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Raping little roses

British social workers and the police knew that non-whites had been gang-raping pre-pubescent, pubescent and adolescent white girls and forcing them into prostitution. A decade went by, but due to an insane sense of ethnic sensitivity and community cohesion, the criminals went unprosecuted and the authorities let the horror continue for years.

We must devote our thoughts this day to think about the British criminals—or rather, the whole anti-white, liberal culture of the United Kingdom—that allowed the raping and the prostitution of the young girls in Rotherham.

Read the article at The Occidental Observer (here).

Categories
Ancient Rome Emperor Julian

Gibbon on Julian – 9

Edward-Gibbon

The History of the Decline and Fall
of the Roman Empire

Chapter XXII:

Julian Declared Emperor

Part III


Philosophy had instructed Julian to compare the advantages of action and retirement; but the elevation of his birth, and the accidents of his life, never allowed him the freedom of choice. He might perhaps sincerely have preferred the groves of the academy, and the society of Athens; but he was constrained, at first by the will, and afterwards by the injustice, of Constantius, to expose his person and fame to the dangers of Imperial greatness; and to make himself accountable to the world, and to posterity, for the happiness of millions.

Julian recollected with terror the observation of his master Plato, that the government of our flocks and herds is always committed to beings of a superior species; and that the conduct of nations requires and deserves the celestial powers of the gods or of the genii. From this principle he justly concluded, that the man who presumes to reign, should aspire to the perfection of the divine nature; that he should purify his soul from her mortal and terrestrial part; that he should extinguish his appetites, enlighten his understanding, regulate his passions, and subdue the wild beast, which, according to the lively metaphor of Aristotle, seldom fails to ascend the throne of a despot.

The throne of Julian, which the death of Constantius fixed on an independent basis, was the seat of reason, of virtue, and perhaps of vanity. He despised the honors, renounced the pleasures, and discharged with incessant diligence the duties, of his exalted station; and there were few among his subjects who would have consented to relieve him from the weight of the diadem, had they been obliged to submit their time and their actions to the rigorous laws which that philosophic emperor imposed on himself.

One of his most intimate friends, who had often shared the frugal simplicity of his table, has remarked, that his light and sparing diet (which was usually of the vegetable kind) left his mind and body always free and active, for the various and important business of an author, a pontiff, a magistrate, a general, and a prince. In one and the same day, he gave audience to several ambassadors, and wrote, or dictated, a great number of letters to his generals, his civil magistrates, his private friends, and the different cities of his dominions.

He listened to the memorials which had been received, considered the subject of the petitions, and signified his intentions more rapidly than they could betaken in short-hand by the diligence of his secretaries. He possessed such flexibility of thought, and such firmness of attention, that he could employ his hand to write, his ear to listen, and his voice to dictate; and pursue at once three several trains of ideas without hesitation, and without error.

While his ministers reposed, the prince flew with agility from one labor to another, and, after a hasty dinner, retired into his library, till the public business, which he had appointed for the evening, summoned him to interrupt the prosecution of his studies. The supper of the emperor was still less substantial than the former meal; his sleep was never clouded by the fumes of indigestion; and except in the short interval of a marriage, which was the effect of policy rather than love, the chaste Julian never shared his bed with a female companion.

He was soon awakened by the entrance of fresh secretaries, who had slept the preceding day; and his servants were obliged to wait alternately while their indefatigable master allowed himself scarcely any other refreshment than the change of occupation. The predecessors of Julian, his uncle, his brother, and his cousin, indulged their puerile taste for the games of the Circus, under the specious pretence of complying with the inclinations of the people; and they frequently remained the greatest part of the day as idle spectators, and as a part of the splendid spectacle, till the ordinary round of twenty-four races was completely finished.

On solemn festivals, Julian, who felt and professed an unfashionable dislike to these frivolous amusements, condescended to appear in the Circus; and after bestowing a careless glance at five or six of the races, he hastily withdrew with the impatience of a philosopher, who considered every moment as lost that was not devoted to the advantage of the public or the improvement of his own mind. By this avarice of time, he seemed to protract the short duration of his reign; and if the dates were less securely ascertained, we should refuse to believe, that only sixteen months elapsed between the death of Constantius and the departure of his successor for the Persian war.

The actions of Julian can only be preserved by the care of the historian; but the portion of his voluminous writings, which is still extant, remains as a monument of the application, as well as of the genius, of the emperor. The Misopogon, the Cæsars, several of his orations, and his elaborate work against the Christian religion, were composed in the long nights of the two winters, the former of which he passed at Constantinople, and the latter at Antioch.

The reformation of the Imperial court was one of the first and most necessary acts of the government of Julian. Soon after his entrance into the palace of Constantinople, he had occasion for the service of a barber. An officer, magnificently dressed, immediately presented himself. “It is a barber,” exclaimed the prince, with affected surprise, “that I want, and not a receiver-general of the finances.” He questioned the man concerning the profits of his employment and was informed, that besides a large salary, and some valuable perquisites, he enjoyed a daily allowance for twenty servants, and as many horses.

