Douglas Mercer
December 10 2024
Continued from Empyrean (Part One)
ORIGINS
Bismarck said the most important event in world history was when the first Englishman set foot in Virginia; that was very prescient and was true when he said it (1870); soon a more important event happened when the first Jew set foot in New York Harbor (1880); now of course that the decision of history has been made by us we know that the palm goes to when it seemed that the Russians might miraculously be turning the tide at Stalingrad and we threw them back—forever (1942).
I can say for sure that for my grandfather’s generation the primary effect of the American Civil was to shake them to the core—they could see that though it was monstrously ill conceived to waste over half million of the flower of your youth to liberate Negroes—a nation that would fight that intensely and that valiantly for anything would soon be a world force—and so it was proved. From the beginning we National Socialists were always fascinated by America, we deeply admired them and adored their relentless drive and implacable energy but considered them a funny country which we did not totally understand.
Theodore Roosevelt gave a great paean to White Democracy saying it was the powers that be in the Metropole which tragically (for our race) foisted slavery on the New World and that were it not for the White race and their people’s democracy they would have turned California into a colony of China and eventually the Southwestern states into Mexico. And by the time of our struggle America was enacting eugenics, restricting immigration, and holding the line against the negro; we were so impressed we sent Krieger to Arkansas to study race laws so we could crib from it at Nuremberg.
But we always felt that there was a wide-eyed egalitarian strain in the country which could prove perilous; had we not saved them from their own worst instincts god knows what would have happened to them with their Negros and Jews; one shudders to think. I am put in mind of this country, now our trusted friend, because when I think of our present time I think that most of all what we are doing is liberating the earth—and it has set me thinking of freedom. Of course America is the land of the free, but in their founding document they spoke of equality and happiness—two things which run counter to true freedom. For the first fruit from which freedom rings is only and always obedience; and happiness is but the last fleeting wisps of an evanescent reality.
In the late Nineteenth Century American Historians formulated what was called the Germ Theory of history. I recall studying this movement at Heidelberg in the late thirties and being suitably impressed; if I may simplify matters for the sake of brevity, this theory held that everything pertaining to freedom (which the Americans cherished) came from Germany. The slogan that was bruited about was: Freedom was born in a German Forrest. And so it was but our German cousins (as Hitler was fond of calling them) did not pick up the corollary: that freedom can never originate in a Quaker Meeting Hall.
That is by the time one has a charter (be it Magna Carta or Constitution) you have already forfeited your freedom for if you feel compelled to write something down you have already forgotten it, already lost it. For with a written constitution there will always arise a thousand lawyers with two thousand opinions and soon that document won’t be worth the paper it was printed on. For freedom is the freedom to obey, not to obey written words or compacts or confederations, but to obey the inner voice of the people, and the inner voice of the blood, that one hears in one’s soul. And true freedom, is I may get waggish myself, will be born on a Northern Plain.
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Now that I am tasked with explaining the origins of the German people I am tempted to leave off and just say that we were born in the mists of time, and sprung from the earth, and have been here since time out of mind and time immemorial. But most importantly we are like no one but ourselves—that great and portent phrase from Tacitus—and I recall how Himmler once told me he had read the Germania on a train in 1924—and his life was irrevocably altered. We are like no one but ourselves, that is we were made of the soil of the earth and as long as we kept the strain of our race pure we were sure of victory. This lesson we took to heart which is why we were so vexed in the 1930s at our race problem which we began to remedy so successfully. To the world our obsession with race was pseudo-science and an atavistic throwback to a darker time. But we are tutelary spirits to the world and the world knows better now; for you never win the day by explaining anything; you simply have to show them.
The word Germany was given to us by Julius Caesar who used it to identify the people East of the Rhine. Deutschland comes from the Old High German diota or people; from Proto Indo European tewteh (people) we get Teutons; all people of course at first consider them themselves the people and all others barbarians and we begrudge no other people their fantasies provided they do not interfere with our course to develop along out own lines—and we define that distinction draconianly.
