BOTH SUN AND LIGHTNING
THE LATE-BORN CHILD OF LIGHT
It was in 1889 — during the first year of Kaiser William the Second’s reign.
Bismark — the Iron Chancellor; the maker of the Second German Reich — was still in power, though not for long. The hidden anti-German forces that were soon to cause his dismissal and then, gradually, to break the impetus he had given things, were already at work; had been at work for years. But there were imponderable factors — moral and mystical forces — besides and, nay, behind them: the very forces of disintegration that had been, for over two millenniums,1 striving to lead the Aryan race to its doom. And it needed a more-than-political genius, nay, a more-than-human personality, to stand in the way of those.
Specially for the past hundred years, i.e., since the outbreak of the French Revolution, Europe had been sinking, more speedily than ever, under the influence of international Jewry and of its cunning agents: Free Masonry, and the various so-called “spiritual” secret bodies directly or indirectly affiliated to it. Centuries of erroneous application of Christianity — an essentially other-worldly creed — to worldly affairs, had prepared the ground for the triumph of the most dangerous superstitions: the belief in the “equal rights” of “all men” to life and “happiness”; the belief in citizenship and “culture” as distinct from and more important than race; the belief in illimited “progress” through a presumed universal receptivity to “education” and in the possibility of universal Peace and “happiness” as a result of “progress” — the wonderful
1 I say “over two millenniums” meaning that the disintegrating influence of Jewry upon the Aryan race began before the advent of Christianity. The disastrous new scale of values drawn from the misapplied other-worldly religion, and the spreading of the creed itself, were the consequences of Jewish influence, not its causes.
discoveries of science being put to the service of “man”; the belief in the right of man to work against Nature’s spirit and purpose for his own brief pleasure or profit. One had increasingly stressed, exalted, made popular the sickly love of “man” as distinct from and opposed to all other creatures, or, to be more accurate, the love of a repulsive, standardised conception of “the average man,” “neither all good nor all bad” but weak, mediocre, — as foreign as possible to the age-old warrior-like Aryan idea of superior humanity expressed in the conception of the “hero like unto the Gods,” to use Homer’s words.
And colonialism was at its height, and Christian missionary activity also. Which means that, after having given herself up to the forces of disintegration, Europe was rapidly handing the rest of the world over to them; preparing the very last phase of the Dark Age: the state of biological chaos which is the preliminary condition of the rule of the worst and the systematic annihilation of any surviving human élite of blood and character.
* * *
At that time, an elderly, honest and hard-working Customs officer lived with his wife and family in Braunau, a pretty little town on the river Inn, on the border of Austria and Germany.
The town, with its main square, on one side of which an old fountain, dominated by a stone statue of Christ, is still to be seen; with its old houses and churches, its old streets, — clean, but often narrow, — and the four-storied “tower” — Salzburger Turm, —that already separated the main square from “the Suburb,”1 was little different from any small town in the region. It probably looked much the same as it does to-day: small towns change less than large ones. And the Customs officer, whose name was Alois Hitler, lived and re-acted to, life as many a Government clerk. Gifted with enormous will-power and perseverance, he had, in his youth, worked himself up from the position of a village lad to that of a scribe in a Government office, which appeared to him as the summit of respectability. And now, after all these years, the days of
1 Die Vorstadt.
which were so desperately alike, his dreary life did not seem dreary to him, for he had no time to think of it as such. Meticulously dutiful, he worked and worked. And days and years went by. Time would soon come when the honest clerk would retire, with a small pension.
Meanwhile, he lived in “the Suburb,” only a few footsteps from the Salzburger Turm, in an old, two-storied house that had picturesque arched landings at the top of each flight of stairs, and spacious rooms. His wife, Clara, was pretty: blonde, with magnificent blue eyes. Aged twenty-nine only, (she was his third wife) she was of an ardent, thoughtful and self-possessed nature; as imaginative and intuitive as her husband was unromantically pains-taking; as loving as he was dutiful; and capable of endless sustained sacrifice. She respected him deeply; he was her husband. But she loved her children — and God; God in her children. And she did not herself know how right she was, i.e., how truly the divine spirit — the divine collective Self of Aryan mankind, Whose manifestation appears now and then in the form of an extraordinary human being, — lived in the youngest baby son that she was nursing: her fourth child.
