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Feudalism: Its Frankish Birth And English Development Part Ten

The reunion of so many fiefs was attempted to be secured by a legal

principle, that the domain was inalienable and imprescriptible.  This became

at length a fundamental maxim in the law of France.  But it does not seem to

be much older than the reign of Philip V., who, in 1318, revoked the

alienations of his predecessors, nor was it thoroughly established, even in

theory, till the fifteenth century. ^a Alienations, however, were certainly

very repugnant to the policy of Philip Augustus and St. Louis.  But there was

one species of infeudation so consonant to ancient usage and prejudice that it

could not be avoided upon any suggestions of policy; this was the investiture

of younger princes of the blood with considerable territorial appanages.  It

is remarkable that the epoch of appanages on so great a scale was the reign of

St. Louis, whose efforts were constantly directed against feudal independence.

Yet he invested his brothers with the counties of Poitou, Anjou, and Artois,

and his sons with those of Clermont and Alencon.  This practice, in later

times, produced very mischievous consequences.

 

[Footnote a: Preface au 15me tome des Ordonnances, par M. Pastoret.]

 

     Under a second class of events that contributed to destroy the spirit of

the feudal system we may reckon the abolition of villenage, the increase of

commerce and consequent opulence of merchants and artisans, and especially the

institutions of free cities and boroughs.  This is one of the most important

and interesting steps in the progress of society during the middle ages, and

deserves particular consideration.

 

     The provincial cities under the Roman empire enjoyed, as is well known, a

municipal magistracy, and the right of internal regulation.  Nor was it

repugnant to the spirit of the Frank or Gothic conquerors to leave them in

possession of these privileges.  It was long believed, however, that little,

if any, satisfactory proof of their preservation, either in France or Italy,

could be found; or, at least, if they had ever existed, that they were wholly

swept away in the former country during the confusion of the ninth century,

which ended in the establishment of the feudal system.

 

     Every town, except within the royal domains, was subject to some lord.

In episcopal cities the bishop possessed a considerable authority; and in many

there was a class of resident nobility.  But this subject has been better

elucidated of late years; and it has been made to appear that instances of

municipal government were at least not rare, especially in the south of

France, throughout the long period between the fall of the western empire and

the beginning of the twelfth century, ^b though becoming far more common in

its latter part.

 

[Footnote b: [Note  XVIII.]]

 

     The earliest charters of community granted to towns in France have been

commonly referred to the time of Louis VI.  Noyon, St. Quentin, Laon, and

Amiens appear to have been the first that received emancipation at the hands

of this prince. ^c The chief towns in the royal domains were successively

admitted to the same privileges during the reigns of Louis VI., Louis VII.,

and Philip Augustus.  This example was gradually followed by the peers and

other barons; so that by the end of the thirteenth century the custom had

prevailed over all France.  It has been sometimes imagined that the crusades

had a material influence in promoting the erection of communities.  Those

expeditions would have repaid Europe for the prodigality of crimes and

miseries which attended them if this notion were founded in reality.  But I

confess that in this, as in most other respects, their beneficial consequences

appear to me very much exaggerated.  The cities of Italy obtained their

internal liberties by gradual encroachments, and by the concessions of the

Franconian emperors. Those upon the Rhine owed many of their privileges to the

same monarchs, whose cause they had espoused in the rebellions of Germany.  In

France the charters granted by Louis the Fat could hardly be connected with

the first crusade, in which the crown had taken no part, and were long prior

to the second.  It was not till fifty years afterwards that the barons seem to

have trod in his steps by granting charters to their vassals, and these do not

appear to have been particularly related in time to any of the crusades.

Still less can the corporations erected by Henry II. in England be ascribed to

these holy wars, in which England had hitherto taken no considerable share.

 

[Footnote c: Ordonnances des Rois, ubi supra, p. 7.  These charters are as old

as 1110, but the precise date is unknown.]

 

     The establishment of chartered towns in France has also been ascribed to

deliberate policy.  “Louis the Gross,” says Robertson, “in order to create

some power that might counter-balance those potent vassals who controlled or

gave law to the crown, first adopted the plan of conferring new privileges on

the towns situated within his own domain.” Yet one does not immediately

perceive what strength the king could acquire by granting these extensive

privileges within his own domains, if the great vassals were only weakened, as

he asserts afterwards, by following his example. In what sense, besides, can

it be meant that Noyon or Amiens, by obtaining certain franchises, became a

power that could counterbalance the Duke of Normandy or Count of Champagne?

