himself with valour. They arrived at Lyonesse’s castle and the champion defeated the Red Knight, but was wounded in the combat. It was Lyonesse who nursed him back to health and with whom he fell in love. They traveled back to Arthur’s court to be married along with Lynette who married Gareth’s brother, Sir Gaheris. Lyonesse’s name, however, lived on in the name of the “southern land,” and it was to this kingdom that Arthur is said to have fled, gravely wounded, after the Battle of Camlann in order to await death. This has, of course, led to confusion in Arthurian legend between Lyonesse and Avalon, another location to which he was supposed to be taken in order to be healed. Further confusion is added by the British poet and writer Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809–1892), who states in his Arthurian work Idylls of the King (printed in 1885), that Camlann (Arthur’s final battle) was itsel
f fought in Lyonesse. He further recounts the tale of Lynette and Sir Gareth (albeit as an allegory of 19th century thinking), adding strength to this version of the legend.
In the early 12th century, the land of Lyonesse enters Arthurian mythology again. This probably derives from the poet Thomas of Britain, who is said to have composed a set of verses centered on the romantic hero and Knight of the Round Table, Sir Tristan, which were developed into a popular epic around the years 1155–1160. Thomas’s epic is, of course, the basis for the Arthurian tragedy of Tristan and Iseult, which had become something of a classic of medieval literature. In some later texts, Tristan is described as a “Cornish knight” who falls in love with the Irish princess Iseult, but in the original work his birthplace is given as the land of Lyonesse. In fact, Tristan is described as the son of Meliodas, the second king of the country and the grandson of St. Felig (Felec or Felix), the saint-king who was Lyonesse’s first ruler. It has been suggested that this idea arises not from a Cornish tradition, but rather from a Welsh one, and that much of what we know of Arthurian Lyonesse springs from Welsh legend and poetry. Certainly some of the supposed rulers of Lyonesse and their courtiers would appear to bear Welsh-sounding names.