A thousand barbers, a thousand cup-bearers, a thousand cooks, were distributed in the several offices of luxury; and the number of eunuchs could be compared only with the insects of a summer’s day. The monarch who resigned to his subjects the superiority of merit and virtue, was distinguished by the oppressive magnificence of his dress, his table, his buildings, and his train. The stately palaces erected by Constantine and his sons, were decorated with many colored marbles, and ornaments of massy gold. The most exquisite dainties were procured, to gratify their pride, rather than their taste; birds of the most distant climates, fish from the most remote seas, fruits out of their natural season, winter roses, and summer snows.

The domestic crowd of the palace surpassed the expense of the legions; yet the smallest part of this costly multitude was subservient to the use, or even to the splendor, of the throne. The monarch was disgraced, and the people was injured, by the creation and sale of an infinite number of obscure, and even titular employments; and the most worthless of mankind might purchase the privilege of being maintained, without the necessity of labor, from the public revenue. The waste of an enormous household, the increase of fees and perquisites, which were soon claimed as a lawful debt, and the bribes which they extorted from those who feared their enmity, or solicited their favor, suddenly enriched these haughty menials.

They abused their fortune, without considering their past, or their future, condition; and their rapine and venality could be equalled only by the extravagance of their dissipations. Their silken robes were embroidered with gold, their tables were served with delicacy and profusion; the houses which they built for their own use, would have covered the farm of an ancient consul; and the most honorable citizens were obliged to dismount from their horses, and respectfully to salute a eunuch whom they met on the public highway.

The luxury of the palace excited the contempt and indignation of Julian, who usually slept on the ground, who yielded with reluctance to the indispensable calls of nature; and who placed his vanity, not in emulating, but in despising, the pomp of royalty. By the total extirpation of a mischief which was magnified even beyond its real extent, he was impatient to relieve the distress, and to appease the murmurs of the people; who support with less uneasiness the weight of taxes, if they are convinced that the fruits of their industry are appropriated to the service of the state. But in the execution of this salutary work, Julian is accused of proceeding with too much haste and inconsiderate severity.

By a single edict, he reduced the palace of Constantinople to an immense desert, and dismissed with ignominy the whole train of slaves and dependants, without providing any just, or at least benevolent, exceptions, for the age, the services, or the poverty, of the faithful domestics of the Imperial family. Such indeed was the temper of Julian, who seldom recollected the fundamental maxim of Aristotle, that true virtue is placed at an equal distance between the opposite vices.

The splendid and effeminate dress of the Asiatics, The curls and paint, the collars and bracelets, which had appeared so ridiculous in the person of Constantine, were consistently rejected by his philosophic successor. But with the fopperies, Julian affected to renounce the decencies of dress; and seemed to value himself for his neglect of the laws of cleanliness. In a satirical performance, which was designed for the public eye, the emperor descants with pleasure, and even with pride, on the length of his nails, and the inky blackness of his hands; protests, that although the greatest part of his body was covered with hair, the use of the razor was confined to his head alone; and celebrates, with visible complacency, the shaggy and populous beard, which he fondly cherished, after the example of the philosophers of Greece.

Had Julian consulted the simple dictates of reason, the first magistrate of the Romans would have scorned the affectation of Diogenes, as well as that of Darius. But the work of public reformation would have remained imperfect, if Julian had only corrected the abuses, without punishing the crimes, of his predecessor’s reign. “We are now delivered,” says he, in a familiar letter to one of his intimate friends, “we are now surprisingly delivered from the voracious jaws of the Hydra. I do not mean to apply the epithet to my brother Constantius.

He is no more; may the earth lie light on his head! But his artful and cruel favorites studied to deceive and exasperate a prince, whose natural mildness cannot be praised without some efforts of adulation. “It is not, however, my intention, that even those men should be oppressed: they are accused, and they shall enjoy the benefit of a fair and impartial trial.” To conduct this inquiry, Julian named six judges of the highest rank in the state and army; and as he wished to escape the reproach of condemning his personal enemies, he fixed this extraordinary tribunal at Chalcedon, on the Asiatic side of the Bosphorus; and transferred to the commissioners an absolute power to pronounce and execute their final sentence, without delay, and without appeal.

The office of president was exercised by the venerable præfect of the East, a second Sallust, whose virtues conciliated the esteem of Greek sophists, and of Christian bishops. He was assisted by the eloquent Mamertinus, one of the consuls elect, whose merit is loudly celebrated by the doubtful evidence of his own applause. But the civil wisdom of two magistrates was overbalanced by the ferocious violence of four generals, Nevitta, Agilo, Jovinus, and Arbetio. Arbetio, whom the public would have seen with less surprise at the bar than on the bench, was supposed to possess the secret of the commission; the armed and angry leaders of the Jovian and Herculian bands encompassed the tribunal; and the judges were alternately swayed by the laws of justice, and by the clamors of faction.