It is more natural to impute this measure, both in the king and his barons, to

their pecuniary exigencies; for we could hardly doubt that their concessions

were sold at the highest price, even if the existing charters did not exhibit

the fullest proof of it. ^d It is obvious, however, that the coarser methods

of rapine must have grown obsolete, and the rights of the inhabitants of towns

to property established, before they could enter into any compact with their

lord for the purchase of liberty.  Guibert, abbot of St. Nogent, near Laon,

relates the establishment of a community in that city with circumstances that,

in the main, might probably occur in any other place. Continual acts of

violence and robbery having been committed, which there was no police adequate

to prevent, the clergy and principal inhabitants agreed to enfranchise the

populace for a sum of money, and to bind the whole society by regulations for

general security.  These conditions were gladly accepted; the money was paid,

and the leading men swore to maintain the privileges of the inferior freemen.

The bishop of Laon, who happened to be absent, at first opposed this new

institution, but was ultimately induced, by money, to take a similar oath; and

the community was confirmed by the king.  Unluckily for himself, the bishop

afterwards annulled the charter; when the inhabitants, in despair at seeing

themselves reduced to servitude, rose and murdered him.  This was in 1112; and

Guibert’s narrative certainly does not support the opinion that charters of

community proceeded from the policy of government.  He seems to have looked

upon them with the jealousy of a feudal abbot, and blames the Bishop of Amiens

for consenting to such an establishment in his city, from which, according to

Guibert, many evils resulted.  In his sermons, we are told, this abbot used to

descant on “those execrable communities where serfs, against law and justice,

withdraw themselves from the power of their lords.” ^e

 

[Footnote d: Ordonnances des Rois, t. xi. preface, p. 18 et 50.]

 

[Footnote e: Hist. Litteraire de la France, t. x. 448.  Du Cange, voc.

Communia.]

 

     In some cases they were indebted for success to their own courage and

love of liberty.  Oppressed by the exactions of their superiors, they had

recourse to arms, and united themselves in a common league, confirmed by oath,

for the sake of redress.  One of these associations took place at Mans as

early as 1067, and, though it did not produce any charter of privileges, is a

proof of the spirit to which ultimately the superior classes were obliged to

submit. ^f Several charters bear witness that this spirit of resistance was

justified by oppression.  Louis VII. frequently declares the tyranny exercised

over the towns to be his motive for enfranchising them.  Thus the charter of

Mantes, in 1150, is said to be given “pro nimia oppressione pauperum:” that of

Compiegne, in 1153, “propter enormitates clericorum:” that of Dourlens,

granted by the Count of Ponthieu in 1202, “propter injurias et molestias a

potentibus terrae burgensibus frequenter illatas.” ^g

 

[Footnote f: Recueil des Historiens, t. xiv. preface p.66.]

 

[Footnote g: Ordonnances des Rois, t. xi. preface p. 17.]

 

     The privileges which these towns of France derived from their charters

were surprisingly extensive; especially if we do not suspect some of them to

be merely in confirmation of previous usages.  They were made capable of

possessing common property, and authorized to use a common seal as the symbol

of their incorporation.  The more oppressive and ignominious tokens of

subjection, such as the fine paid to the lord for permission to marry their

children, were abolished.  Their payments of rent or tribute were limited both

in amount and as to the occasions when they might be demanded; and these were

levied by assessors of their own electing.  Some obtained an exemption from

assisting their lord in war; others were only bound to follow him when he

personally commanded; and almost all limited their service to one, or, at the

utmost, very few days.  If they were persuaded to extend its duration, it was,

like that of feudal tenants, at the cost of their superior.  Their customs, as

to succession and other matters of private right, were reduced to certainty,

and, for the most part, laid down in the charter of incorporation.  And the

observation of these was secured by the most valuable privilege which the

chartered towns obtained – that of exemption from the jurisdiction, as well of

the royal as the territorial judges.  They were subject only to that of

magistrates, either wholly elected by themselves, or, in some places, with a

greater or less participation of choice in the lord.  They were empowered to

make special rules, or, as we call them, by-laws, so as not to contravene the

provisions of their charter, or the ordinances of the king. ^h

 

[Footnote h: Ibid., prefaces aux tomes xi. et xii.; Du Cange, voc. Communia,

Hostis; Carpentier, Suppl. ad Du Cange, v. Hostis; Mably, Observations sur

l'Hist. de France, l. iii. c. 7.]

