by Savitri Devi
Edited by R.G. Fowler
This is the fourteenth chapter of Savitri Devi’s previously unpublished book Forever and Ever.
In transcribing and editing these texts, I have translated the German epigraphs, corrected any spelling and grammatical errors, and “Americanized” and updated the spelling. I have not altered Savitri’s sometimes eccentric capitalization practices. Nor have I altered her punctuation, although I have pruned her sometimes long ellipses down to three dots each. Editorial additions, omissions, and substitutions are indicated with notes. All notes are by the editor.
—R. G. Fowler
“Allein unser Denken und Handeln soll keineswegs von Beifall oder Ablehnung unserer Zeit bestimmt werden, sondern von der bindenden Verpflichtung an eine Wahrheit, die wir erkannten.’”
Of all ambitions in the world there is no higher one than that of being, in these times of trial, one of the few whose self-denial will help to clear the way for Thy return; one of the unknown few who burn with love and hate, as ardently as ever, and stand by thee alone against an evil fate; one of Thy dedicated ones who stubbornly remain upon the field when all is lost, however much they might yet have to learn, whoever much they might have to wait, determined to begin again, by any means, at any cost, knowing it is never too late.
Of all the pleasures in the world there is no greater one than to defy Thy enemies, whether in broad daylight or secret action, and to proclaim, against the overwhelming might both of the Red Front and Reaction, that Thou wast always right. There is no greater satisfaction than to behold the growing misery of that despicable humanity that hated Thee so readily, and fought but yesterday against our creed of life, to feel that their short victory has brought nothing but further strife between Jews’ allies. There is at present no delight so thrilling as to see their camp divided, and to hope that, one day, one will look at them fight, and to know that while the fools, who were so long the Jew’s best tools, will die during the Third World War, Thy faithful few will lead the Second Struggle for freedom and for might, and rise and rule, upon the ruins of the world—forever, in the glory of Thy light!
Firm in one’s faith in Thee, that no power can shatter, when one shows that, what can all the rest matter?
And even if our final Day were not to come in one’s lifetime, still one would have the holy joy of Duty done and of lasting defiance; still one would be, in spite of all, among the strong, among the free, who scorn the degrading alliance of the Dark forces; still one would feel proud of one’s place among the fighters for the honor of the Aryan race—unwavering like any one of them, in one’s limitless love of Thee, that nothing mars; free, even behind prison bars.
* * *
Thus did I feel while in my cell I worked and sang, and wrote. My cell was small. They sky, was bright. From its blue aether, so remote, as He pursued His daily course,2 The Sun, through the high window, projected slowly moving lines of light, upon the wall. And I was happy. All was well, thought I, as long as I could write,—also, as long as I could see, now and then, the best one of all the women who, with me, were there for having loved and served the truth and Thee.
Beyond the iron bars and the high walls, beyond the heavy prison doors, in the struggling world of the free, men came and went and children played; and fruit trees blossomed and green fields and woods displayed their splendor in the spring sunshine, while, just as beautiful as in the days Thy people greeted Thee with arms outstretched, between its smiling hill, on flowed the sacred Rhine. Over the charred and crumbling stones, that had been walls of happy homes, regardless of the work of strife wrought by the Jewish powers, tender green creeper with pink flowers grew as a glaring Sign of everlasting life. And in the devastated forests, from the live roots of every fallen tree, new shoots full of fresh sap took birth, and thrived invincibly, out of Germany’s holy earth.
But happier, in spite of all, than anyone in the broad outer world—happy in the communion of our unchanging love of Thee—were I and she.3
We talked of nothing but the splendid days in which Thou wast all-powerful, and those even more beautiful in which Thou willst return. And we were happy in the praise of all Thou art and all that Thou hast done; in the anticipation of the final annihilation of all the forces that stood in Thy way, and brought disaster on thy Nation, in the hope that we shall, one day witness Thy enemies crushed in their turn.
As I beheld the warrior’s wife, the worthy daughter of Thy Land, I felt that I had fought and loved and waited all my life, to earn the privilege of holding out my hand to her within that prison cell. In her blue eyes shone all the pride of those who struggled on Thy side for these last thirty years and who have now, in man-made hell, retained unflinchingly their faith in Thee, while in my dark eyes full of fire and tears, forgotten centuries of yearning for living earthly godhead in its strength and beauty, told the martyr of Duty all my unending admiration, while in my voice,4 drowning the wail of misery present and past, rang as a hymn of triumph, a whole world’s future adoration: the happiness of Aryan man standing by Thee of his own choice, hailing, in Thy fair people, his age-old gods in flesh and blood,—one day, at last!
And we were happy till the day the enemy discovered our secret meetings in my cell, and separated us—for how long? Who can tell?
* * *
For however long it might be, nothing can shake or lessen the faith of both of us in Thee. And nothing also can destroy, nothing can slacken, the holy bond of Comradeship now linking her to me.
Whether still behind iron bars, or wandering upon this sunlit earth that Money owns,5 so long as6 Thy spirit has not won,—so long as7 the Gods invisible have not ordered Thy return,—neither of us, and none of those who, like us, lived and fought for Thee, can now ever again be free, save in the realm inviolate of will and thought, of love and hate.8 So long as9 our second Day has not yet dawned upon Thy Land, we are all prisoners, whatever we might do in this wide world, wherever we might stand. But prisoners who know that they shall one day be the rulers of a reborn world, with Thee, through Thee, for Thee, and beyond Thee, for that true race of Gods: that coming Aryan mankind which is Thine—and mine.
United in our love of Thee forever and forever, she and I, and all those who walk along our Way, will keep on fighting for the resurrection of the great Reich, and waiting for Thy Day.
“Yet our thoughts and actions should in no way be determined by the approval or disapproval of our time, but by our bound duty to a truth we have recognized” (Mein Kampf
, 1939 edition, p. 435)—trans. R.G. Fowler.
5 “Owns” is conjectural. The typescript contains an ambiguous conglomeration of letters: the word “wars” with the letter “o” superimposed upon (or beneath) the “w.” Since “wars” makes no sense, and since a typed “n” could be misread as “ar” in retyping a draft, and since “owns” does make sense in the context, I think it a reasonable reading.
8 Replacing a comma with a period.