The chamberlain Eusebius, who had so long abused the favor of Constantius, expiated, by an ignominious death, the insolence, the corruption, and cruelty of his servile reign. The executions of Paul and Apodemius (the former of whom was burnt alive) were accepted as an inadequate atonement by the widows and orphans of so many hundred Romans, whom those legal tyrants had betrayed and murdered. But justice herself (if we may use the pathetic expression of Ammianus ) appeared to weep over the fate of Ursulus, the treasurer of the empire; and his blood accused the ingratitude of Julian, whose distress had been seasonably relieved by the intrepid liberality of that honest minister.

The rage of the soldiers, whom he had provoked by his indiscretion, was the cause and the excuse of his death; and the emperor, deeply wounded by his own reproaches and those of the public, offered some consolation to the family of Ursulus, by the restitution of his confiscated fortunes. Before the end of the year in which they had been adorned with the ensigns of the prefecture and consulship, Taurus and Florentius were reduced to implore the clemency of the inexorable tribunal of Chalcedon.

The former was banished to Vercellæ in Italy, and a sentence of death was pronounced against the latter. A wise prince should have rewarded the crime of Taurus: the faithful minister, when he was no longer able to oppose the progress of a rebel, had taken refuge in the court of his benefactor and his lawful sovereign. But the guilt of Florentius justified the severity of the judges; and his escape served to display the magnanimity of Julian, who nobly checked the interested diligence of an informer, and refused to learn what place concealed the wretched fugitive from his just resentment.

Some months after the tribunal of Chalcedon had been dissolved, the prætorian vicegerent of Africa, the notary Gaudentius, and Artemius duke of Egypt, were executed at Antioch. Artemius had reigned the cruel and corrupt tyrant of a great province; Gaudentius had long practised the arts of calumny against the innocent, the virtuous, and even the person of Julian himself.

Yet the circumstances of their trial and condemnation were so unskillfully managed, that these wicked men obtained, in the public opinion, the glory of suffering for the obstinate loyalty with which they had supported the cause of Constantius. The rest of his servants were protected by a general act of oblivion; and they were left to enjoy with impunity the bribes which they had accepted, either to defend the oppressed, or to oppress the friendless.

This measure, which, on the soundest principles of policy, may deserve our approbation, was executed in a manner which seemed to degrade the majesty of the throne. Julian was tormented by the importunities of a multitude, particularly of Egyptians, who loudly redemanded the gifts which they had imprudently or illegally bestowed; he foresaw the endless prosecution of vexatious suits; and he engaged a promise, which ought always to have been sacred, that if they would repair to Chalcedon, he would meet them in person, to hear and determine their complaints.

But as soon as they were landed, he issued an absolute order, which prohibited the watermen from transporting any Egyptian to Constantinople; and thus detained his disappointed clients on the Asiatic shore till, their patience and money being utterly exhausted, they were obliged to return with indignant murmurs to their native country.

Categories
Yearling (novel)

The Yearling, 8

Flag was bored with the inactivity and wandered away. He was becoming bolder and was sometimes gone in the scrub for an hour or so. There was no holding him in the shed. He had learned to kick down the loose board walls. Ma Baxter expressed the belief, only because it was her hope, that the fawn was going wild and would eventually disappear. Jody was no longer even troubled by the remark.

Chechar’s note: But the fawn did something that he was not supposed to do.

Jody said, “He didn’t know what he was doin’.”

“I know, Jody, but the harm’s as bad to the ‘taters as if he done it for meanness. We got scarcely enough rations now to do the year.”

“Then I’ll not eat no ‘taters, and make it up.”

“Nobody wants you should do without ‘taters. You jest got to keep track o’ that scaper. If you keep him, it’s your place to see he don’t do no damage.”

“I couldn’t watch him and grind corn, all two.”

“Then keep him tied good in the shed when you cain’t watch him.”

“He hates that ol’ dark shed.”

“Then pen him.”

Jody rose before day the next morning and began work on a pen in the corner of the yard. He studied its position with an eye to using the fence for two corners of the pen, and to having it where he could see Flag from most of his own work-spots, the millstone, the wood-pile and the barn lot in particular. Flag would be content, he knew, if he was in sight of him. He finished the pen in the evening, when his chores were done. The next day he untied Flag from the shed and lifted him into the pen, kicking and struggling. Flag was over the bars and out and at his heels again before he reached the house. Penny found him again in tears.

Further ahead in the story:

Jody rolled over on his side and stretched one arm across Flag. The fawn lay asleep, his legs tucked under his stomach, like a calf. His white tail twitched in his sleep. Ma Baxter did not mind his being in the house in the evening, after supper.

principito con banderin

The wolves had invaded the lot and killed the heifer calf. A band of them, three dozen or more, milled about the enclosure. Their eyes caught the light in pairs, like corrupt pools of shining water.

“Now this be the kind o’ time a man needs a snort,” he said. “I shore aim to beg a quart offen the Forresters tomorrer.”

“You goin’ there tomorrer?”

“I got to have he’p. My dogs is all right, but a big woman and a leetle man and a yearlin’ boy is no match for that many hongry wolves huntin’ in a pack.”