 

     It was undoubtedly far from the intention of those barons who conferred

such immunities upon their subjects to relinquish their own superiority and

rights not expressly conceded.  But a remarkable change took place in the

beginning of the thirteenth century, which affected, in a high degree, the

feudal constitution of France.  Towns, distrustful of their lord’s fidelity,

sometimes called in the king as guarantee of his engagements.  The first stage

of royal interference led to a more extensive measure.  Philip Augustus

granted letters of safeguard to communities dependent upon the barons,

assuring to them his own protection and patronage. ^i And this was followed up

so quickly by the court, if we believe some writers, that in the next reign

Louis VIII. pretended to the immediate sovereignty over all chartered towns,

in exclusion of their original lords. ^j Nothing, perhaps, had so decisive an

effect in subverting the feudal aristocracy.  The barons perceived, too late,

that, for a price long since lavished in prodigal magnificence or useless

warfare, they had suffered the source of their wealth to be diverted, and the

nerves of their strength to be severed.  The government prudently respected

the privileges secured by charter.  Philip the Long established an officer in

all large towns to preserve peace by an armed police; but though subject to

the orders of the crown, he was elected by the burgesses, and they took a

mutual oath of fidelity to each other.  Thus shielded under the king’s mantle,

they ventured to encroach upon the neighboring lords, and to retaliate for the

long oppression of the commonalty. ^k Every citizen was bound by oath to stand

by the common cause against all aggressors, and this obligation was abundantly

fulfilled.  In order to swell their numbers, it became the practice to admit

all who came to reside within their walls to the rights of burghership, even

though they were villeins appurtenant to the soil of a master from whom they

had escaped. ^l Others, having obtained the same privileges, continued to

dwell in the country; but, upon any dispute with their lords, called in the

assistance of their community. Philip the Fair, erecting certain communes in

Languedoc, gave to any who would declare on oath that he was aggrieved by the

lord or his officers the right of being admitted a burgess of the next town,

upon paying one mark of silver to the king, and purchasing a tenement of a

definite value.  But the neglect of this condition and several other abuses

are enumerated in an instrument of Charles V., containing the complaints made

by the nobility and rich ecclesiastics of the neighborhood. ^m In his reign

the feudal independence had so completely yielded, that the court began to

give in to a new policy, which was ever after pursued: that of maintaining the

dignity and privileges of the noble class against those attacks which wealth

and liberty encouraged the plebeians to make upon them.

 

[Footnote i: Mably, Observations sur l'Hist. de France, l. iii. c. 7.]

 

[Footnote j: Reputabat civitates omens suas esse, in quibus communiae essent.

I mention this in deference to Du Cange, Mably, and others, who assume the

fact as incontrovertible; but the passage is only in a monkish chronicler,

whose authority, were it even more explicit, would not weigh much in a matter

of law.  Beaumanoir, however, sixty years afterwards, lays it down that no one

can erect a commune without the king's consent, c. 50, p. 268.  And this was

an unquestionable maxim in the fourteenth century. - Ordonnances, t. xi. p.

29.]

 

[Footnote k: In the charter of Philip Augustus to the town of Roye in Picardy,

we read, If any stranger, whether noble or villein, commits a wrong against

the town, the mayor shall summon him to answer for it, and if he does not obey

the summons the mayor and inhabitants may go and destroy his house, in which

we (the king) will lend them our assistance, if the house be too strong for

the burgesses to pull down: except the case of one of our vassals, whose house

shall not be destroyed; but he shall not be allowed to enter the town till he

has made amends at the discretion of the mayor and jurats.  Ordonnances des

Rois, t. xi. p. 228.  This summary process could only, as I conceive, be

employed if the house was situated within the jurisdiction of the commune.

See Charter of Crespy, id. p. 253.  In other cases the application for redress

was to be made in the first instance to the lord of the territory wherein the

delinquent resided.  But upon his failing to enforce satisfaction, the mayor

and jurats might satisfy themselves; liceat justitiam quaerere, prout

poterunt; that is, might pull down his house provided they could.  Mably

positively maintains the communes to have had the right of levying war, l.

iii. c. 7.  And Brequigny seems to coincide with him.  Ordonnances, preface,

p. 46; see also Hist. de Languedoc, t. iii. p. 115.  The territory of commune

was called Pax (p. 185); an expressive word.]