She had just given birth to him on the 20th of April, at six o’clock eighteen in the afternoon, in that large airy room on the second floor — the last on the right hand side, at the end of a narrow passage — in which she was now reclining, still feeling weak, but happy. The three windows opened on the street. Through their spotless glass-panes and white blinds warm sunshine poured in. The baby slept. The mother rested. She did not know that she had just been the instrument of a tremendous cosmic Will.
A few hundreds of yards away, — beyond the Salzburger Turm and the broad Square surrounded with relatively high houses, — on flowed the greyish-blue River Inn, tributary of the Danube. There was a bridge over it, like to-day. The landscape — soft green hills, with woods here and there; and neat and homely red-roofed houses, and, occasionally, the steeple of a church, between the river bank and the rich green slopes in the distance — as the same on both sides of the bridge. The people were the same: Bavarians; — Germans. But this side — where the main Square with its old fountain, the Salzburger
Turm and “the Suburb” stood — was called “Austria”; the other side: Germany.
The baby slept; the mother rested; was grateful for the bright sunshine and the coming summer. She would be able to take the child out, now and then, when she would find time. In the meantime she prayed to the Queen of Heaven that he might live: her three first children had died, one after the other.
* * *
The Child was christened Adolf.
Thirty-five years later, the Man into whom he had grown was to write: “It appears to me to-day that Destiny has happily appointed me Braunau on the Inn as a birthplace. This little town lies indeed on the border of the two German States, the unification of which we men of the younger generation consider as our life’s work, to be carried out by all means.”1
He referred to “Destiny.” Had it not been for the oddness of such a statement in a book written for millions of Europeans hardly concerned with or interested in the idea of birth and rebirth, he could have, with equal if not greater accuracy, spoken of his “own choice.” For according to the Ancient Wisdom, men of such a quality as he choose to be born, without being compelled to, and choose their birthplace.
Invisible in the blue sky above the little frontier-town, the stars formed, on the 20th. of April 1889, at six o’clock eighteen in the afternoon, a definite pattern marking the return to earth of Him Who comes back; of the divine Man “against Time” — the incarnate collective Self of superior mankind, — Who, again and again, and every time more heroically, stands alone against the ever-accelerated current of universal decay, and prepares, in hard, bloody struggle, the dawning of the following Time-cycle, even if he be, for some years or decades, apparently bound to fail.
For the newly born Babe was none other than He.
1 Adolf Hitler, “Mein Kampf,” p. 1.
* * *
Never had circumstances been more unfavourable to His recognition, nay, to the very possibility of His taking consciousness of His mission in the garb of a predestined ruler. Not only was there, as everyone will readily agree, a long way from the child’s humble status to that which he had to attain in order to play, in the history of the West, the political part he was destined, but nothing seemed likely to prepare him for the accomplishment of his even greater task, namely that of awakening the Western Aryan Soul to its own natural wisdom. Aryan Wisdom, in its conscious, warrior-like form, in opposition to all the traditional values of Christianity, was unknown in the Western world of the time, let alone in Braunau on the Inn, — unknown, at least, to all but a few lonely thinkers such as Friedrich Nietzsche. The heavenly Powers, however, gave the divine Child two main privileges through which he was, amazingly soon, to become aware of it; to reinvent it of his own accord; first, a pure, healthy heredity, containing the very best both of Nordic and of Keltic blood — the fiery imagination and mystical intuition of the Kelt, allied to Nordic willpower, thoroughness, efficiency and sense of justice, (and insight also); and, along with that, a passionate, limitless and fathomless love for that German Land that stretched on both sides of the Inn as well as on both sides of the Danube and beyond, and for its people, his blood-brothers: not those who are perfect specimens of higher humanity (for there are none in this Dark Age) but for those who can and will become such ones, while they have the stuff in them.
Through that love — and through it alone — he was to raise himself to the intuitive certitude of the eternal Truth upon which he was to build the National Socialist Doctrine, modern form of the perennial Religion of Life; to that certitude which separates him from even the greatest politicians and sets him straight away into the category of the warring Seers, Founders of the healthiest civilisations we know; into the category of the. Men “against Time,” whose vision grasps, beyond our sickly world, doomed to speedy destruction, the yet unthinkable following Golden Age, of which they are the prophets and will be the gods.
Written in Emsdetten in Westfalen (Germany), on the 14th of August, 1954.