And next morning…

Penny was back in time for dinner. He had eaten little breakfast and was hungry. He would not talk until he had eaten his fill. He lit his pipe and tilted back his chair. Ma Baxter washed the dishes and brushed out the floor with the palmetto sweep.

“All right,” Penny said, “I’ll tell you jest how it stand. Hit’s like I figgered, the wolves was about the worst destroyed by the plague of ary o’ the creeturs.”

“That’s it. I had me a good go-round with them jessies. We cain’t see it the same way about killin’ ’em. I want a couple o’ good hunts, and traps around our lot and their corral. But the Forresters is bent on pizenin’ ’em. Now I ain’t never pizened a creetur and I don’t aim to.”

Ma Baxter flung her dishcloth at the wall.

“Ezra Baxter, if your heart was to be cut out, hit’d not be meat. Hit’d be purely butter. You’re a plague-taked ninny, that’s what you be. Leave them wild things kill our stock cold-blooded, and us starve to death. But no, you’re too tender to give ’em a belly-ache.”

He sighed.

“Do seem foolish, don’t it? I jest cain’t he’p it. Anyways, innocent things is likely to git the pizen. Dogs and sich.”

“Better that, than the wolves clean us out.”

“Oh now Ory, they ain’t goin’ to clean us out. They ain’t like to bother Trixie nor Cæsar [the horse]. I mis-doubt could they git their teeth through their old hides. They shore ain’t goin’ to mess up with dogs that fights as good as mine. They ain’t goin’ to climb trees and ketch the chickens. They’s nary other thing here to bother, now the calf’s gone.”

“There’s Flag, Pa.”

It seemed to Jody that for once his father was wrong.

“Pizen’s no worse’n them tearin’ up the calf, Pa.”

“Tearin’ up the calf was nature. They was hongry. Pizen jest someway ain’t natural. Tain’t fair fightin’.”

Ma Baxter said, “Hit takes you to want to fight fair with a wolf, you–”

“Go ahead, Ory. Ease yourself and say it.”

“If I was to say it, hit’d take words I don’t scarcely know to think, let alone speak.”

“Then bust with it, wife. Pizenin’s a thing I jest won’t be a party to.”

He puffed on his pipe.

“If it’ll make you feel better,” he said, “the Forresters said worse’n you. I knowed they’d mock me in the head when I takened my stand, and they done so. And they’re fixin’ to go right ahead and set out the pizen.”

“I’m proud there’s men some’eres around.”

Jody glowered at both of them. His father was wrong, he thought, but his mother was unfair. Something in his father towered over the Forresters. The fact that this time the Forresters would not listen to him, must mean, not that he was not a man, but that he was mistaken. Perhaps, even, he was not wrong.

The passage shows that Jody’s father did have a higher degree of fairness and empathy toward the wild animals than his rude neighbors.

The Forrester poisoning killed thirty wolves in one week.

A fire was crackling on the kitchen hearth. His mother was placing a pan of biscuits in the Dutch oven. She had an old hunting coat of Penny’s over her long flannel nightgown. Her gray hair hung in braids over her shoulders. He went to her and smelled of her and rubbed his nose against her flannel breast. She felt big and warm and soft and he slipped his hands under the back of the coat to warm them. She tolerated him a moment, then pushed him away.

“I never had no hunter act like sich a baby,” she said. “You’ll be late for the meetin’ if breakfast’s late.”

Jody went with the adults to hunt those wolves that didn’t fall in the trap. The boy had to scare them by shooting and drive them towards the real hunters. Since he had done that alone, “Jody was white.”

Work was light and Jody spent long hours with Flag. The fawn was growing fast. His legs were long and spindling. Jody discovered one day that his light spots, the emblem of deer infancy, had disappeared. He examined the smooth hard head at once for signs of horns. Penny saw him at it and was obliged to laugh at him.

“You shore expect wonders, boy. He’ll be butt-headed ’til summer. He’ll not have no horns ’til he’s a yearlin’. Then they’ll be leetle ol’ spiky ones.”

Jody knew a content that filled him with a warm and lazy wonder. Even Oliver Hutto’s desertion and the Forresters’ withdrawal were distant ills that scarcely concerned him. Almost every day he took his gun and shot-bag and went to the woods with Flag. The black-jack oaks were no longer red but a rich brown. There was frost every morning. It made the scrub glitter like a forest full of Christmas trees. It reminded him that Christmas was not far away.

Categories
Christendom Conservatism Videos

Heimbach

“I hate Hitler” —Matt Heimbach

At the recent Council of Conservative Citizens Matt Heimbach talked about “Christian principles,” the impossibility to expel “a hundred million of non-whites” from the US either using “nuclear weapons or neutron bombs” and that “that’s not desirable either—as a Christian… we identitarians… our faith in Jesus Christ…”

In spite of all that, since Heimbach seems to put race first he may be considered in my category of “Christians that I do respect.” However, at Occidental Dissent an apparently non-Christian commenter opined about his speech:

Heimbach seems to think we can achieve this peacefully. Yeah, that’s a nice pipe dream.

Secession caused a war, as well as the German racial ethnostate. We lost both times, and that more than anything has defined our current situation.