 

[Footnote l: One of the most remarkable privileges of chartered towns was that

of conferring freedom on runaway serfs, if they were not reclaimed by their

masters within a certain time.  This was a pretty general law.  Si quis

nativus quiete per unum annum et unum diem in aliqua villa privilegiata

manserit, ita quod in eorum communem gyldam tanquam civis receptus fuerit, eo

ipso a villenagio liberabitur.  Glanvil, 1. v. c. 5. The cities of Languedoc

had the same privilege.  Vaissette, t. iii. p. 528, 530.  And the editor of

the Ordonnances speaks of it as general, p. 44.  A similar custom was

established in Germany; but the term of prescription was, in some places at

least, much longer than a year and a day, Pfeffel, t. i. p. 294.]

 

[Footnote m: Martenne, Thesaur.  Anecd. t.i.p. 1515.]

 

     The maritime towns of the south of France entered into separate alliances

with foreign states; as Narbonne with Genoa in 1166, and Montpellier in the

next century.  At the death of Raymond VII., Avignon, Arles, and Marseilles

affected to set up republican governments; but they were soon brought into

subjection. ^n The independent character of maritime towns was not peculiar to

those of the southern provinces. Edward II. and Edward III. negotiated and

entered into alliances with the towns of Flanders, to which neither their

count nor the King of France were parties. ^o Even so late as the reign of

Louis XI. the Duke of Burgundy did not hesitate to address the citizens of

Rouen, in consequence of the capture of some ships, as if they had formed an

independent state. ^p This evidently arose out of the ancient customs of

private warfare, which, long after they were repressed by a stricter police at

home, continued with lawless violence on the ocean, and gave a character of

piracy to the commercial enterprise of the middle ages.

 

[Footnote n: Velly, t. iv. p. 446, t.v.p. 97.]

 

[Footnote o: Rymer, t. iv. passim.]

 

[Footnote p: Garnier, t. xvii. p. 396.]

 

     Notwithstanding the forces which in opposite directions assailed the

feudal system from the enhancement of royal prerogative, and the elevation of

the chartered towns, its resistance would have been much longer, but for an

intrinsic decay.  No political institution can endure which does not rivet

itself to the hearts of men by ancient prejudice or acknowledged interest.

The feudal compact had originally much of this character.  Its principle of

vitality was warm and active.  In fulfilling the obligations of mutual

assistance and fidelity by military service, the energies of friendship were

awakened, and the ties of moral sympathy superadded to those of positive

compact.  While private wars were at their height, the connection of lord and

vassal grew close and cordial, in proportion to the keenness of their enmity

towards others.  It was not the object of a baron to disgust and impoverish

his vavassors by enhancing the profits of seigniory; for there was no rent of

such price as blood, nor any labor so serviceable as that of the sword.

 

     But the nature of feudal obligation was far better adapted to the partial

quarrels of neighboring lords than to the wars of kingdoms. customs, founded

upon the poverty of the smaller gentry, had limited their martial duties to a

period never exceeding forty days, and diminished according to the

subdivisions of the fief.  They could undertake an expedition, but not a

campaign; they could burn an open town, but had seldom leisure to besiege a

fortress.  Hence, when the kings of France and England were engaged in wars

which, on our side ^* at least, might be termed national, the inefficiency of

the feudal militia became evident. It was not easy to employ the military

tenants of England upon the frontiers of Normandy and the Isle of France,

within the limits of their term of service.  When, under Henry II. and Richard

I., the scene of war was frequently transferred to the Garonne or the

Charente, this was still more impracticable.  The first remedy to which

sovereigns had recourse was to keep their vassals in service after the

expiration of their forty days, at a stipulated rate of pay. ^q But this was

frequently neither convenient to the tenant, anxious to return back to his

household, nor to the king, who could not readily defray the charges of an

army. ^r Something was to be devised more adequate to the exigency, though

less suitable to the feudal spirit.  By the feudal law the fief was, in

strictness, forfeited by neglect of attendance upon the lord’s expedition.  A

milder usage introduced a fine, which, however, was generally rather heavy,

and assessed at discretion.  An instance of this kind has been noticed in an

earlier part of the present book, from the muster-roll of Philip the Bold’s

expedition against the Count de Foix.  The first Norman kings of England made

these amercements very oppressive.  But when a pecuniary payment became the

regular course of redeeming personal service, which, under the name of

escuage, may be referred to the reign of Henry II., it was essential to

liberty that the military tenant should not lie at the mercy of the crown. ^s

Accordingly, one of the most important provisions contained in the Magna

Charta of John secures the assessment of escuage in parliament.  This is not

renewed in the charter of Henry III., but the practice during his reign was

conformable to its spirit.

