Lost Lands, Forgotten Realms

by Bob Curran

  The city of Agartha, according to some Theosophical teaching, was the survivor of a prehistoric war that had almost devastated the Earth. This war had been fought between Atlantis and Lemuria, and had used atomic weapons and other forces that are far beyond our understanding. It resulted in the complete destruction of both ancient continents. However, some colonies survived, one of which was Agartha, just under the Earth’s crust or in some remote Himalayan valley. Here, survivors dwelt; they were either the forerunners of the Masters or else the Masters themselves.

  The Nazi Regime

  Similar to some other Theosophist theories, stories of Shangri-La also attracted the attention of factions within the German Nazi regime. Taking up some of the confusions that existed within the various strands of Theosophy, the Nazis coupled legends of Shangri-La with those of another mythological site—the lost city of Agartha.

  Mixing the two strands of legend, Nazi occultists placed Shangri-La as a possible home for the Aryan race. Those who dwelt there, it was suggested, were not Asian people at all but tall, blonde, blue-eyed god-like humans who were considered by some to be the prototypes of the Master Race.

  So strong was the belief that there was something among the Himalayan peaks, that during the 1930s and early 1940s, the Nazis mounted no less than seven scientific expeditions to find it. The purpose of these was to find proof of a non-Buddhist Aryan peoples living in a remote valley, and also recover some of the technology that had been allegedly used in the Atlantis-Lemuria war, which might make Germany an invincible superpower. Several of the earliest expeditions in the 1930s were led by the German hunter and zoologist Ernst Schafer (1910–1992). In 1931, Schafer would lead an expedition into Tibet accompanied by the American explorer and naturalist Brooke Dolan. Dolan’s mission was to study rare flora and fauna, but Schafer’s was to look for traces of Shangri-La. He found nothing, and between 1934 and 1935, he returned to the Himalayas again, together with Dolan, for a second expedition. Again he returned with nothing concrete, simply several old hill stories. However, this prompted him to return again, this time at the head of a solo German expedition between 1938 and 1939. Again, he found nothing but was still convinced that there was something out there.

  Schafer’s enthusiasm and conviction prompted another Nazi explorer, the Austrian Heinrich Harrer (1912–2006) to mount his own expedition into northern Pakistan, again to search for the elusive kingdom. In 1939, at the outbreak of World War II, Harrer was captured and arrested by British Colonial forces operating out of Northern India in the Pakistani Nanga Parbat region. Nanga Parbat means “naked peak,” and was supposed to be the site of a very ancient lamasery, hidden away among the river gorges there. Harrer was convinced this was Shangri-La, but unfortunately before he could find the site, he was captured and taken to an internment camp in the Uttakhand Province in Northern India, along with another 1,000 “enemy aliens,” who were mostly civilians.

  In 1944, Harrer managed to escape in the company of another Austrian, Peter Aufschnaiter, and two Germans. Convinced that Shangri-La lay somewhere in what is now a region of Pakistan, he made his way back toward Nanga Parbat, but his way was blocked by British patrols, and both he and Aufschnaiter made their way instead to Tibet and the city of Lhasa. There, Harrer was to spend the next seven years, and during that time, befriended Tenzin Gyatso, the 14th (and present) Dalai Lama. The two remained friends until Harrer’s death. Although his book Seven Years in Tibet (later a film) was published after the Chinese formal annexation of the country in 1950, Harrer was never to find the elusive monastery that he sought, nor did any other Nazi expedition, including one acting on direct orders from Heinrich Himmler.

  Although the Nazis mounted the last serious (and heavily funded) expedition to find Shangri-La, there have been a number of others. Several American-led expeditions entered the province of Kham on the Chinese-Tibetan border during the 1970s. For several hundred years, Kham had maintained a certain degree of independence from both China and Tibet (although part of it encompassed an area of central Tibet), and it was said to be the location of several “mysterious cities.” None of the American expeditions were particularly well equipped or scientific, and it was little surprise that they did not find anything. The same result came about on a number of further, hastily arranged expeditions into parts of nearby Nepal. However, the name of Shangri-La continued to live on in folklore.