Minus the system failing or some kind of worldwide cataclysmic event, I don’t see much hope on the horizon, unfortunately.

He seems to want to partition the US instead of conquering it and removing all non-Whites, because that’s not feasible and it’s too violent. Well how the hell does he think even partitioning and removing non-Whites that live in the area he wants is going to happen?

We face violent opposition even at the local level, Heimbach knows this himself. Even having a civil discussion with these people is difficult. How many times are these types of conferences cancelled because the location was threatened and bullied into refusing the event.

Later on the same thread, a Christian commenter added:

Matthew Heimbach proposes a quaint and peaceful ethno-state for white people somewhere within the confines of the north American continent. Nothing the Federal government could not crush in less than a week. Unless there is some kind of “Fight Club” permeating every level of our government, you are really asking for a genocide. No, Dorothy, you can’t click your heels three times and get back to Kansas. I am still amazed that Southerners like Matt just don’t get how foolish his proposition is.

However, I did like his comment that the solution to 1984 is the Spain of 1936. Unfortunately, we are living in 2013 Amerika. The scales have been tipped too far to the left. The cult of equality has blinded the well-meaning. We have been sucker-punched and will have to stand trial for defending ourselves like George Zimmerman.

It is a shame if Matt “hates Hitler”. Either his emotion has gotten the better of him or he is pandering to the left. Never hate, especially that which you do not know. If he ever studied the man Hitler, he would not “hate” him but he might learn something from him.

I would recommend Heimbach to read the articles under the heading “On the need to undemonize Hitler” at the sidebar of this blog.

Categories
Friedrich Nietzsche Psychology Stefan Zweig

Apologia for illness

That which does not kill me
strengthens me.

der_kampf_mit_dem_daemon

Nietzsche’s body was afflicted with so many and varied tribulations that in the end he could with perfect truth declare: “At every age of my life, suffering, monstrous suffering, was my lot.” Headaches so ferocious that all he could do was to collapse onto a couch and groan in agony, stomach troubles culminating in cramps when he would vomit blood, migrainous conditions of every sort, fevers, loss of appetite, exhaustion, hæmorrhoids, intestinal stasis, rigors, night-sweats—a gruesome enumeration, indeed. In all his correspondence there are barely a dozen letters in which a groan or a cry of lamentation does not go up from every page.

A time came when his vocabulary of superlatives was exhausted, and he found no words to describe his anguish. The rack called forth monotonous cries, repeated with increasingly rapidity and becoming less and less human. They reach our ears from the depths of what he described as “a dog’s life.” Then, suddenly, like lighting in a clear sky—and none of us can fail to be taken aback by so unprecedented a contradiction—he announced in his Ecce Homo: “Summa, summarum, I have enjoyed good health” (he is referring to the fifteen years which preceded his mental death)—a fine expression of faith, strong, proud, clear-cut, seeming to tax with falsehood the groans of despair that had gone before. Which are we to believe, the cries of distress or the lapidary aphorism?

His vitality was less resistant during rainy and overcast weather: “grey skies make me feel horribly depressed”; heavy clouds disturbed him “to the very inwards”; “rain takes all the strength out of me”; dampness enfeebled, drought renewed his vigor, the sun brought him to life again, winter was for him a kind of “lockjaw” and filled his mind with thoughts of imminent death. The fluctuations of his nerve-barometer were like those of April weather, rushing from one extreme to another, “he triumphed and he saddened with all weather.” What he needed was a serene, a cloudless landscape, high up on a plateau of the Engadine, where no wind came to disturb the peace and calm. In this livest of thinkers, body and mind were so intimately wedded to atmospheric phenomena that for him interior and exterior happenings were identical.

Soon, however, the “dry” climate of Nice lured him south again, and after staying there for a while he went to Genoa and Venice. Now he longed for the woodlands, then he craved for the sea; again he wished to live on the shores of a lake, or in some quiet and little town where he could procure “simple but nourishing food.”

I wonder how many thousands of kilometers Nietzsche traveled in quest of the fairyland where his nerves might find repose. He pondered over huge works on geology, hoping to find the exact place where he might win repose of body and tranquility of mind. Distance was no obstacle to its attainment: he planned a journey to Barcelona, and voyages to the mountains of Mexico, to Argentina, to Japan. Notes were made on the temperature and the atmospheric pressure at each place he selected; the local rainfall was scheduled to the uttermost exactitude.

As soon as his mind had ceased to pity his body, no longer participated in its sufferings, he recognized that his life had acquired a new perspective and his illness a deeper significance. Consciously, well knowing what he was about, he now accepted the burden, accepted his fate as a necessity, and since he was a fanatical “advocate for life,” loving the whole of his existence, he accepted his sufferings with the “Yes” of his Zarathustra and, as accompaniment to his tortures, sang the jubilant hymn “again and yet again for all eternity!”