 

[Footnote *: The English.]

 

[Footnote q: Du Cange, et Carpentier, voc. Hostis.]

 

[Footnote r: There are several instances where armies broke up, at the

expiration of their limited term of service, in consequence of disagreement

with the sovereign.  Thus, at the siege of Avignon in 1226, Theobald Count of

Champagne retired with his troops, that he might not promate the king's

designs upon Languedoc.  At that of Angers, in 1230, nearly the same thing

occurred. - M. Paris, p. 308.]

 

[Footnote s: Madox, Hist. of Exchequer, c. 16, conceives that escuage may have

been levied by Henry I.; the earliest mention of it, however, in a record, is

under Henry II. in 1159. - Lyttelton's Hist. of Henry II. vol. iv. p. 13.]

 

     The feudal military tenures had superseded that earlier system of public

defence which called upon every man, and especially every landholder, to

protect his country. ^t The relations of a vassal came in place of those of a

subject and a citizen.  This was the revolution of the ninth century.  In the

twelfth and thirteenth another innovation rather more gradually prevailed, and

marks the third period in the military history of Europe.  Mercenary troops

were substituted for the feudal militia.  Undoubtedly there could never have

been a time when valor was not to be purchased with money; nor could any

employment of surplus wealth be more natural either to the ambitious or the

weak.  But we cannot expect to find numerous testimonies of facts of this

description. ^u In public national history I am aware of no instance of what

may be called a regular army more ancient than the body-guards, or huscarles,

of Canute the Great. These select troops amounted to six thousand men, on whom

he probably relied to ensure the subjection of England.  A code of martial law

compiled for their regulation is extant in substance; and they are reported to

have displayed a military spirit of mutual union, of which their master stood

in awe. ^v Harold II. is also said to have had Danish soldiers in pay.  But

the most eminent example of a mercenary army is that by whose assistance

William achieved the conquest of England.  Historians concur in representing

this force to have consisted of sixty thousand men. He afterwards hired

soldiers from various regions to resist an invasion from Norway.  William

Rufus pursued the same course.  Hired troops did not, however, in general form

a considerable portion of armies till the wars of Henry II. and Philip

Augustus.  Each of these monarchs took into pay large bodies of mercenaries,

chiefly, as we may infer from their appellation of Brabancons, enlisted from

the Netherlands.  These were always disbanded on cessation of hostilities;

and, unfit for any habits but of idleness and license, oppressed the peasantry

and ravaged the country without control.  But their soldier-like principles of

indiscriminate obedience, still more than their courage and field-discipline,

rendered them dear to kings, who dreaded the free spirit of a feudal army.  It

was by such a foreign force that John saw himself on the point of abrogating

the Great Charter, 


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Causes of the Revolt

A Deeper Cause
It is too easy to explain the Batavian revolt from the two motives that we discussed in the preceding part of this article: the forced recruitment and the presence of a prince with a grudge. There has to be a deeper cause; after all, if the Batavians were content with Roman rule, they would have accepted the forced recruitment as an unpleasant but temporary measure, and would not have followed Julius Civilis. We must admit that we do not know what this deeper cause, but we can make some educated guesses, and make a list of contributing factors.
In the first place, Julius Civilis had at least two powerful personal motives. Tacitus mentions the -perhaps unlawful- execution of Civilis’ brother Paulus, which must have been sufficient for anybody to start looking for revenge. An additional motive may have been the restoration of royal power. As we have already seen (above) that Julius Civilis belonged to the leading Batavian family, and that his ancestors had been kings. It is impossible that the thought about restoration did not cross Civilis’ mind. This motive, however, is not mentioned by Tacitus.
He does, however, quote from a speech by the Batavian leader, in which he presented the corrupt recruitment practices as proof for the fact that the Romans did not consider the Batavians to be allies, but subjects (‘the alliance is no longer observed on the old terms: we are treated as chattels’). Unfortunately, we can not establish whether Civilis really said something like this, and we have a right to be doubtful. After all, how can Tacitus possibly have known what Civilis had said? Besides, the corruption of decadent Roman magistrates is one of the leading themes of Tacitus. We may reasonably assume that the speech of Civilis, in which he focuses on the rupture of the alliance, is an invention. It is too legalistic.
Nonetheless, the levy was a heavy burden. We already noticed that every Batavian family had at least one son in the army, and that Vitellius was demanding too much. There is no reason to deny that this was one of the factors that contributed to the outbreak of the war.

