Douglas Mercer
September 29 2024
While speaking on an America First platform (1940) Charles Lindbergh said that if America wanted to spread democracy it should begin with giving it to the negroes in the South. That such a vulgar stupidity should emanate from the mouth of one so great is well night inconceivable, but you can look it up. Hell, Paul McCartney once serenaded Obama’s wife in the White House with a particular smarmy version of Michelle which is a gross lapse of taste if there ever was one. This only goes to show that while language is immortal men are fallible and only the ones willing to go all the way in following the train of thought to its conclusion (like, say, William Pierce) will not disappoint you in the end. They say after all that we should not mistreat our idols otherwise the gilt will come off on our hands.
HP Lovecraft is known for his dark horror laced stories and he has cadres of fandom to back him up. He was the master of interstellar nightmares, of great monuments and monoliths of the eons of time, of the dark chthonic forces that underlay the veneer of so called reality, all told in a crisp, clean and clear cinema veritie style of well reasoned and scientific rigor. In short he is a master, and with his cycle of myths about the old ones he has created a perfect metaphor for the unrecognized gods who will descend like something that goes bump in our night. Of course in any accounting of his genius the standard writer (though being a big fan) will have to cough a little and note sadly that the man was a racist. There is no doubt he was and his hideous creatures were cribbed from the reality of the dark dregs of “humanity” that were washing ashore in America in his lifetime. Such rank creatures were vile to him and enflamed his imagination to horror upon unmitigated horror. This “racism” is supposedly a blot on the great man’s record, like the fact that he said in 1933 that he thought that Hitler could rejuvenate Germany. But idols (and he is one) often have feet of clay, and we note too that the Germans under Hitler were on the very same quest as Lovecraft for those folkloric origins of our race, that is they were kindred spirits. Thus it is sad to note that when taking a closer look at the man one sees that for all his undoubted greatness he was not a deep thinker at all or at least not in every respect.
“Hitler’s vision is of course romantic and immature and colored with a fact ignoring emotionalism. There surely is a Hitler peril yet that cannot blind us to the basis rightness of the man’s basis urge. I repeat that there is a great and pressing need behind every one of his planks—racial continuity, conservative culture ideals. The crazy thing is not what Hitler wants but the way he sees it and starts out to get it. I know he is clown but by God I like the boy!”
So many errors and so little time, as is said. First off his use of the word “clown” shows that he buys into the main image of Hitler used by the Jewish media; Charlie Chaplin would press the point home to the hilt in his vile movie parodying Hitler. What Lovecraft is talking about is the theatricality and histrionic nature of Hitler’s presentation, but this was no reflection of the man’s buffoonery (there was none) but a calculated act, the pictures of Hitler in various actor like poses proves this thoroughly. Hitler wanted to be as flamboyant as possible, to be as extreme as possible, and the artist and bohemian in him loved the notion of being an actor.
There was nothing romantic about Adolf Hitler beyond his love affair with the German people and his dedication the destiny of Germany; he was a hard headed realist who knew the extremities to which the world was headed and that in order to meet this challenge one must be extreme in the extreme. This was not a mark of him being deranged, let alone “immature” (wild surmise!) but of his full fledged sanity and maturity. Facts of course are the last thing Hitler ignored, though one suspects that Lovecraft from his dreamy aerie missed more than a few.
Essentially what we see in Lovecraft is a failure of nerve. We saw the same thing in Madison Grant, another first order race thinker. Before his death in 1937 Grant feared the growing “extremism” of National Socialist Germany would redound negatively on the biologists and race thinkers of America who had worked so closely with their counterparts in Germany—and so it did. But if there is one truth that stands out it is that when everything is on the line tepid half measures or mealy-mouthed qualifications will not do. One must go all the way to the end. Lovecraft is essentially saying that he agrees with Hitler’s aims but he wishes he could just be a bit more moderate. But the old ones know better. The game is always a final one and the players are playing for keeps. The less Lovecraft he, as has been said.
Magda Goebbels knew it. When the time came she gave her many children cyanide—that is how heroes die. So many in the strata of National Socialist officialdom when the time came hedged their bets, that is the Brandts and Speers and Schmitts and Heideggers of the of the world instead of dying on their swords died with lies in the mouths or lived in ignominy while hedging all about.
The old fighters knew better. Streicher at the trial yelled “Purim Fest 1946!”. And in early April 1945 in the Berlin Philharmonic as the sound of Soviet Ordinance mixed with the swelling of the orchestra they played Siegfried’s Death March. After the moving performance Hitler Youth went around with cigar boxes in the foyer offering cyanide to anyone wishing to partake.
This is how heroes dies—so that their people may live. It’s what the fame of dead men’s deeds means, to give a shining and unalloyed example so the final victory may be ours. They say that Lovecraft kept a cyanide tablet on his desk but never saw fit to use it. Nevertheless, we salute his greatness and his journey into the abyss of himself and our world to give us a myth we can use. Yet it’s alright to mistreat our idols for the guilt comes off not on our hands but redounds on their heads.