Naturally we have now pinpointed that rise of the Aryans which is the ultimate stem of our nation; having arisen in what is now part of the Greater Reich in the east that noble milk drinking nomadic people fanned out to India and to Europe; we have now even mapped this descent genetically and any German can see plotted on a graph the migrations of his folk; certainly the Greeks and the Romans were Aryans and so German in the deeper sense, the early rising and flourishing of the Southern branch of our people.
Ultimately those warlike tribes on the Rhine would themselves fan out across the world to create the world as we know it: to Northern Italy, to Austria, to form the elite of Russia, to create England and America and then (nearly catastrophically) later emigrate to America in droves. Indeed, Hitler tells the story of the Great War when he saw tall and well-fed men fighting against him and they were German; and he grieved in his great race soul that our people was killing one another and doing so in the name of something as frothlike as “nations.”
The lesson here is that wherever one sees progress and mind and culture and true civilization one sees Germans.
Germany is separated from the Galli, the Rhæti, and Pannonii, by the rivers Rhine and Danube ; mountain ranges, or the fear which each feels for the other, divide it from the Sarmatæ and Daci. Elsewhere ocean girds it, embracing broad peninsulas and islands of unexplored extent, where certain tribes and kingdoms are newly known to us, revealed by war. The Rhine springs from a precipitous and inaccessible height of the Rhætian Alps, bends slightly westward, and mingles with the Northern Ocean. The Danube pours down from the gradual and gently rising slope of Mount Abnoba, and visits many nations, to force its way at last through six channels into the Pontus; a seventh mouth is lost in marshes.
So said Tacitus in the unsurpassed eloquence which is the hallmark alone of the Aryan man. As to our early character Tacitus stresses our simplicity, bravery, honor, fidelity, loyalty; we were a warlike people in which the group was paramount and we see in the great pages of Germania the links that unite us throughout the ages. As for political organization (if we may call it that) it was centered around the Thing, of Thingstatte; these were open air assemblies called folkmoot or tribal council which collected the free people of the community and was presided over by a Law Speaker (an indication of a proto Leadership Principle); all these things are peculiar to our people as they stem from our race soul and spirit and from our blood.
To the god Mars Thincsus and the two Alaisiagae, Beda and Fimmilena, and to the Divinity of the Emperor the Germanics, being tribesmen of Tuihanti, we willingly and deservedly fulfilled their vow.
So ran the oath of loyalty which has always been so inherent in our people; a man’s word was his loyalty and honor and was his oath before the people and the gods; a man who broke it would be sunk alive in a bog. Indeed so great did the idea of the Thing loom in our imaginations that in the 1930s we created these outdoor amphitheaters built on a Greek model (semi-circle built into a natural cove with a stage slightly raised) in order to host festivals of all kinds and outdoor performances of choral theater. The war stopped the production of this but once victory was in sight we began to build them on a massive scale and no region now but does not have one; having devolved the lines of authority these locales double as an open-air political forum and are dedicated to the arts of rhetoric and music.
As is well known Hitler was somewhat embarrassed by this pre-history of our people. To him Himmler’s project of the Ahnenerbe seemed to be a fool’s errand on a wild goose chase looking for red herrings; to dig through the graveyards of time when all they would find was pottery shards and the odd knife or two, or maybe dredge up some bones from a bog and find the foundations of a rudimentary hut; this always seemed to him to cast a pale reflection when contrasted to the art that was occurring in the South at the time by our race brothers, the pinnacle of art in Greece and Rome, and to him it was a bit sheepish to study it.
I can say in all loyalty that he need not have felt so. In the long view the Germans of the time, our people, were incubating and gestating; our time on the world’s stage had yet to come and when we would leap upon it we would do so in full armor flaming in fire. The German Spirit is a mysterious thing (the most mysterious really), and our people have had a reputation as being a lumbering and slow people; perhaps that is true; but in the open air of those assemblies, in the bogs of those marshes, and the density of those forests something magical was being born. The majesty of a great people, a sun worshiping people, a light bringing people, a creative people, a people who would one day (in our day) rule and liberate the world, set the spirit free.