  Someone who was greatly taken with the legend was the president of the United States, Franklin D. Roosevelt. The president had often declared himself a fan of James Hilton’s writing and of Lost Horizon (both the book and the film), and actually named his summer retreat—now known as Camp David—Shangri-La. At a press conference, following an attack on Tokyo by U.S. military planes during World War II, Roosevelt jokingly stated that the aircraft had taken off from bases in Shangri-La, thus turning the legendary kingdom into a strategic U.S. outpost in the Far East. One newspaper actually took him at his word and printed that the planes had taken off from the aircraft carrier USS Shangri-La. Bizarrely, the mythical kingdom became a part of the United States Navy.

  Not only is the location of the actual realm something of a mystery, a certain element of controversy and speculation surrounds the film location of Hilton’s book. The cast was, apparently, sworn to secrecy, but the location is often given as the Ojai Valley in Ventura County, California, near Westlake Village and Palm Springs. This was the land of the Chumash Indians, who themselves were considered to be a rather mystical people. However, there were disputes that the film was not filmed there at all—no trace of the “lamasery” used in the film has ever been found at the Californian location—but rather, somewhere in Montana. Just as many arguments continue about this as they do about the existence of the lost realm.

  Throughout the years, the name “Shangri-La” has come to mean a place of rest, contemplation, and reflection. It is also strongly associated with tranquility and personal fulfillment. And perhaps, apart from the discovery of an actual place, that might be its lasting legacy. In this particular instance, the ideal might be much more important than any actual location.

  11

  The Kingdom of Prester John

  In the year 1165, a mysterious letter sent from the East caused something of a stir in Western Europe. Addressed to the Byzantine Emperor, Manuel I Comnensus (1143–1180), it was translated into a variety of languages and was circulated widely. The letter asked for urgent help; somewhere in Eastern Asia, there was an almost magical kingdom of Nestorian Christians, ruled over by a good and wise king who was a direct descendant of one of the Magi—the three Wise Men who had worshipped the infant Jesus. His name was Prester John. According to the letter, this mystical kingdom was under threat. Expansions among surrounding Muslim and Pagan peoples had led to frequent attacks on its borders, and Prester John himself had written personally to the emperor requesting his aid. Already a large force of Muslims were pressing down on his country, ready to attack; therefore, the Eastern king begged for help from the Christian West before he was overwhelmed.

  Who Was Prester John?

  No one knows what Manuel’s response was. As a ruler, he was extremely interested in extending his empire, and a link to another Christian monarch farther east would give him a toehold among the Muslims there; however, he was also extremely cautious. He certainly did not mount an army to offer the requested aid, but it is likely that he referred the matter to Pope Alexander III in Rome to see if he could help. Alexander was equally cautious and probably with good reason. Nobody had ever heard of this Prester John or of his kingdom. There had been no accounts of such a king from the merchants who had traveled eastward, and his realm seemed to trade with no recognized country. The letter might be no more than a hoax or, more dangerously, a trick designed to draw the Church into a protracted and bloody conflict against the Eastern Muslims, which might ultimately enable the latter to gain new territories in the West. Alexander had to be aware of the political ramifications of his decision.

/>   The fact that Prester John might be a Nestorian king may have also provoked papal caution. Nestorianism had grown out of Gnostic Christianity, and taught that Jesus was not one being but two: the human who had died on the cross and the Divine Logos, which had existed from before the foundation of the world. The baby to which Mary had given birth was the Son of Man, but not the Son of God. This theology had been condemned as heretical by the powerful First Council of Ephesus in A.D. 431. While recognized as Christians, the Nestorians (named after Nestorius, patriarch of Constantinople [386–451] who had first put the doctrine forward), were treated cautiously by mainstream Christians. However, many Nestorians had formed communities in the East, and some of their churches were thought to espouse teachings that might today be considered elements of early Buddhism. The pope may have been reluctant to offer aid to a king who, although a Christian, might not readily hold traditional Roman beliefs.