He discovered (with the joy he invariably felt in the magic of the extremes) that he owed to no earthly power so much as to his illness, that, indeed, it was his tortures that he had to thank for his greatest blessing. “Illness itself frees me,” he wrote; illness was the midwife that brought his inner man into the world, and the pains he experienced were labor pains. Henceforward the tortured poet-philosopher sang a pæan of gratitude to “holy suffering,” recognizing that through suffering alone can man attain to knowledge. “Great suffering is the ultimate liberator of the mind, it alone constrains us to plunge into our innermost depths,” and he who has suffered “even unto the agony of death” has the right to pronounce the words: “I know life better because I have so often been on the verge of losing it.” It was out of torment, it was when he was upon the rack, that he formulated his creed.

Like all those possessed by the daimon, he was a slave to his own ecstasy. Health! Health! This was the device inscribed upon his banner. Health was the standard of every value, the aim of life, the meaning of the universe. After ten years of groping in the dark, suffocating with torments, he quelled his groans so as to intone a hymn of praise in honour of vitality, of brute force, of power-intoxicated strength.

In Ecce Homo he boasted of his unfailing health, denied that he had ever been ill; and yet this book was penned on the eve of his mental breakdown. His pæan was not sung to life triumphant but, alas, to his own death. No longer are we listening to the ideas of a scientifically trained mind but to the incoherent words of the daimon which had taken possession of its victim. The euphoria of this penultimate phase is a well-known symptom preceding the final collapse.

Ideas flowed from him like a cascade of fire, his tongue spoke with a primitive eloquence, music invaded every nook and cranny of his being. Withersoever he looked, he saw the reign of peace. Passers-by smiled at him as he roamed the streets. Every letter he wrote conveyed a divine message, glowed with happiness. In the last letter he was fated to write, he said to Peter Gast: “Sing me a new song: the world is transfigured and the heavens rejoice.” Out of the same heavens came the bolt which laid him low, mingling in an indissoluble interval of time every suffering and every beatitude.

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Quotable quotes

The first commandment

The ethnostate must teach that the highest form of Wisdom consists in keeping one’s blood pure. The first commandment of the new law-table is “Thou shalt keep thy blood pure”. Another commandment must dictate the necessity of not enslaving non-whites.

—Joseph Walsh

Categories
Ancient Greece Ancient Rome Blacks Egypt Miscegenation Philosophy of history Racial studies

March of the Titans (prologue)

Excerpted from the prologue of March of the Titans: The Complete History of the White Race by Arthur Kemp:


When reviewing the historical development of all nations, quite often mention is made of a “rise and fall” of a particular civilization. This poses a major question: Why have some civilizations lasted a thousand years or more, while others rise and collapse within a few hundred? Why is it, for example, that nations such as Japan, Sweden, and England—all nations with limited natural resources—could have progressive active cultures for more than one thousand years; whereas mighty civilizations such as Classical Rome, Greece, or Persia, amongst others, collapse after only a few centuries?

Politically correct historians blame the rise and fall of the great nations of the past on politics, economics, morals, lawlessness, debt, environment, and a host of other superficial reasons. However, Japan, England, and Sweden have gone through similar crises scores of times, without those countries falling into decay. It is obvious that there must be some other factor at work—something much more fundamental than just variations in politics, morals, lawlessness, or any of the other hundreds of reasons that historians have manufactured in their attempts to explain the collapse of civilizations.

Originally created by Proto-Nordics, Alpines, and Mediterraneans, and then influenced by waves of Indo-European invaders, the white civilizations in the Middle East all flourished, producing the wonders of the ancient world. These regions were either invaded or otherwise occupied (through the use of laborers, immigration, or in rare cases, by conquest) by nonwhite nations of varying races. When the original white peoples who created those civilizations vanished or became an insignificant minority (through death and absorption into other races), their civilizations “fell” in exactly the same way that the Amerind civilization in North America “fell.”

500 BC—First Turning Point

It was around the year 500 BC that the first great turning point in white history was reached. This was the decline of the first great white civilizations in the Middle East and their subsequent replacement by nations and peoples of a substantially different racial makeup.

Up until this time the development of the white race’s territorial expansion was such that they were a majority in Europe and all of Russia west of the Urals. They formed a significant component of the population of the Middle East and their rule extended into the Indus River Valley in Northern India.

In India, the invading Indo-Aryans established a strict segregation system to keep themselves separate from the local dark skinned native population. This system was so strict that it has lasted to this day and has become known as the caste system.

However, even the strictest segregation (and Aryan laws prescribing punishments such as death for miscegenation) did not prevent the majority population from eventually swallowing up the ruling Aryans until the situation has been reached today where only a very few high caste Brahmin Indians could still pass as Europeans.

Exactly the same thing happened in Central Asia, Egypt, Sumeria, and to a lesser degree, modern Turkey. Slowly but surely, as these civilizations relied more and more on others to do their work for them, or were physically conquered by other races, their population makeup became darker and darker.