ARMINIUS
The battle of Teutoburg forest is of course a historical set piece, millions of schoolboys learn it with shining faces; and vain Augustine’s cries Varus Varus where are my legions! has long been a childhood lesson. But one should not let the many repetitions of its inordinate glories undermine its significance. The battle (September 8 to 11 AD9) itself took place in what we now call Kalkriese and the Roman historians of the time called it the Varian Disaster as well they might. As is well known Arminius had received both Roman Citizenship and a Roman military education which enabled him to repeatedly and methodically deceive the Roman armies and anticipate their tactical responses. When on the morning of the eighth the Roman army decamped and began snaking its way through the forest this precipitous action tended to string out and disperse the army along its line.
When this line was stretched perilously long it suddenly came under attack from our forces and with our long lances and narrow bladed short spears we were able to rain down javelins on the cohort; as we retreated after this blow torrential rains began to come, a sign of an auspicious wind from the gods; after setting up camp amid the deluge Varus tried to rally his men to a retreat but marched into another trap when on a sandy open strip (where great markers lay and memorials are held each year now) the Roman march was constricted by the swiftness of our men. When the leaders tried to escape they were hunted down and killed to the last man; and then the Germanic warriors stormed the field where the mass of Romans were and slaughtered the army man by man in what was a constantly disengaging force. To his credit Varus took his own life at this spectacle, an act which will always earn the respect of an Aryan, as a leader must axiomatically go down whit the ship.
We tarry over this scene due to its epochal nature; once the war was over we turned the fabled field into a shine and I can tell you that it is one of the most popular; the ones in Nuremberg and Berlin with the blood banners and the august statues and pillars are favorites too but there is something about going back into that fog enshrouded forest which stirs the soul; I try to go every year and a flood of memories always come, memories of my people, memories augmented and detailed by my intensive study of it; and I look at the many coins in the small building we have erected for a guidepost to the history; they say that just before the battle it was payday for the Romans and the coins were littered in the melee so when millennia later we pored over it we found them and so marked the site; how awfully appropriate! Was it not Plutarch who said if you want to destroy a nation just make it rich! So true! And Rome, the Rome of the Aryans, the Rome of the patricians, we honor it greatly; they were a hardened and steeled people, and they worshipped their gods but what they worshipped most was themselves: race, ancestors, people, family, clan.
They say that in the best of the old Roman households they would have a room of the masks of their forebears: and on special holidays they would don them so that when one looked at another one was looking at the past through its own eyes. What a great story that is, and we do the same, if not so literally. But it was on the Capitol Steps when Julius Caesar died that our famed Saxon poet said the sheeted did leave the graves and shriek and gibber at the outrage; and when the great hero died Rome, the old Rome, the Rome we will always revere, went under; Augustus proved incapable of doing anything but caretaking, lacking vision, lacking a grand view of what the future could hold. Had Caesar lived he would have gone forward into this future; but even after the flawed but steady Augustus it was the deluge; soon Rome lapsed into an imperial and universalist creed and soon Rome, as the poet said, became the universal sewer into which the shit of all the world flowed. Racial shit he meant.
And it was our averting of this deracinating mixing of blood by the sole virtue at Teutoburg which we remember in awe; for without this victory we would have succumbed and been subsumed into an Imperia of World Citizens; we would have forfeited our distinctive nature, we would have become like anyone but ourselves, submerged in the diseased tide. Rome itself was given over to corruption and unspeakable sexual and moral license; by the time Marcus Aurelius came along it was too late and you will notice that this great man, faced with the degeneracy of his people, retreated into a personal world of learning and philosophy; his example is great but this is not and never has been the image of a leader. So what we owe those brave men with their courage, wiles and lancets is epochal and incalculable; that the German people would remain themselves to survive into the far future is due to their strength; many obstacles lay in our path but until 1900 years later they remained ideological; and as long as the race is pure the spirit can always reemerge, reemerge to lead us onto our path from which we have no desire to turn back.
Continued at Empyrean (Part Three)
Empyrean (Part Two)
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Douglas Mercer
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Re: Empyrean (Part Two)
The first page of Germania, the Codex Aesinas