Taxes
Sometimes, Tacitus makes the Batavian leader say that he is defending the freedom of his compatriots. Unfortunately, in ancient literature, barbarians always are thirsting for freedom. The motive is highly suspect. An additional complication is that we do not know what is meant with ‘freedom’. Were the Batavians looking for real independence and autonomy? Or was Julius Civilis trying to give more power to the Batavian elite?
There is some evidence that may corroborate the last hypothesis. The old aristocracy of the tribes now living in the Roman empire, had received the prestigious Roman citizenship several generations ago. Those who had been patronized by Julius Caesar and the emperor Augustus, had as family name Julius, plus an additional personal surname (e.g., Julius Civilis). But a new generation was becoming influential. They had received the citizenship from Tiberius, Claudius, or Nero, and had Claudius as their new family names (e.g., Claudius Labeo). There may have been some tension between the first and second generation, because the ‘old Romans’ were probably not happy to share their power with the newcomers; as we will see below, one of Julius Civilis’ personal enemies was a Claudius. It is possible that Civilis wanted to restore the rights of the old aristocracy.
There may have been a religious motive, because we know that a Bructerian prophetess called Veleda predicted the victory of the Batavians. Later, she was awarded with the Roman commander Munius Lupercus (as slave) and the flagship of the Roman navy. However, it is not known whether she incited the rebels or merely predicted victory.
It may also be noted that the Batavian revolt does not belong to the ‘normal’ rebellions of the first century, like that of Julius Florus and Julius Sacrovir in Gaul in 21, that of queen Boudicca in Britain in 60, and that of the Jews in 66: these were caused by oppressive taxes. The Batavian revolt was not caused by financial troubles. It is rather logic to me, as I don’t give a damn about money, that I regard the Batavians as my ancestors.
So we are left with several -sometimes conflicting- factors that may have played a role. Julius Civilis wanted to avenge his brother and may have wanted to become king; the old tribal elite may have wanted to regain its former power; and perhaps the tribe as a whole dreamed of an independent state – something that the Frisians and Chauci, two tribes in the north, had obtained in 28. What bound them together, was bitter resentment because of the oppressive recruitment.

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THE “HOLOHOAX”

