The Most Evil Secret Societies in History Read Online Free PDF Page B

watering-down of the national blood-lines caused by the introduction of non-Aryan elements. The Germanenorden enjoyed a hierarchical fraternal structure similar to that found in Freemasonry but unlike Freemasonry, the Germanenorden taught its disciples nationalist ideologies based on racial superiority, and most of the group’s literature had an anti-communist, anti-Semitic theme. Sebottendorff fitted in perfectly and soon established his own branch of the group which he named the Thule Society.
    Needing an emblem for his new group, Sebottendorff adopted the swastika as the true representation of everything he held dear. Originally the swastika had been an ancient Indian symbol of good luck as well as the traditional symbol of the Norse god of thunder, Thor. In the early twentieth century it had then been taken up by a German neo-pagan movement who named it the Hakenkreutz. Perhaps it was from them that Sebottendorff stole the idea – after all both groups promoted strong anti-Christian ideologies – but it wasn’t until a Thule Society member by the name of Friedrick Krohn suggested to Hitler that he adopt the swastika as his new political party’s emblem, that this now famous insignia grew to be one of the most feared and hated of all twentieth-century symbols.
    Thule was a mythical land (sometimes referred to as an island, sometimes believed to incorporate the lost city of Atlantis) in the most northerly regions of the ancient world, a dark, frozen, mysterious region that existed long before man had mapped the globe with any accuracy. The first mention of Thule appeared in the fourth century BC when a Greek explorer called Pytheas boasted of sailing from the warm regions of southern France to Britain and then onwards north for a period of approximately six days until he reached the land of Thule. Once there he reported that Thule’s inhabitants showed him where, on the shortest day of the year, the sun set and how, during the winter everywhere suffered long periods of darkness. But despite Pytheas’s account, ancient mapmakers were still baffled about the exact location of Thule, or if indeed it really existed at all. Britain, Iceland and different parts of Scandinavia were all possible locations, although Pliny the Elder seemed to prefer a less concrete interpretation of the place when he wrote that Thule was the ‘most remote of all those lands recorded’, a country where ‘there are no nights at midsummer when the sun is passing through the sign of the Crab, and on the other hand no days at midwinter, indeed some writers think this is the case for periods of six months at a time without a break.’ 3
    When the Romans first invaded Britain in 55 BC and traveled to the far north of the country, they sent back word that they had conquered Thule. Many travelers, writers and explorers all wrote reports and sent back messages to the effect that Thule existed, not least a group of early medieval Irish clerics who traveled to Iceland on retreat only to send back word that they had reached Thule. And yet one thing eluded everyone: absolute, unequivocal evidence that such a place existed, for not only could no one agree where precisely Thule lay, they couldn’t even settle on how it was spelt. Throughout history Thule’s name has changed drifted from one spelling to another as lazily as the changing of the tides: Thule, Thula, Thila, Tila, Thulé being just a small selection. And so it seemed nothing concrete or factual would ever become known about Thule. Instead it grew into an increasingly mysterious, mythical landscape; a place that hovered on the edge of the known world; a symbol of all that was unreachable and remote. Even in Victorian times, when reason might have suggested that Thule was nothing more than an ancient myth, the explorer Richard Burton included it in his notes. Famously, there is also a mention of Thule in Charlotte Brontë’s ever-popular novel, Jane