Imperium

The Reviews

The spiritual breath of a people that drives the movement of a national power is what can be called a culture.  Such a movement governs not only States, but from historic record, entire continents.  Even hemispheres.  Drawing into this their fine arts and creative forces of every facet, chord and hue.  The charge of their chariots.  The clang of their claymores.  And the thunder of their galloping might.

The author of Imperium writes expressly of the historic West in this context.  And particularly how it applies to the centuries after the Birth of Christ, leading up to the year 1948 when this two volume work was published — with Nuremberg fresh on his mind.

Under the pen name “Ulick Varange,” Francis Parker Yockey laid down the track to a rock on which the world now stubs its collective toe — in great excruciation.  Oh how it smarts they say — the ubiquitous venom of the day.  The culture-distorting, diseased matrix in which we now find ourselves.  Yockey’s adroit, lawyerly diction drove home the point on pages perfect for the mountain tops.  A trumpet sound to knock you down.

After taking a position on the Nuremberg prosecution team, it smote Yockey that this “War Crimes Tribunal” was a sham.  A total travesty of justice.  A fabricated frame-up.  A kangaroo court au grand to smear and massacre innocent men for the sole purpose of revenge.  Nuremberg was a show trial barring all military honour and protocol.

As an aside, Nuremberg was similar to the “Great Sedition Trial” of the Rosenfeld administration drummed up against Elizabeth Dilling and her ilk for their anti-Communist stance in the USA.  A pivotal judge on the Roosevelt witch-hunt panel dropped dead of a heart attack in the middle of the trial.  After that they threw out the case.  Omen?  Superstition?  Poetic justice?  You be the judge.  You won’t find a trace of  this on the well-balanced and “comprehensive” Wikipedia.  That I can promise you.

Back to Nuremberg.  After two years on the War Crimes Tribunal, Francis Parker Yockey resigned his post.  He had seen enough and wanted no part of the dirt that was being done.  Nor the lies.  Nor the murders.  But he took what he learned there to a rented cottage on the coast of Ireland — and wrote Imperium.  Oh yes he did.

The mysterious conditions surrounding Yockey’s untimely death in 1960 only serve to corroborate the persecution that snaps at the heels of truth tellers.  And adds more fuel to the fire of this crusade.  Typical of their tack, the State Department refused to renew Yockey’s passport.  He was arrested and jailed upon return to California.  Revenge again.  He wrote one rocker of a tome — that ripped the Bolsheviks of Nuremberg a new one.

Yockey’s dam-break comes on page 219 of Willis Carto’s unabridged, one-volume edition (Noontide Press, Torrance California, 1962).  A wall of white water slams the reader with the who and how of The Age of Reason.  “Born in bloodshed and will pass out of vogue in more bloodshed.”  Wake up, all ye lambs.

On page 252, Yockey defines the harness’able boor on whom the bloodiest revolutions depend.  The low-brow savage and primitive who is easily duped, enslaved, and led by his animal nature.  The churl who “gambles in the hope of winning, and if he loses, he whimpers.”  The common brute who “would rather live on his knees than die on his feet.”  Yockey shoots from the hip, “He herds in the street to see an accident, and enjoys seeing another  sustain the blows of fate.  He does not care if his countrymen are spilling their blood as long as his is secure.”  The author adds, “Nothing delights him more than to see a great leader fall.”  A fierce and fine delivery, this text.  No wonder this man is dead.  No wonder the good die young.  Look what they did to Ezra Pound, the greatest poet of his generation.

And hitting the nail on the head, page 253, “When democratic conditions proceed to their extreme, the result is that even the leaders are common men, with the jealous and crooked soul of envy of that to which they are not equal, like Roosevelt and his coterie in America.”  Oh darling you churn up the basin like a percheron.

I am convinced that what made Yockey a feared writer and hated rival to culture distorters of the 20th Century (they have many other names by the way, Jesus called them children of the devil) is firstly his education.  Yockey graduated from Notre Dame Law School with honours.  Ouch.  His brilliance is not just erudite, but history-heavy.  His widely-read, expansive knowledge wields the blade of Excalibur.

What the author points out and sums up is how after World War Two, Japan got a leg-up and help with licking its war wounds.  Remember Dr. Deming and Total Quality Management?  Well there you go, Bro.  But Germany to this day is getting the shaft.

Compared to Japan, Germany got blockaded, starved, massacred and gang-raped even after its civilian populations were carpet-bombed.  Then hopped in the kangaroo of Nuremberg to smear, humiliate and hang an honourable host of military men all in the name of revenge.

General Robert E. Lee would not have done it like that.  Ulysses S. Grant at Appomattox showed Lee proper decorum.  Once a war is lost, there is proper conduct governing all gentlemen in our Western “West Point” Culture that the jackals in the Roosevelt and Stalin camps threw out the window.  That is because such decorum is not in them.  Nor honour.  Nor virtue.  They have the personalities of insects.  Of Lincoln I would say – at least he was reptilian.  That he gets the biggest monument in L’Enfant’s layout should be a telling wall.

Advertisements