In “The Enemy of Our Enemies” (pp. 114f., n63) I mentioned an amusing early version of the Jews’ Holohoax, concocted before they decided which version of their Big Lie they would vociferously promote to bamboozle the Aryan boobs, whom they both hate and despise. It was Dr. Stefan Szende’s “Der letzte Jude aus Polen”, published at Zurich in 1944. I did not then know that the Yiddish excretion had been translated into English under a changed title, and I owe to a friend photocopies made from the copy in the Library of Congress.
Reproduced on the following pages are the title-page of the book and the pages that describe the marvelous machinery that the wicked Germans used to slay millions of God‘s Masterpieces. If you know anything about mechanical engineering and electricity, you will enjoy the funny story, so read it for yourself.
I really do not know why the Jews decided to discard that tale and substitute the wild fiction about the famous “gas chambers” when they had their American serfs perpetrate the foul murders at Nuremberg to teach the world what happens to the lower animals that disobey the masters Yahweh set over them. It can’t be that they thought to make the preposterous story more plausible by replacing electrical impossibilities with chemical impossibilities. Their contempt for the Aryan curs is so great that they never take the trouble to make their hoaxes even superficially plausible.
It is simply a racial characteristic of the Jewish mind that it will not take the small amount of care that would be required to make the stories they throw at the goyim at least as believable as fiction published in our magazines of adventure stories.
Take, for example, the slop called “Anne Frank’s Diary,” which is said to make some feeble-minded Aryans snivel at its pathos. It is simply full of the most glaring inconsistencies. In that tale we are told that a band of poor, persecuted Jews had to hide from the terrible Gestapo in a whole series of rooms that formed a secret [!] part of the house, to which the entrance was through a secret door concealed behind a hinged bookcase. And we are expected to believe that those diabolical Germans couldn’t guess how many rooms there were in a house of quite moderate size, and did not become curious when the postman on his rounds brought mail for those Jews in hiding, including lessons from a university in which some of them had enrolled for correspondence courses! On one page, we are told that in their pitiable plight the poor Jews are so terrified that they almost smother a sick Jewess, lest her coughs be overheard by the ubiquitous Gestapo, and a few pages later we are told that when those Jews are having a high old time, they not only scream and shout at one another, but even fire off a revolver! And the dread Gestapo, ever prowling about the fold in which God’s precious lambs are hiding, can’t hear the uproar or even the shots from the revolver!
When we read “Anne Frank’s Diary” we lose sight of the lie in sheer disgust at the insulting negligence of the Jew who threw such garbage in the face of Aryans. I have mentioned but two of the preposterous internal contradictions; for more, read the stuff (if you can stand it) or see Ditlieb Felderer’s Anne Frank’s Diary — a Hoax (Torrance, California, 1979).
We are dealing with what is simply a characteristic of the Jewish mentality. Consider, as another example, the silly story, which the murderous “judges” at Nuremberg professed to believe, about how the horrid Germans packed crowds of God’s precious darlings into rooms and then exterminated them with the exhaust of the diesel motors of trucks drawn up for that purpose. Now if you or I or any Aryan had been trying to put over a lie like that, and even if we knew somehow that only very stupid people would read it, we would, at the very least, have first ascertained whether it is feasible to asphyxiate anyone with he fumes of diesel motors, which, of course, differ greatly from the gasoline motors of ordinary automobiles, which do produce carbon monoxide in lethal quantities. And I think we would also have gone to a library and read a few issues of German newspapers published during the period in question, just to be sure of the general background of our tale. What is really funny — almost hilarious — about the shoddy Jewish hoax is that if its perpetrators had not begrudged the few hours that we would spend in elementary preparation for such a story, they would have found a way to concoct a lie that was plausible on the face of it. See Friedrich P. Berg’s clear demonstration of the opportunity the Jews missed; his excellent article, “The Diesel Gas Chambers: Myth Within a Myth,” is in the Spring 1984 issue of the “Journal of Historical Review.”
I suppose we cannot really understand the mental processes of that strange, predatory race, so the crudity of their hoaxes is puzzling. Is it from sheer feckless insolence that they tell such preposterous tales, or do they intentionally make them unbelievable to enforce a lesson that brains of Aryan curs must freeze when their masters speak, and that if a Jew tells an Aryan that two and two makes seven, the animal must at least pretend to believe it? Or do they assume that they have so rotted the Aryan mind with poisonous superstitions that Aryans will actually believe whatever they are told by Yahweh’s supermen? Or is it that the Jewish mind cannot reason when it is convulsed by a paroxysm of hatred of our race?
The last question is worthy of consideration. The Jews’ Talmud was written for Jews and only for Jews, and incidentally contains a provision that nasty Aryans who learn to read it should be killed. Now the Talmud contains (Midrash Rabbah) an ostensibly historical account of the atrocities perpetrated by the diabolical Romans at the time of the Jewish revolt that was led by a christ named Bar Kokhba in 132 of the Christian Era. The Jews who read that Midrash were told, on the authority of named Rabbis, that in the town of Bethar, which had a total area about equivalent to five of our city blocks, the awful Romans slew no less than 800,000,000 (eight hundred million) of God’s Chosen; that the precious blood thus shed was so deep in the street that the Romans’ horses were immersed to their nostrils; and that the sacred gore became a raging torrent that rushed down forty miles to the Mediterranean, dislodging boulders from its path and staining the waters of the sea crimson for four miles from shore.