Miscegenation with Nonwhite Slaves Caused Egyptian Decline

From the time of the Old Kingdom, the original white Egyptians had been using Nubians, blacks, and Semites (or Arabs) to work on many of their building projects or as general slaves.

three-phases-egypt

Egypt: Same country, different people. Above left: The white pharaoh, Queen Nefertiti, circa 1350 BC; Above center: The effects of racial mixing are clearly to be seen on the face of this coffin portrait of a Roman lady in Hawara, Egypt, 100 AD; Above right: The mixed race Egyptian, Anwar Sadat, president of Egypt in the twentieth century. Nefertiti ruled over an advanced civilization; Sadat ruled over a third world country. The reason for the difference in cultures between Nefertiti’s Egypt and Sadat’s Egypt was that the Egyptian people had changed.


At various stages the pharaohs also employed Nubian mercenaries, and ultimately Nubia and Sudan were physically occupied and incorporated into the Egyptian empire. Although the buildings of ancient Egypt are very impressive—many having survived through to the present day, their construction was dependent on the Egyptian ability to organize an unprecedented mass of human labor.

Several attempts were made to prevent large numbers of Nubians from settling in Egypt. One of the first recorded racial separation laws was inscribed on a stone on the banks of the southern Nile which forbade Nubians from proceeding north of that point. Nonetheless, the continuous use of Nubians for labor eventually led to the establishment of a large resident nonwhite population in Egypt, with their numbers being augmented by natural reproduction and continued immigration.

The region was also occupied for two hundred years by the Semitic Hyksos, who intermarried with the local population, and this was followed by other Semitic/Arabic immigration, fueled by the long existing black settlement on the southernmost reaches of the Nile River.

Once again the factors which led to the extinction of the Aryans in India came into play in Egypt: a resident nonwhite population to do the labor, a natural increase in nonwhite numbers, physical integration, and a decline in the original white birthrate.

All these factors compounded to produce an Egyptian population makeup of today that is very different from the men and women who founded Egypt and designed the pyramids.

As the population makeup shifted, so the cultural manifestations, or civilization, of that region changed to the point where the present day population of the Middle East is not by any stretch of the imagination classifiable as white. The Egyptians of today are a completely different people, racially and culturally, living amongst the ruins of another race’s civilization.

Identical Reasons for Decline in Middle East

The decline and eventual extinction of the white population in the Middle East marked the end of the original civilizations in those regions. In all the Middle Eastern countries the Semitic (Arabic) and black populations grew as they were used as labor by the ruling whites. In the case of Sumer, the white rulers were physically displaced by military conquest at the hands of Semitic invaders.

This process continued until almost all remains of the original whites in the greater region were assimilated into the darker populations. Only the occasional appearance of light colored hair or eyes amongst today’s Iraqis, Iranians, Syrians, and Palestinians serve as reminders of the original rulers of these territories.

Lesson—Role of Racially Foreign Labor in the Decline of a Civilization

The lesson is clear: a civilization will remain intact as long as its creating race remains in existence. This applies to all races equally—white, black, Mongolian or any other. As long as a civilization’s founding race maintains its territorial integrity and does not use large numbers of any other alien race to do its labor, that civilization will remain in existence.

If a civilization allows large numbers of racial aliens into its midst (most often as laborers) and then integrates with those newcomers, that civilization will change to reflect the new racial makeup of the population.

Any civilization—be it white, black, Asian, or Aboriginal—stands or falls by the homogeneity of its population, and nothing else. As soon as a society loses its homogeneity, the nature of that society changes. This simple fact, often ignored by historians, provides the key to understanding the rise and fall of all civilizations.

slaves-egypt-greece

Evidence of black slaves in Egyptian and Grecian society. Left: Nubian (African) slaves as depicted in ancient Egyptian art, and right two Greek vases, dating from the fifth century BC, show the racial types of two slaves, a Semite and a black.


History Is a Function of Race

The early white civilizations in Greece and Rome also fell to this process. The last great Grecian leader, Pericles, actually enacted a law in the year 451 BC limiting citizenship of the state according to racial descent. However, some four hundred years later this law was changed as the population shifts had become more and more evident. Certain Roman leaders tried to turn back the racial clock, but their efforts were in vain. The sheer vastness of the Roman Empire meant that all sorts of races were included in its borders, and this brew ultimately led to the dissolution of the original Roman population.

Those who occupy a territory determine the nature of the society in that territory. This is an immutable law of nature. It is the iron rule upon which all of human endeavour is built—that history is a function of race.

The Rise and Fall of Civilizations Explained

A civilization “rises and falls” by its racial homogeneity and nothing else. As long as it maintains its racial homogeneity, it will last—if it loses its racial homogeneity, and changes its racial makeup, it will “fall” or be replaced by a new culture.

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Note: Why I am reposting this entry is explained: here

Categories
Friedrich Nietzsche Pseudoscience Psychiatry Richard Wagner Stefan Zweig

A response to Kurwenal

Or:

Why am I reproducing excerpts of Zweig’s book?



In the other thread Kurwenal asked me:

Would it not be more enriching to find out why Rosenberg considered Nietzsche to be one of us rather than to discuss which Jewish author gives a more or less faithful account of Nietzsche’s life and theories.