  According to some sources, Alexander did nothing at all, but in other traditions, he sent a letter expressing solidarity (but offering no assistance) to Prester John, using his own personal physician, Philip, as the envoy. Philip reputedly left for the East on September 27, 1177, and from then on vanishes from the pages of history. If he did go, it is unlikely that he returned. Prester John’s letter, however, continued to circulate among the courts of Europe and to generate interest and excitement.

  A Mystical Realm

  The country it described was incredibly wealthy. Here there were many mines that yielded abundant gold and precious stones; the climate was temperate and the land was watered by several rivers. Under Prester John’s beneficent rule, it had enjoyed years of peace and stability, and its populace was incredibly content and happy. There were also many wonders within its borders. There was said to be a pool within the royal courts where, if one were to drink the water, it would extend that individual’s lifespan by many hundreds of years. There were young women attending the monarch who were more than 200 years old! And there were exotic creatures and beings there too. For instance, part of the royal retinue was made up of men with horns in the center of their foreheads; there were creatures living in the royal forests that had three eyes and fish swimming in the rivers that had teeth made from pure gold. The county was also supposed to be the location of the legendary Gates of Alexander. Reference to these—also latterly known as the Iberian Gates—appear in a collection of writings dating from between the third and sixth centuries concerning the alleged exploits of Alexander the Great known as The Alexander Romance. These “gates” were mighty barriers, constructed by Alexander’s men and designed to keep out the barbarians from further east. Their location had been lost since before the first century, but they were believed to lie in the eastern Caucasus. Some have identified them with the Caspian Gates in Derbent, Russia, and others with the Pass of Daniel, or Danal, in Russian Georgia. Wherever they were, they were supposed to mark a kind of demarcation between East and West. In the letter to Manuel, they were identified as lying within the realm of Prester John. Here, too, was the “magnificent tomb of the Patriarch Thomas,” a figure who was identified with St. Thomas, one of Jesus’ disciples, who had supposedly gone east. The letter appeared to be a mixture of both Pagan fable and Christian myth. Much of it is undoubtedly medieval invention, which was probably inserted to the main text much later, but it created the idea of a magical and mystical kingdom far away in the East.

  Discovery

  Where was this kingdom located? Initially, at the time of the letter, the consensus was that it lay somewhere in India. The basis for this idea lay in another Christian legend. According to some traditions, a shadowy and mysterious figure known only as John the Presbyter, or John the Elder, had carried the Christian message to India where he seems to have disappeared in the early days of the Church. Little is known about this shadowy person, and in fact they reference him in only one fragmentary document—the text known as The Exposition of the Sayings of the Lord, a second century work attributed to Papias, bishop of Heiropolis in southwest Turkey. Even here, the reference is only a fleeting one. One of those who claimed to have met him was the teacher Ireneaus of Lyons, who claims that John the Presbyter was a friend of his own tutor, Polycarp of Smyma, but reveals little information about him. Attempts have subsequently been made to connect him with the Apostle John, the writer of the Gospel and other various documents, but the figure is too vague to attach any early Christian writing to it. However, tradition says that the Presbyter was instructed to carry the Gospel to the lands of the East, and so he set out for India where he may have founded a church or churches. No evidence has ever been found for John or his mission, and he left no writings or texts behind. Whether or not this mysterious Presbyter John was a king somewhere in India is unknown. An obscure reference to him does appear in an allegedly fragmentary work ascribed to an equally mysterious writer known as Peter of Syria, dating from about the second century. This describes him as a “patriarch,” but does not elaborate any further. Could Prester John then have been some sort of Church leader somewhere in the East, perhaps even in India?