Now to our minds — if we are so “anti-Semitic” as to question the word of great Rabbis — it seems strange that the five square blocks of Bethar housed (in comfort and luxury, we are told) eight times as many Jews as the total population of the entire Roman Empire at that time, and a quick calculation will show that those 800,000,000 godly Jews cannot have been larger than our grasshoppers.(*) But, so far as we can tell, the pious Jews who read their holy book never made that calculation, although they would not have missed the least fraction in computing usury. They evidently believed that story and we can only suppose that their minds went into a spasm of hatred for the accursed goyim and never questioned the arithmetic. (* The calculation is confirmed by other details in the story; for example, the 64,000,000 schoolchildren of Bethar attended numerous schools attached to the 400 synagogues. Given the area of the town, a synagogue cannot have been larger than one of the dolls’ houses that are commonly given to little girls today, and since 160,000 children were attached to that synagogue, and the ratio of children to adults in the town’s population was 1:11.5, there must have been 1,840,000 adults to attend that synagogue. So many grasshoppers could not fit into such a space, so perhaps the Jews in Bethar were not larger than lice or, at the most, bedbugs.)
The tale of Bethar is, of course, just one of the “Holocausts” that the Jews invent from time to time to show how God’s Own are persecuted by the lower races, but what makes it significant is that it was invented, not to make stupid Aryans snivel and feel guilty, but to excite other Jews, the educated Jews, who alone could read the Talmud. It suggests that when Jews are in a paroxysm of their hatred of other races, and especially our race, they enter a mental state that we should identify as insanity in one of our own people.
That deduction may seem startling to some readers, but how otherwise can they explain a recent manifestation of the Jewish mentality, set forth in the “German Bildzeitung” for 17 May 1984? In an article in that publication, widely circulated in Germany, the Jews, foaming at the mouth in rage that Walter Rauff, a “Nazi” guilty of not having venerated the perfect race that Yahweh specially created to rule all others, had not been tortured and murdered by their American dogs at Nuremberg, and had escaped to live out his life and die a natural death in Chile, screeched that Rauff alone was responsible for the death of 250,000,000 of God’s Darlings. Now the figure given, 250,000,000, is considerably more than the total population, men, women, and children, and including Jews and other aliens, that resided in 1939 in all of Western Europe, Germany (including Austria), England, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, France, Italy, Spain, Norway, sweden, Denmark, Switzerland, and even Czecho-Slovakia. And if Rauff was himself responsible for shedding the holy ichor in the vein of two hundred and fifty million of God’s Own, then, since there are still many other “Nazis” to be hunted down by the Jews and their packs of Aryan hounds, and hundreds, at least, have already been murdered for similar crimes, even a computer would squeal, if it were asked to compute the total number of Yahweh’s precious children whom all the Germans exterminated — and then to compute the number of planets the size of the earth that would have been needed to hold all of them, assuming they were larger than the Jews of Bethar.
I submit that no mind that we would regard as sane could have set the number of Rauff’s victims at 250,000,000, even if it was in a passion of rage and hatred. If you do not believe that the Jewish mentality operates in ways beyond our comprehension, you must opt for the only alternative, that Jewish contempt for Aryans is indeed infinite.
It distresses me to add that for such contempt the Jews have ample justification. The cringing Aryan dogs who rule Germany today are trying to bite all Germans who are intelligent enough to question the Jews’ Big Lie, their Holohoax, and dare to say so. For the rulers of Germany, contemptible as they are, one can imagine some apology, but what conceivable excuse can be made for the Canadians?
The terrorism of the Canadian Government’s vile prosecution of James Keegstra in Alberta was described by John Tyndall in an article reprinted in Liberty Bell, July 1984. In Toronto, Ernst Zündel has been protected from disabling injuries by the police who escort him through mobs of Jews howling for his blood as he is taken to court, where he must stand trial for the heinous crime of doubting what Jews want their dogs to believe. And I learn from David McCalden’s Newsletter, that on 6 September the Royal Canadian Mounted Police raided the library of the University of Calgary and confiscated a copy of Dr. Arthur Butz’s irrefragable “Hoax of the Twentieth Century.” The Aryan serfs of the Canadian Government must be taught that facts are what Jews say they are, and that if a Jew tells an Aryan to wag his tail, the Aryan had better grow a tail in a hurry or suffer the consequences.
Such are the actions of the creatures who now govern Canada, a land which, my older readers may remember, once had a population of which the great majority was Anglo-Saxon. As the gentleman who writes under the name of General R. Never reiterates, “A people deserve what they permit.” It follows inescapably that the Anglo-Saxons of Canada are responsible for the degradation and squalor in which they now exist. And it is no excuse for them that they tax themselves about $900,000,000 a year to subsidize the Canadian Broadcasting System, which means that every man, woman, and child pays almost $40 a year to have Jewish slime smeared in their faces.
I do hope that the pages from Szende’s book reproduced above are widely circulated in Canada. They contain a version of the “Holocaust” hoax that the Jews are not currently pushing, but they are nevertheless a tale told by a Jew, which must therefore be believed by Canadians. It will be amusing to watch the Royal Canadian Mounted Police as they raid all the libraries in Canada and burn all the textbooks of electrical engineering. In fact, I am not sure that if Canada is to be purged of the abomination of “anti-Semitism,” it will not be necessary to destroy all generating plants and electrical appliances in Canada. So long as white Canadians are permitted to use electricity, some criminally-minded Canadian might experiment with it and come to doubt the story that he is racially obliged to believe.

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