I see your point, and let me say that this blog has paid due homage to Nietzsche in that sense. See these entries:

• “Atheist scum”

• “Quotable quote”

• “Nietzsche on the Aryan race”

• “Nietzsche on the institution of marriage”

Kurwenal again:

By the way, if you can spare one hour of your time, I have tried to summarize the importance of Wagner and Nietzsche for our cause [links to Counter-Currents added].

I am a huge fan of Richard Wagner too. A couple of days ago for example I had to do some driving in Mexico City and the only way I could protect my mind from the nasty surroundings was precisely by listening the complete Second Act of Parsifal. It worked! I didn’t feel so depressed even when navigating in a sea of non-white troglodytes.

But there’s something more as to why I am excerpting Zweig, and it is so important that I will promote this response as a separate blog entry.

The reason that many years ago I read Zweig’s book and Ross’ and Janz’s biographies of Nietzsche has nothing to do with the discussion in this thread. It has to do with my quest about why Nietzsche, and many other people, lost their minds.

Before arriving to the nationalist camp my field of interest was advancing a counter-hypothesis to the medical model of mental disorders, insofar as I believe that biological psychiatry is a pseudoscience. That’s what, originally, moved me to read thick volumes originally written in German about Nietzsche’s life.

One of my dreams is that, if an ethno-state is formed in North America, their architects will do tabula rasa on the fraudulent professions of mental health (a “therapeutic state” as some critics of psychiatry say). White people will have to rediscover a field of research that the current System started to bury since the late 1970s, and especially in the 80s and 90s. Presently very few remember the trauma model of mental disorders (I started a Wikipedia article under that title). And my big hope is that this model, which unlike biopsychiatry is not unscientific, will be considered very seriously in the new white nation.

The gist of this model is that biographical narrative is pivotal to understand the personal tragedies that drive some people mad. That is the reason why I am adding chapter excerpts of Zweig’s The Struggle with the Daimon. It has nothing to do with a desire to pathologize Nietzsche. As you can see in my linked posts above, he obviously had great insights on important subjects. But we also got to understand why some people with perfectly healthy brains suffer permanent psychotic breakdowns.

This is a “software” problem of the human mind, not a “hardware” problem as the current System wants us to believe. (See my book Hojas Susurrantes for a full explanation of it.)

Kikes

juden!

Categories
Friedrich Nietzsche Stefan Zweig

Twofold portrait

der_kampf_mit_dem_daemon

To obtain a real likeness of the man, we need to see him in his actual surroundings. What were they? A dinning-room in some modest boarding-house, quarters in an equally modest hotel among the Swiss mountains or on the Italian Riviera; insignificant fellow-boarders, for the most part elderly females, experts in small talk.

Quietly and even timidly he sought the place reserved to him at the table, and he remained shrouded in an uncanny silence during the meal. One felt that this was a man who dwelt among the shadows, a man beyond the pale of human society and conversation, one who winced at the slightest noise. He would bow courteously to his fellow-guests, wishing them politely “God day”; and in return his fellow-guests would with equal polite indifference greet “the German professor.” There was never any wine or beer or coffee served where he sat; he smoked neither cigar nor cigarette after meals.

Immediately the meal was ended he would retire to his room, a typical chambre garnie, exiguous and chilly and dowdy. The table was usually littered with sheets of manuscript, with jottings on scraps of paper, with proofs. Not a flower, not an ornament, hardly a book, seldom a letter would be found.

One fine day he might take a stroll, but he would invariably go alone, alone with his thoughts. Never did he encounter a soul to cheer him, never did he have a companion, never did he meet an acquaintance. He hated gray weather, rain, snow which dazzled his eyes; and during such inclement days he would remain a prisoner in his dingy room. He never paid calls, never came in touch with other human beings. Of an evening he supped on a few biscuits and very weak tea, which having swallowed, he would resume his endless communing with his thoughts. A gulp of chloral or another soporific, and he would snatch at sleep, a sleep which is the facile boon of those who do not think overmuch and who are not perpetually harassed by the daimons.

Everywhere he went, the chambre garnie was the same. The names of the towns he visited changed from Sorrento to Turin, from Venice to Nice or Marienbad, but the chambre garnie remained identical, a rented room, a room totally lacking in any feeling of home.

During all the years of his pilgrimage he never once put up in friendly and cheerful surroundings, never at night felt the warm body of a woman pressing against him; never did the sun rise to see him famous, after a thousand nights of dark and silent labour. How immeasurably vaster was Nietzsche’s loneliness than is the picturesque highland of Sils-Maria where between luncheon and tea our tourists wander in the hope of capturing some of the glamour that clings to a spot sanctified by his presence. Nietzsche’s solitude was as wide as the world; it spread over the whole of his life until the very end. Conversation wearied and irritated him who constantly gnawed at his own vitals and whose hunger for himself, and himself alone, was never satiated.


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Chechar’s note:

Of course: these are only excerpts of a chapter of The Struggle with the Daimon, as in earlier or later installments of this series. A new edition of Zweig’s book, with syntax modified for readers of our century (I prefer the 1930 edition that I quote by direct typing from the text), is now available in the market.