  Crusades and Christians

  The mystery arose from an extraordinary and secretive meeting in 1122, when Pope Calistus II is recorded as having received a visit from an eastern patriarch named John who had come from a “land far away.” Nothing is known of this leader except that he was not wholly of the persuasion of the Roman Church, nor is anything known of the purpose of the meeting between the two men—it may well have been an attempt at a political alliance. If so, it came to nothing. No attempt was, however, made to link this mysterious patriarch to Prester John until 1145 when Bishop Otto of Friesing recorded in his Chronicals that Prester John was indeed John the Presbyter. Was the communication of 1165 a call for aid, promised by the pope at that meeting, or did it relate to something else? Scholars have been unable to ascertain its true nature.

  Although the famous letter continued to circulate, and was no doubt embellished throughout the late 1100s, nothing further was heard from this mysterious Christian king. However, in 1248, it received a surprising resurgence of interest.

  In that year, Crusader bishop of Acre, Jacques de Vitry, returned to the West with the welcome news that “King David of India,” the son or grandson of Prester John, was building an army to take on the forces of the Saracens and so defend Christianity. This was the time of the Fifth Crusade (1217–1221), preached by Pope Honorius III, and things were going badly for Christendom. In 1141, however, even better news reached the West—King David had defeated the powerful Moslem Khwarezmian Empire as well as the Seljuk Turks, and was planning to aid in the building of the Holy City of Jerusalem. However, de Vitry had made a mistake—“King David” was not the son of Prester John at all; he was not even a Christian. In fact, he was a Mongol warlord named Temujin, whose name would one day be infamous around the ancient world as Genghis Khan. His “kingdom” was no exotic Eastern realm, but instead, the harsh land of Steppes of Central Asia. Nor was he particularly well disposed to Western Christendom, although he did open a number of Eastern Christian shrines to pilgrims. The move to recognize Genghis Khan as a descendant of Prester John, however, was a political one. The fledgling Crusader states in the East were constantly under Muslim threat, and to ally Christendom with an emerging force such as the Mongol Empire might work to their advantage. The kingdom of Prester John then, became the center of the Asian Steppes.

  As the reign of Genghis Khan became ever more ruthless and bloody, and as the allegedly promised aid in the rebuilding of Jerusalem failed to materialize, the mantle of “son of Prester John” passed from Genghis’s shoulders to that of his foster-brother Toghrul, king of the Keraits, who the Chinese Jin Dynasty had named as the Wang Khan. Several medieval writers, such as William of Rubruck, speak of Toghrul as being “King John’s” brother and a ruler of a Kerait kingdom that had been defeated by Genghis Khan. He seemed well able to become the dynastic successor to Prester John. Toghrul’s reign proved no less violent than
that of his foster brother, and soon Christendom was distancing itself from the Mongol Empire as the possible kingdom and dynasty of the legendary Prester John. What is interesting, however, is that Toghrul was in fact a Nestorian Christian, and roughly correspondeds to some of the attributes accorded to Prester John.

  Political Presence

  By now the figure of “Prester John” was becoming something of a political one. Desperate to gain and maintain a presence in the turbulent East, the Western Church began to play up the idea of a brave Christian king, holding out against the encroaching forces of Islam and Paganism. And if the Mongol Empire was not the ideal template for a Christian kingdom and a potential ally in the East, there were others. The French Crusader historian Jean de Joinville (c. 1225–1317), for instance, mentions several Christian missions to a number of Tartar kings, none of which appear to have been very successful. Some of the Tartar leaders seemed just as bloodthirsty as the Mongols, hardly the descendants of a wise and beneficent Christian ruler. Further medieval texts concerning the region, such as The Travels of Sir John Mandeville compiled between 1357 and 1371, detail an attempt to find this king, all of which resulted in failure. Among the Asian races, Prester John remained as elusive as ever.